he lockers and sing while he buzzed ink-pots at us?" said Stalky.
"They _were_ bullies if you like!"

"But there isn't any of it now," said McTurk soothingly.

"That's where you make a mistake. We're all inclined to say that
everything is all right as long we aren't ourselves hurt. I sometimes
wonder if it is extinct--bullying."

"Fags bully each other horrid; but the upper forms are supposed to be
swottin' for exams. They've got something else to think about," said
Beetle.

"Why? What do you think?" Stalky was watching the chaplain's face.

"I have my doubts." Then, explosively, "On my word, for three moderately
intelligent boys you aren't very observant. I suppose you were too busy
making things warm for your house-master to see what lay under your
noses when you were in the form-rooms last week?"

"What, sir? I--I swear we didn't see anything," said Beetle.

"Then I'd advise you to look. When a little chap is whimpering in a
corner and wears his clothes like rags, and never does any work, and
is notoriously the dirtiest little 'corridor-caution' in the Coll.,
something's wrong somewhere."

"That's Clewer," said McTurk under his breath.

"Yes, Clewer. He comes to me for his French. It's his first term, and
he's almost as complete a wreck as you were, Beetle. He's not naturally
clever, but he has been hammered till he's nearly an idiot."

"Oh, no. They sham silly to get off more tickings," said Beetle. "_I_
know that."

"I've never actually seen him knocked about," said the Reverend John.

"The genuine article don't do that in public," said Beetle. "Fairburn
never touched me when any one was looking on."

"You needn't swagger about it, Beetle," said McTurk. "We all caught it
in our time."

"But I got it worse than any one," said Beetle. "If you want an
authority on bullyin', Padre, come to me. Corkscrews--brush-drill
keys--head-knucklin'--arm-twistin'--rockin'--Ag Ags--and all the rest
of it."

"Yes. I do want you as an authority, or rather I want your authority to
stop it--all of you."

"What about Abana and Pharpar, Padre--Harrison and Craye? They are
Mr. Prout's pets," said McTurk a little bitterly. "We aren't even
sub-prefects."

"I've considered that, but on the other hand, since most bullying is
mere thoughtlessness--"

"Not one little bit of it, Padre," said McTurk. "Bullies like bullyin'.
They mean it. They think it up in lesson and practise it in the
quarters."

"Never mind. If the th