We deliberately sat on the fence of the prohibited playing fields, in the hope that Mr Jarman or some one would see us.

Trimble even went to the length of crossing it at one corner.
What made it more trying was the conduct of the day boys, who, with an acuteness which did them credit, seemed to have discovered our delicate situation, and resolved to make the most of it.
They paraded the field about twenty yards from our fence, jeering at us openly, and daring us to set foot on the turf.
"Look at them," said one, "hung up like a lot of washing on the palings.
We'll make them cut.

Let's have a scientific meeting.

That'll clear them out." Whereupon the Urbans ranged themselves on the grass under our noses, and called upon Mr Flitwick to address them on the "Treatment of Lunatics." This was too much.

We were few in number, and the palings were hard and uncomfortable.