Harley's bed-room, which
opened out of the lavatory, and knocked.
No answer. He knocked a little louder. Still no answer. Louder still.
"Bother the fellow," said Wildney; "he sleeps like a grampus. Won't one
of you try to wake him?"
"No," said Graham; "'taint dignified for fifth-form boys to have
stomach-aches."
"Well, I must try again." But it seemed no use knocking, and Wildney at
last, in a fit of impatience, thumped a regular tattoo on the
bed-room door.
"Who's there?" said the startled voice of Mr. Harley.
"Only me, sir!" answered Wildney, in a mild and innocent way.
"What do you want?"
"Please, sir, I want the key of the lavatory. I'm indisposed," said
Wildney again, in a tone of such disciplined suavity, that the others
shook with laughing.
Mr. Harley opened the door about an inch, and peered about suspiciously.
"Oh, well, you must go and awake Mr. Rose. I don't happen to have the
key to-night." And so saying, he shut the door.
"Phew! Here's a go!" said Wildney, recovering immediately.
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