They were to him mere isolated facts, signifying present disorder.
"John Morison, go to your seat," he cried.
John went.
"Robert Rennie, go to your seat." Robert went.

And this continued till, six having been thus passed by, and a seventh appearing three forms from his own, the master, who seldom stood it so long, could stand it no longer.

The _tag_ was thrown, and a _licking_ followed, making matters a little better from the master's point of view.
Now I will try to give, from the scholars' side, a peep of what passed.
As soon as he was fairly seated, Alec said in a low voice across the double desk to one of the boys opposite, calling him by his nickname, "I say, Divot, do ye ken Juno ?" "Maybe no!" answered Divot.

"But gin I dinna, my left leg dis." "I thocht ye kent the shape o' her teeth, man.

Jist gie Scrumpie there a dig i' the ribs." "What are ye efter, Divot?
I'll gie ye a cloot o' the lug," growled Scrumpie.
"Hoot man! The General wants ye." _The General_ was Alec's nickname.
"What is't, General ?" "Do ye ken Juno ?" "Hang the bitch! I ken her ower weel.