`Padre Sahib,' said M`Turk, `it isn't the least good explainin' to Mr. Prout. If he hasn't one impression, he's bound to have another.'
`He'd do it with the best o' motives. He's in loco parentis,' purred Stalky.
`You young demons!' the Reverend John replied. `And am I to understand that the--the usury business was another of your house-master's impressions?'
`Well--we helped a little in that,' said Stalky.
`I did owe Beetle two and fourpence--at least, Beetle says I did, but I never intended to pay him. Then we started a bit of an argument on the stairs, and--and Mr. Prout dropped into it accidental. That was how it was, Padre. He paid me cash down like a giddy Dook (stopped it out of my pocket-money just the same), and Beetle gave him my note-of-hand all correct. I don't know what happened after that.'
`I was too truthful,' said Beetle. `I always am. You see, he was under an impression, Padre, and I suppose I ought to have corrected that impression; but of course I couldn't be quite certain that his house wasn't given over to money-lendin', could I? I thought the house-prefects might more about it than I did. They ought to. They're giddy palladiums of public schools.'
`They did, too--by the time they'd finished,' said M`Turk. `As nice a pair of conscientious, well-meanin', upright, pure-souled boys as you'd ever want to meet, Padre. They turned the house upside down-- Harrison and Craye--with the best motives in the world.'
`They said so.
They said it very loud and clear,
They went and shouted in our ear,'
said Stalky.
`My own private impression is that all three of you will infallibly be hanged,' said the Reverend John.
`Why, we didn't do anything,' replied M`Turk. `It was all Mr. Prout. Did you ever read a book about Japanese wrestlers? My uncle--he's in the Navy--gave me a beauty once.'
`Don't try to change the subject, Turkey.'
`I'm not, sir. I'm givin' an illustration--same as a sermon. These wrestler-chaps have got some sort of trick that lets the other chap do all the work. Then they give a little wriggle, and he upsets himself. It's called shibbuwichee or tokonoma, or somethin'. Mr. Prout's a shibbuwicher. It isn't our fault.'
`Did you suppose we went round corruptin' the minds of the fags?' said Beetle. `They haven't any, to begin with; and if they had, they're corrupted long ago. I've been a fag, Padre.'
`Well, I fancied I knew the normal range of your iniquities; but if you take so much trouble to pile up circumstantial evidence against yourselves, you can't blame any one if--'
`We don't blame any one, Padre. We haven't said a word against Mr. Prout, have we?' Stalky looked at the others. `We love him. He hasn't a notion how we love him.'
`H'm! You dissemble your love very well. Have you ever thought who got you turned out of your study, in the first place?'
`It was Mr. Prout turned us out,' said Stalky, with significance.