Slightly inconsistently, Alan also wrote:
Chris always seemed to me very modest. He would never for instance tell Mr Andrews that his ideas weren't sound although the opportunity occurred again and again. More particularly he very much disliked to offend anyone in any way and often used to apologise (e.g. to masters) in cases where the average boy would not dream of doing so.
The average boy, as all school stories and magazines admitted, held the masters in contempt – especially in 'Stinks'. It was the most obvious contradiction of the system. But Christopher rose above it all:
A thing about Chris which I think is very unusual, is that he had a very definite code of morals. One day he was talking about an essay in an exam and how it had led to the subject of 'right and wrong'. 'I have some very definite ideas of “right and wrong”, ' he said. Somehow I never seemed to doubt that anything that Chris would do would be right, and I think there was a lot more in that than blind admiration.
Take dirty talk for instance. The idea of Chris having to do with such a thing seemed simply ludicrous, and of course I do not know anything at all about Chris at the house, but I should think in this respect he would prevent dirty talk by making people not want to do it rather than making them avoid shocking him. This of course tells you nothing but the way his personality impressed me. I remember an occasion when I made a remark to him on purpose, that would decidedly not pass in a drawing room, but which would not be thought anything of at school, just to see how he would take it. He made me feel sorry for saying it, without him in any way seeming silly or priggish.
Despite all these amazing virtues, Christopher Morcom was human. He had nearly got into trouble when he was dropping stones down train funnels from the railway bridge and struck a railwayman instead. Another exploit involved sending gas-filled balloons over the field to the Sherborne Girls' School. Nor was their time in the laboratories too solemn. Another boy, a tough athlete called Mermagen, joined them for physics, and the three of them had to work through the practical experiments in a little annex while Gervis taught his class. These classes were enlivened by Gervis's sausage-lamps, painted bulbs which he used as electrical resistances. 'Take another sausage-lamp, boy!' was his catchphrase, and the three of them worked out a comic sketch around the things, which Christopher was thinking of setting to music.