"
"'Tis well. I will be with you in about two ticks."
Mike walked on towards the field, and Psmith, strolling upstairs to
fetch his novel, found Mr. Downing standing in the passage with the
air of one who has lost his bearings.
"A warm afternoon, sir," murmured Psmith courteously, as he passed.
"Er--Smith!"
"Sir?"
"I--er--wish to go round the dormitories."
It was Psmith's guiding rule in life never to be surprised at
anything, so he merely inclined his head gracefully, and said nothing.
"I should be glad if you would fetch the keys and show me where the
rooms are."
"With acute pleasure, sir," said Psmith. "Or shall I fetch Mr.
Outwood, sir?"
"Do as I tell you, Smith," snapped Mr. Downing.
Psmith said no more, but went down to the matron's room. The matron
being out, he abstracted the bunch of keys from her table and rejoined
the master.
"Shall I lead the way, sir?" he asked.
Mr. Downing nodded.
"Here, sir," said Psmith, opening a door, "we have Barnes' dormitory.
An airy room, constructed on the soundest hygienic principles. Each
boy, I understand, has quite a considerable number of cubic feet of
air all to himself. It is Mr. Outwood's boast that no boy has ever
asked for a cubic foot of air in vain. He argues justly----"
He broke off abruptly and began to watch the other's manoeuvres in
silence.
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