Gussie earnestly. "It's the only life
... Well, here's your book. Looks rather bilge to me from a glance at
the title page, but, such as it is, here you are."

P.K. Purvis squeaked off amidst sporadic applause, but one could not fail
to note that the sporadic was followed by a rather strained silence. It
was evident that Gussie was striking something of a new note in Market
Snodsbury scholastic circles. Looks were exchanged between parent and
parent. The bearded bloke had the air of one who has drained the bitter
cup. As for Aunt Dahlia, her demeanour now told only too clearly that her
last doubts had been resolved and her verdict was in. I saw her whisper
to the Bassett, who sat on her right, and the Bassett nodded sadly and
looked like a fairy about to shed a tear and add another star to the
Milky Way.

Gussie, after the departure of P.K. Purvis, had fallen into a sort of
daydream and was standing with his mouth open and his hands in his
pockets. Becoming abruptly aware that a fat kid in knickerbockers was at
his elbow, he started violently.

"Hullo!" he said, visibly shaken. "Who are you?"

"This," said the bearded bloke, "is R.V. Smethurst."

"What's he doing here?" asked Gussie suspiciously.

"You are presenting him with the drawing prize, Mr. Fink-Nottle."

This apparently struck Gussie as a reasonable explanation. His face
cleared.

"That's right, too," he said.... "Well, here it is, cocky. You off?" he
said, as the kid prepared to withdraw.

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Wait, R.V. Smethurst. Not so fast. Before you go, there is a question I
wish to ask you."

But the beard bloke's aim now seemed to be to rush the ceremonies a bit.
He hustled R.V. Smethurst off stage rather like a chucker-out in a pub
regretfully ejecting an old and respected customer, and starting paging
G.G. Simmons. A moment later the latter was up and coming, and conceive
my emotion when it was announced that the subject on which he had clicked
was Scripture knowledge. One of us, I mean to say.

G.G. Simmons was an unpleasant, perky-looking stripling, mostly front
teeth and spectacles, but I gave him a big hand. We Scripture-knowledge
sharks stick together.

Gussie, I was sorry to see, didn't like him. There was in his manner, as
he regarded G.G. Simmons, none of the chumminess which had marked it
during his interview with P.K. Purvis or, in a somewhat lesser degree,
with R.V. Smethurst. He was cold and distant.

"Well, G.G. Simmons."