They'd run in every race for the last two years, and never won so much as a shilling penknife yet.

More than that; just because he had walked across the quadrangle to see Telson home after supper last night (Telson belonged to the SchoolHouse) he had been caught by a monitor and given eight French verbs to write out for being out-of- doors, after lock-up.

What harm, Parson would like to know, was there in seeing a friend across the quad?
Coates, the monitor, probably had no friend--he didn't deserve to have one--or he wouldn't have been down on Parson for a thing like that.
Then, further than that, he (Parson) had not looked at his Caesar, and Warton had promised to report him to the doctor next time he showed up without preparation.

Bother Warton! bother the doctor! bother Caesar! what did they all want to conspire together for against a wretched junior's peace?
He'd have to cram up the Caesar from Telson's crib somehow, only the nuisance was Bloomfield had fixed on this particular morning for a turn on the river with Game, and Parson would of course have to steer for them.

Just his luck again! He didn't mind steering for Bloomfield, of course, and if he must fag he'd as soon fag for him as anybody, especially now that he would be captain of the eleven and of the boats; but how, Parson wanted to know, was he to do his Caesar and his French verbs, and steer Bloomfield and Game up the river at one and the same time?
He couldn't take the books in the boat.
Well, he supposed he'd have to get reported; and probably "Paddy" would give it him on the hands.