It was
lie-in-bed, and no one was in a hurry to get up, especially in rooms
where the sixth-form boy was a good-tempered fellow, as was the case in
Tom's room, and allowed the small boys to talk and laugh and do pretty
much what they pleased, so long as they didn't disturb him. His bed was
a bigger one than the rest, standing in the corner by the fireplace,
with a washing-stand and large basin by the side, where he lay in state
with his white curtains tucked in so as to form a retiring place--an
awful subject of contemplation to Tom, who slept nearly opposite, and
watched the great man rouse himself and take a book from under his
pillow, and begin reading, leaning his head on his hand, and turning his
back to the room. Soon, however, a noise of striving urchins arose, and
muttered encouragements from the neighbouring boys of "Go it, Tadpole!"
"Now, young Green!" "Haul away his blanket!" "Slipper him on the hands!"
Young Green and little Hall, commonly called Tadpole, from his great
black head and thin legs, slept side by side far away by the door, and
were for ever playing one another tricks, which usually ended, as on
this morning, in open and violent collision; and now, unmindful of all
order and authority, there they were, each hauling away at the other's
bedclothes with one hand, and with the other, armed with a slipper,
belabouring whatever portion of the body of his adversary came within
reach.
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