Things get
about very quickly in a house. The matron had told the housemaids; the
housemaids had handed it on to their ally, the boot boy; the boot boy
had told Wren, whom he happened to meet in the passage, and Wren had
told everybody else.
There was an uproar going on when Kennedy opened the door, but it died
away as he appeared, and the dormitory gazed at the newcomer in
absolute and embarrassing silence. Kennedy had not felt so conscious
of the public eye being upon him since he had gone out to bat against
the M.C.C., on his first appearance in the ranks of the Eckleton
eleven. He went to his bed and began to undress without a word,
feeling rather than seeing the eyes that were peering at him. When he
had completed the performance of disrobing, he blew out the candle and
got into bed. The silence was broken by numerous coughs, of that
short, suggestive type with which the public schoolboy loves to
embarrass his fellow man. From some unidentified corner of the room
came a subdued giggle. Then a whispered, "Shut _up_, you fool!"
To which a low voice replied, "All _right,_ I'm not doing
anything."
More coughs, and another outbreak of giggling from a fresh quarter.
"Good night," said Kennedy, to the room in general.
There was no reply. The giggler appeared to be rapidly approaching
hysterics.
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