Get out of my bed." Heathcote promptly obeyed.
"I didn't know--I was told it was where I was to sleep," he said.
"Shut up, and don't tell lies," said the senior, taking off his slipper and passing his hand down the sole of it.
"Really I didn't do it on purpose," pleaded Heathcote.

"I was told to do it." The case was evidently not one for argument.

As Heathcote turned round, the silence of the night hour was broken for some moments by the echoes of that slipper-sole.
It was no use objecting--still less resisting.

So Heathcote bore it like a man, and occupied his leisure moments during the ceremony in chalking up a long score against his friend the junior.
"Now, make my bed," said the executioner when the transaction was complete.
The boy obeyed in silence--wonderfully warm despite the lightness of his attire.

His comfort would have been complete had that junior only been there to help him.