The chalk dropped from O'Gree's fingers, but otherwise his attitude
remained unaltered; struck motionless with horror, he stood pointing
to the drawing on the board, his face pale, his eyes fascinated by
those of Mrs. Tootle. The latter went on in a high note.

"Well, sir, as soon as you have had enough of your insulting
buffoonery, perhaps you will have the goodness to attend to me, and
to your duty! What do you mean by allowing the dormitories to get
into this state of uproar? There's been a pillow-fight going on for
the last half-hour, and you pay no sort of attention; the very house
is shaking?"

"I protest I had not heard a sound, ma'am, or I should have--"

"Perhaps you hear nothing now, sir,--and the doctor suffering from
one of his very worst headaches, utterly unable to rest even if the
house were perfectly quiet!"

O'Gree darted to the door, past Mrs. Tootle, and was lost to sight.
There was indeed a desperate uproar in the higher regions of the
house. In a moment the noise increased considerably. O'Gree had
rushed up without a light, and was battling desperately in the
darkness with a score of pillow-fighters, roaring out threats the
while at the top of his voice. Mrs. Tootle retired from the masters'
room with much affectation of dignity, leaving the door open behind
her.

Waymark slammed it to, and turned with a laugh to the poor Swiss.

"In low spirits to-night, I'm afraid, Mr. Egger?"