It might be mistaken for telling tales.

How would it do to-- Here entered Robert, the school porter, with a letter addressed "Wheatfield minor, Mr Forder's," in a scholarly hand.
"Wheatfield minor," snarled Percy; "that's not me, Bob.

What do you take me for! Here, take it over to Wakefield's, and look about for the dirtiest, ugliest, beastliest kid you can see.

That's Wheatfield minor." "You'll be sore to know him by his likeness to Percy," added Cash, by way of encouragement.
"But Wakefield's ain't Forder's," observed the sage Robert.

"Look what the envelope says." True; it must be meant for Percy after all.
"You go and tell him it's like his howling cheek to call me minor, whoever it is; and when I catch him I'll welt him.