Mr. Outwood went
the round of the dormitories at eleven.
"And touching," said Psmith, "the matter of noise, must this business be
conducted in a subdued and _sotto voce_ manner, or may we let ourselves
go a bit here and there?"
"I shouldn't think old Outwood's likely to hear you--he sleeps miles
away on the other side of the house. He never hears anything. We often
rag half the night and nothing happens."
"This appears to be a thoroughly nice, well-conducted establishment.
What would my mother say if she could see her Rupert in the midst of
these reckless youths!"
"All the better," said Mike; "we don't want anybody butting in and
stopping the show before it's half started."
"Comrade Jackson's berserk blood is up--I can hear it sizzling. I quite
agree these things are all very disturbing and painful, but it's as well
to do them thoroughly when one's once in for them. Is there nobody else
who might interfere with our gambols?"
"Barnes might," said Jellicoe, "only he won't."
"Who is Barnes?"
"Head of the house--a rotter. He's in a funk of Stone and Robinson; they
rag him; he'll simply sit tight."
"Then I think," said Psmith placidly, "we may look forward to a very
pleasant evening.
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