`Well, I was that man. I didn't mean it; but some words of mine, I'm afraid, gave Mr. Prout the impression-- '
Number Five laughed aloud.
`You see it's just the same thing with you, Padre,' said M`Turk. `He is quick to get an impression, ain't he? But you mustn't think we don't love him,' cause we do. There isn't an ounce of vice about him.'
A double knock fell on the door.
`The Head to see Number Five study in his study at once,' said the voice of Foxy, the school sergeant.
`Whew!' said the Reverend John. `It seems to me that there is a great deal of trouble coming for some people.'
`My word! Mr. Prout's gone and told the Head,' said Stalky. `He's a moral double-ender. Not fair, luggin' the Head into a house-row.'
`I should recommend a copy-book on a--h'm --safe and certain part,' said the Reverend John disinterestedly.
`Huh! He licks across the shoulders, an' it would slam like a beastly barn-door,' said Beetle. `Good-night, Padre. We're in for it.'
Once more they stood in the presence of the Head--Belial, Mammon, and Lucifer. But they had to deal with a man more subtle than them all. Mr. Prout had talked to him, heavily and sadly, for half an hour; and the Head had seen all that was hidden from the house-master.
`You've been bothering Mr. Prout,' he said pensively. `House-masters aren't here to be bothered by boys more than is necessary. I don't like being bothered by these things. You are bothering me. That is a very serious offence. You see it?'
`Yes, sir.'
`Well, now, I purpose to bother you, on personal and private grounds, because you have broken into my time. You are much too big to lick, so I suppose I shall have to mark my displeasure in some other way. Say, a thousand lines apiece, a week's gating, and a few things of that kind. Much too big to lick, aren't you?'
`Oh no, sir,' said Stalky cheerfully; for a week's gating in the summer term is serious.
`Ve-ry good. Then we will do what we can. I wish you wouldn't bother me.'
It was a fair, sustained, equable stroke, with a little draw to it, but what they felt most was his unfairness in stopping to talk between executions. Thus:
`Among the--lower classes this would lay me open to a charge of--assault. You should be more grateful for your--privileges than you are. There is a limit--one finds it by experience, Beetle--beyond which it is never safe to pursue private vendettas, because--don't move--sooner or later one comes--into collision with the--higher authority, who has studied the animal. Et ego--M`Turk, please--in Arcadia vixi. There's a certain flagrant injustice about this that ought to appeal to--your temperament. And that's all! You will tell your house-master that you have been formally caned by me.'
`My word!' said M`Turk, wriggling his shoulder-blades all down the corridor. `That was business! The Prooshian Bates has an infernal straight eye.'
`Wasn't it wily of me to ask for the lickin,'' said Stalky, `instead of those impots?'