Scene - Boudoir of eminent Irish sermonizer (No. 8.) The E.I.S. studiously trying to mount a Latin text on its pony. A number of books nudging each other along shelves by the lamp. Winkie in corner exhales faintest possible odour of sanctity.
E.I.S. (scratching bald forehead with a puzzled air and a lead pencil) - "This is too much for me. I have been plugging Pearson all day and I'm dead tired. The argument palls on me. It is one more thing to be tired for at Christmas "Oh hang!" (Lookig up wistfully at map with railway double-tracked in red ink to Dur'm.) That is the only slangword I ever permit myself since I left the road and took to the --
Just listen to that Arts Man in there! Shocking! I hate vulgar [slang - crossed out] profanity and spurn it. I didn't break out myself even when they put me in the bathtub, head down, or -- "(Violent thump on door, and before the E.I.S. has time to say 'come in', the High Arts man from next door, without being invited, takes time by the doorlock and smashes in)
High Art - "Halls, Fawther, why don't you quit your plugging and wipe the cobwebs out of your eyes. Why all this toil and scrubble, as my friend Worksworth says."
E.I.S. "You [come - o changed to a] came in with a Big Push. Have a little regard for -- Here, don't sit on that chair; I've just being glueing it up again".
High Art - (sitting on bed) "H'm! seems to be something in this bed. I wonder -"
E.I.S. - (Helping H.A. to search) "yes, I think Sudgrove was in here at tea-time, so - Look here, the shot!"
High Art - "And here's the heavy hammer. Ha! Ha! Pretty good.
E.I.S. (laughing less heartily) - 'This kind of horseplay ought to be nearly played out now. I'm tired of it for one.
High Art - "You're not the only one. Some of the fellows here act as if "they had never been in a drawin' - room." You have to be careful whom you associate with round Varisty (sic.). Keep away from "the rougher sort". But see here,
Fawther, you had as much as anyone to do with that affair in my room last night."
E.I.S. (rolling his eyes as though he had just received a letter from home) - "What did you come in here for?"
High Art - "Let me have your discordance for a little while. I have to talk to the Old People's Home on Athlics, and I want to find out whither Mr Sage's Fiskology is
E.I.S. - "I have a sermon myself on Athletics - two or three of them. Snelgrove took one for the jail and hasn't brought it back yet.
High Art - "Well, give me the discordance and your tug-o'-war Exhortation. - Thanks, (Exit High Art.) (Returning) - "There's too much authority around
here. We're no Kindergarten, I say. You'll have to learn smoking, too, now there's a law against it."
E.I.S. - "I should have given him the Lacrosse sermon. That is a regular whirlwind."
A young English student - McGoun was jumping, but tripped and fell down; He carried a care, And perhaps he is vain For he covered it up with his gown.
A junior from Wingham, Frank Powell was a terror to hoot and to howl; But he snickered so loud That he startled the crowd And caused the Professor to scowl.