Here the form would laugh: Simpson's cleanliness was a standing joke. "Please, sir, I didn't wake up very early." "That was very distressing." There was a silence. "Well, Simpson?" Vickers would continue in his softest tone. Simpson gazed moodily at the desk, digging nibs into the wood. "Our Simpson seems fonder of water than of Maro. We must tighten the bonds between Simpson and the poet. May I say the whole of the first Georgic this time?" "Oh, sir." "You think the quantity excessive?" Simpson summoned up his courage and said he did think so. "Ah, but the verse is so beautiful," came the answer. "I couldn't deprive you, Simpson. Anyhow, you may begin your _magnum opus_ and let me know when you have reached line two hundred." "Yes, sir." "Thank you, Simpson, that will be delightful. You were translating, Grant, I think." Vickers aimed at being a strong man and he never set a grammar paper in which he did not ask for a comment on the phrase: "Oderint dum metuant." "A capital sentiment, Simpson," he would say with his gentlest smile, as he mouthed out the words. But his pretensions were not idle, as was shown by the fact that he could lose his temper without becoming ridiculous. If a weaker man had called the giant Batson 'a contemptible ass,' Batson would have laughed and the form would have sniggered. But when Vickers flared up he commanded the silence of the greatest. Vickers had a gift of phrase and Martin learned much from him, partly because he was so afraid that he always worked hard, and partly because Vickers took a fancy to him and would give him little hints about translation and composition which he did not choose to waste on the ruck. Martin was less inky and more intelligent than the average new boy who was placed in the Lower Fifth. Moreover, his fear of his master was obvious, and there was no more effective method of flattering Vickers than to fear him and to let your fear be seen.