As he was unaware of the cause of the excitement around him, this sudden assault from below took him aback, and he started up from his chair in something as near a panic as a Fellsgarth prefect could be capable of.

Naturally his parasite followed him.
To Ranger's credit, he took in the situation rapidly, and did not abuse his opportunities.
"What's this ?" he demanded, lifting up Fisher minor, with his hair all on end and the pocket-comb still in his hand, by the coat-collar.

"Who does this belong to ?" No one in particular owned the object in question.
"What are you ?" asked the prefect.
"I'm Fisher minor; I got under the table, somehow." "So I should suppose.

Afraid of the draughts, I suppose." "It was Wally and his brother put me there.

I didn't mean--" "Oh--Wally, was it?
Here, young Wheatfield, you shouldn't leave your property about like this.