entire course of his school career. Brown would come in to borrow a
knife, would sweep the room with one comprehensive glance, and depart,
to be followed at brief intervals by Smith, Robinson, and Jones, who
came respectively to learn the right time, to borrow a book, and to ask
him if he had seen a pencil anywhere. Towards the end of the day, Mill
would seem to have wearied somewhat of the proceedings, as was proved
when Master Thomas Renford, aged fourteen (who fagged for Milton, the
head of the house), burst in on the thin pretence that he had mistaken
the study for that of his rightful master, and gave vent to a prolonged
whistle of surprise and satisfaction at the sight of the ruins. On
that occasion, the incensed owner of the dismantled study, taking a
mean advantage of the fact that he was a prefect, and so entitled to
wield the rod, produced a handy swagger-stick from an adjacent corner,
and, inviting Master Renford to bend over, gave him six of the best to
remember him by. Which ceremony being concluded, he kicked him out into
the passage, and Renford went down to the junior day-room to tell his
friend Harvey about it.

"Gave me six, the cad," said he, "just because I had a look at his
beastly study. Why shouldn't I look at his study if I like? I've a
jolly good mind to go up and have another squint."

Harvey warmly approved the scheme.

"No, I don't think I will," said Renford with a yawn. "It's such a fag
going upstairs."

"Yes, isn't it?" said Harvey.

"And he's such a beast, too."