So the Doctor sees nothing, but fascinates Tom in a horrible manner as he stands there, and reads out the psalm, in that deep, ringing, searching voice of his.

Prayers are over, and Tom still stares open-mouthed after the Doctor's retiring figure, when he feels a pull at his sleeve, and turning round, sees East.
"I say, were you ever tossed in a blanket ?" "No," said Tom; "why ?" "'Cause there'll be tossing to-night, most likely, before the sixth come up to bed.

So if you funk, you just come along and hide, or else they'll catch you and toss you." "Were you ever tossed?
Does it hurt ?" inquired Tom.
"Oh yes, bless you, a dozen times," said East, as he hobbled along by Tom's side upstairs.

"It don't hurt unless you fall on the floor.

But most fellows don't like it." They stopped at the fireplace in the top passage, where were a crowd of small boys whispering together, and evidently unwilling to go up into the bedrooms.