"Why he'd faint at the very idea." "Probably take him off to his study and have a prayer-meeting with Fairbairn and a few more of that lot upon the top of him," said Gilks, a schoolhouse monitor, and not a nice-looking fellow.
"I guess I'd sooner get a hiding from old Bloomfield than that," laughed Wibberly.
"I hope," said Game, "snivelling's not going to be the order of the day.
I can't stand it." "I don't think you've any right to call Riddell a sniveller," said Porter.

"He may be a muff at sports, but I don't fancy he's a sneak.
And I don't see that it's against him, either, if he does go in for being what he professes to be." "Hear! hear!--quite a sermon from Porter," cried Wibberly.
"Porter's right," said Bloomfield.

"No one says it was against him.
All I say is that I don't expect the fellows will mind him as much as they would a fellow who--well, who's better known, you know." "Rather," said Game, "I know it would seem precious rum being a monitor under him." "Well," said Bloomfield, "I suppose it will be settled soon.

Meanwhile, Game, what do you say to another grind in the tub?
You didn't half work this morning, you beggar." Game groaned resignedly, and said "All right;" and hue and cry was forthwith made for Master Parson's services at the helm.
But Master Parson, as it happened, was not to be found.

He was neither in the school nor in his house, and a search through the grounds failed to unearth him.