"Hold that noise up in the corner," called out the prepostor, sitting
up and looking round his curtains; and the Tadpole and young Green sank
down into their disordered beds; and then, looking at his watch, added,
"Hullo! past eight. Whose turn for hot water?"
(Where the prepostor was particular in his ablutions, the fags in his
room had to descend in turn to the kitchen, and beg or steal hot water
for him; and often the custom extended farther, and two boys went down
every morning to get a supply for the whole room.)
"East's and Tadpole's," answered the senior fag, who kept the rota.
"I can't go," said East; "I'm dead lame."
"Well, be quick some of you, that's all," said the great man, as he
turned out of bed, and putting on his slippers, went out into the great
passage, which runs the whole length of the bedrooms, to get his Sunday
habiliments out of his portmanteau.
"Let me go for you," said Tom to East; "I should like it."
"Well, thank 'ee, that's a good fellow. Just pull on your trousers, and
take your jug and mine. Tadpole will show you the way."
And so Tom and the Tadpole, in nightshirts and trousers, started off
downstairs, and through "Thos's hole," as the little buttery, where
candles and beer and bread and cheese were served out at night, was
called, across the School-house court, down a long passage, and into the
kitchen; where, after some parley with the stalwart, handsome cook, who
declared that she had filled a dozen jugs already, they got their hot
water, and returned with all speed and great caution.
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