"
"Yes; but two fowls isn't enough for six hungry boys."
"No, it isn't," said Wildney. He thought a little, and then, clapping
his hands, danced about and said, "Are you game for a _regular_
lark, Eric?"
"Yes; anything to make it less dull. I declare I've very nearly been
taking to work again to fill up the time."
Eric often talked now of work in this slighting way partly as an excuse
for the low places in form to which he was gradually sinking. Everybody
knew that had he properly exerted his abilities he was capable of
beating almost any boy; so, to quiet his conscience, he professed to
ridicule diligence as an unboyish piece of muffishness, and was never
slow to sneer at the "grinders," as he contemptuously called all those
who laid themselves out to win school distinctions.
"Ha, ha!" said Wildney, "that's rather good! No, Eric, it's too late for
you to turn 'grinder' now. I might as well think of doing it myself, and
I've never been higher than five from lag in my form yet."
"Haven't you? But what's the regular lark you hinted at?"
"Why, we'll go and seize the Gordonites' _pigeons_, and make another
dish of them.
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