sir! Oh, certainly, sir! Bear a hand, you “Yes, men!” always “Don’t barge, Bolsover! You’re barging!” “Who’s barging?” jolly well “You are!” here, you ass—” “Look here, you fathead—” “Look Bolsover major shoved Skinner, schooner shoved Bolsover major. The black- board, half up, crashed down again. Mossoo almost danced with excitement and wrath. Along with the backward, three or four fellows sprawled on the floor, barged over by other fellows. It was quite a game. This, in the opinion of the juniors, was better than French! It was much more amusing than French. get that blackboard the Bounder. He could resist the “Here, lets up!” shouted temptation no longer. you be quiet, Smeet, vill—” “Smeet! Zat only sir! in the way, Skinner! Gerrout of the way, you tick! “I’m helpin’, You’re Gerrout!” Skinner, shoved by the Bounder, sprawled over Bolsover major. Vernon-Smith grasped the easel, and it to drop from the floor. Perhaps, by chance, it escaped from his hands, and crashed over on the desks. There was a yell from Billy Bunter, as the easel crashed on the back of his bullet head. I say, you fellows—” “Yarooh! shrieked Monsieur Charpentier. “Smeet!” all right, sir! Quite an accident, sir! Lend a hand, Cherry—don’t “It’s slack there! Lend a hand, Bull!” Half the class gathered round the easel, and dragged it off the desks. They swung it around, and Mossoo hopped like a kangaroo, just escaping having his legs swept from under him as it swept round. ha, “Ha, ha!” Mon Dieu! Zat you touch it not no “Mes garcons! Bad Boys! Smeet! Sherry! more!” ha, “Ha, ha!” The door of No. 10 class-room opened. yelled Hazeldene. He rushed back to his place. There was a general “Cave!” scamper. It was the rather tall figure of the new master of the Remove that stood in the doorway.
“Yes, sir! Oh, certainly, sir! Bear a hand, you men!” “Don’t barge, Bolsover! You’re always barging!” “Who’s barging?” “You jolly well are!” “Look here, you ass—” “Look here, you fathead—” Bolsover major shoved Skinner, schooner shoved Bolsover major. The black- board, half up, crashed down again. Mossoo almost danced with excitement and wrath. Along with the backward, three or four fellows sprawled on the floor, barged over by other fellows. It was quite a game. This, in the opinion of the juniors, was better than French! It was much more amusing than French. “Here, lets get that blackboard up!” shouted the Bounder. He could resist the temptation no longer. “Smeet! Zat you be quiet, Smeet, vill—” “I’m only helpin’, sir! You’re in the way, Skinner! Gerrout of the way, you tick! Gerrout!” Skinner, shoved by the Bounder, sprawled over Bolsover major. Vernon-Smith grasped the easel, and it to drop from the floor. Perhaps, by chance, it escaped from his hands, and crashed over on the desks. There was a yell from Billy Bunter, as the easel crashed on the back of his bullet head. “Yarooh! I say, you fellows—” “Smeet!” shrieked Monsieur Charpentier. “It’s all right, sir! Quite an accident, sir! Lend a hand, Cherry—don’t slack there! Lend a hand, Bull!” Half the class gathered round the easel, and dragged it off the desks. They swung it around, and Mossoo hopped like a kangaroo, just escaping having his legs swept from under him as it swept round. “Ha, ha, ha!” “Mes garcons! Bad Boys! Smeet! Sherry! Mon Dieu! Zat you touch it not no more!” “Ha, ha, ha!” The door of No. 10 class-room opened. “Cave!” yelled Hazeldene. He rushed back to his place. There was a general scamper. It was the rather tall figure of the new master of the Remove that stood in the doorway.