I joy much Riddell knoweth it.
Telson telleth Parson that Riddell is gross expelling for Beamish's and Wyndham weepeth in private.

I smile at the practice Mr Parrett bowleth me balls.

I taketh them and am out." If Bosher could have seen the effect of this elegant extract upon the captain he would probably have "joyed" with infinite self-satisfaction.
Riddell's colour changed as he read and re-read and re-read again these few lines of idiotic jargon.
He lay down the book half a dozen times, and as often took it up again, and scrutinised the entry, and as he did so quick looks of perplexity, or joy, or shame, even of humour, chased one another across his face.
The truth with all its new meaning slowly dawned upon him.

It had been reserved to Bosher's diary, of all agencies in the world, to explain everything, and cast a flood of light upon what had hitherto been incomprehensible! Of course he could see it all now.

If this diary was to be believed-- but was it?
Might it not be a hoax purposely put in his way to delude him?
Yet he could not believe that this laboriously written record could have been compiled for his sole benefit; and this one entry which he had lit upon by mere chance was only one of hundreds of stupid, absurd entries, most of which meant nothing at all, and which seemed more like the symptoms of a disease than the healthy productions of a sane boy.
In this one case, however, there seemed to be some method in the author's madness, and he had given a clue so important that Riddell, in pondering over it that evening and calculating its true value, was very nearly being late for the doctor's tea at seven o'clock.
However, he came to himself just in time to decorate his person, and hurry across the quadrangle before the clock struck.
On his way over he met Parson and Telson, walking arm-in-arm.