's the sense of it? What's the fun of it?" said McTurk.

"It will go on to the end of the term, though," Beetle wagged his head
sorrowfully. He had worn many jests threadbare on his own account.

In a few days it became an established legend of the school that Prout's
house did not wash and were therefore noisome. Mr. King was pleased to
smile succulently in form when one of his boys drew aside from Beetle
with certain gestures.

"There seems to be some disability attaching to you, my Beetle, or else
why should Burton major withdraw, so to speak, the hem of his garments?
I confess I am still in the dark. Will some one be good enough to
enlighten me?"

Naturally, he was enlightened by half the form.

"Extraordinary! Most extraordinary! However, each house has its
traditions, with which I would not for the world interfere.
_We_ have a prejudice in favor of washing. Go on, Beetle--from
'_jugurtha tamen_'--and, if you can, avoid the more flagrant forms of
guessing."

Prout's house was furious because Macrea's and Hartopp's houses joined
King's to insult them. They called a house-meeting after dinner--an
excited and angry meeting of all save the prefects, whose dignity,
though they sympathized, did not allow them to attend. They read
ungrammatical resolutions, and made speeches beginning, "Gentlemen, we
have met on this occasion," and ending with, "It's a beastly shame,"
precisely as houses have done since time and schools began.

Number Five study attended, with its usual air of bland patronage. At
last McTurk, of the lanthorn jaws, delivered himself:

"You jabber and jaw and burble, and that's about all you can do. What's
the good of it? King's house'll only gloat because they've drawn
you, and King will gloat, too. Besides, that resolution of Orrin's is
chock-full of bad grammar, and King'll gloat over that."

"I thought you an' Beetle would put it right, an'--an' we'd post it in
the corridor," said the composer meekly.

"_Par si je le connai_. I'm not goin' to meddle with the biznai," said
Beetle. "It's a gloat for King's house. Turkey's quite right."

"Well, won't Stalky, then?"

But Stalky puffed out his cheeks and squinted down his nose in the style
of Panurge, and all he said was, "Oh, you abject burblers!"

"You're three beastly scabs!" was the instant retort of the democracy,
and they went out amid execrations.

"This is piffling," said McTurk. "Let's get our sallies, and go and
shoot bunnies."