ully sorry about it--a woman came up and kissed me. I swear I
didn't kiss her."

There was a pause, filled by Stalky's long, liquid whistle of contempt,
amazement, and derision.

"On my honor," gulped the persecuted one. "Oh, do stop him jawing."

"Very good," McTurk interjected. "We are compelled, of course, to accept
your statement."

"Confound it!" roared Naughten. "You aren't head-prefect here, McTurk."

"Oh, well," returned the Irishman, "you know Tulke better than we do. I
am only speaking for ourselves. _We_ accept Tulke's word. But all I can
say is that if I'd been collared in a similarly disgustin' situation,
and had offered the same explanation Tulke has, I--I wonder what you'd
have said. However, it seems on Tulke's word of honor--"

"And Tulkus--beg pardon--_kiss_, of course---Tulkiss is an honorable
man," put in Stalky.

"--that the Sixth can't protect 'emselves from bein' kissed when they
go for a walk!" cried Beetle, taking up the running with a rush. "Sweet
business, isn't it? Cheerful thing to tell the fags, ain't it? We aren't
prefects, of course, but we aren't kissed very much. Don't think that
sort of thing ever enters our heads; does it, Stalky?"

"Oh, no!" said Stalky, turning aside to hide his emotions. McTurk's face
merely expressed lofty contempt and a little weariness.

"Well, you seem to know a lot about it," interposed a prefect.

"Can't help it--when you chaps shove it under our noses." Beetle dropped
into a drawling parody of King's most biting colloquial style--the
gentle rain after the thunder-storm. "Well, it's all very sufficiently
vile and disgraceful, isn't it? I don't know who comes out of it
worst: Tulke, who happens to have been caught; or the other fellows who
haven't. And we--" here he wheeled fiercely on the other two--"we've
got to stand up and be jawed by them because we've disturbed their
intrigues."

"Hang it! I only wanted to give you a word of warning," said Carson,
thereby handing himself bound to the enemy.

"Warn? You?" This with the air of one who finds loathsome gifts in his
locker. "Carson, would you be good enough to tell us what conceivable
thing there is that you are entitled to warn us about after this
exposure? Warn? Oh, it's a little too much! Let's go somewhere where
it's clean."

The door banged behind their outraged innocence.

"Oh, Beetle! Beetle! Beetle! Golden Beetle!" sobbed Stalky, hurling
himself on Beetle's panting bosom as soon as th