This was an artful way of introducing the topic of the hour.

"Thank you kindly, yes. He's bound to be somewheres, is my Alf," replied Mr Rollitt.

"It's all right; we're backing him up. He made a ripping run for the School against Rendlesham. He bashed the ball through the scrimmage, you know, and then nipped it up right under their noses and ran it through. They couldn't collar him, he bowled 'em over right and left, and danced on 'em, and landed the touch clean behind the post."

"He meant no harm, young gents, didn't my Alf. He ain't often wiolent, he ain't. There's no offence, I hope?" said the father, quite overwhelmed by this alarming recital.

"No; it was a jolly good run. You ought to have seen it; I and my lot were up the oak, you know; we could have tucked you in. My young brother Percy and his Modern cads—k-i-d-s (I never can pronounce it)— were on the steps."

"Oh," said the poor guest, feeling he ought to reciprocate the civility of his entertainers. "Steps is nice things to be on when you ain't got nowheres else."

"Tea!" shouted Fisher minor, who with Ashby had been busily charging the table.

It was now the turn of the hosts to be shy. At this late period of the term funds had run low, and extras were at a premium. A busy hour had been spent during the forenoon in both houses collecting outstanding debts, contracting loans at the point of the sword, and laying out the contents of the common purse at the shop in delicacies suitable to the occasion. Abernethys and ham, of course, figured prominently. The cake and jam was rather a "scratch lot," as they mostly consisted of "outsides" and "pot-ends" collected from various sources and amalgamated into one stock. But, to compensate for this, Wally had managed to get round the matron, and by representing to her the delicate nature of the entertainment, wheedled her out of a pot of "extra special" tea, and a small jug of cream. For the rest, there were the relics of the "Cock- House" commissariat, a cocoa-nut, generously contributed by Fisher major, and the usual allowance of bread and butter.

The principal delicacy of the feast, however, was contributed by a fair lady, and to Percy belonged the honour and glory of its acquisition.

On his way from Hall he had run flop into the arms of Mrs Stratton, who was carrying in her hands a small basket of hothouse grapes.

"I'm awfully sorry, I say, Mrs Stratton," said the culprit, as the basket and its contents fell to the ground. "So am I," said Mrs Stratton. "There's two bunches out of three not bashed," said Percy, on his knees picking up the ruin. "I say, Mrs Stratton, if you'd let me pay for the other I can give you twopence a week, beginning next week. I'd rather, you know."

Mrs Stratton laughed pleasantly. It was always a satisfaction, she told her husband, to come into collision with a junior. He always got the best of it.

"No, thank you, Wheatfield. But I tell you what you must do."

"All serene, Mrs Stratton," said Percy submissively, preparing himself for a hundred lines at least.

"One of the bunches is damaged. You must take it and get your friends to help you eat it. Good-bye."

On the whole, therefore, the spread provided for Mr Rollitt was a respectable one, and not likely to do discredit to his entertainers.

He was installed in the place of honour in the fender, Wally occupying the seat in the passage, the others ranging themselves on either side of the board. They watched their guest's eye somewhat anxiously, to detect in it any signs of predilection for any particular dish. But he, poor man, was too bewildered by the novel experience he was undergoing to betray any symptoms of appetite.

"What'll you have?" said Percy, presently.

"Well, if you've got a bit of bread and cheese and a drop of something, I don't mind, thank you kindly."

This was rather a damper; but Wally was equal to the emergency.

"Have an Abernethy—that's what Rollitt's been living on. You'll like it. We keep a stock in our shop."

"Only a penny each," said Ramshaw, explanatorily.

"Better have some jam with it," said Cottle.

"Like some tea?" inquired D'Arcy, who had charge of the pot, beginning to fill up a mug the size of the slop-basin with the matron's "extra special."

"The cake's not so bad—there's several lumps not a bit stale," said Ashby.

"If you like cocoa-nut," said Fisher minor, "my brother's lent us one, and I'll cut you a chunk."

"And there's some grapes for you, when you're ready," said Percy, proudly; "a present from a lady."

The awkward thing was that, in their eagerness to see their guest eat, none of the juniors took anything. They continued to pile up the good man's plate till he didn't know where to begin, and fairly bewildered him by each commending the excellence of his own particular delicacy "Thank'ee, young gents. I ain't much of a eater when I'm away from home; no more ain't my Alf. But I'll take a snack, anyhow."

Whereupon, to their delight, he commenced an onslaught on the viands before him, every morsel he ate being followed by eighteen admiring eyes into his mouth. He made short work of the Abernethys and cake, tossed off the tea as if it were a thimbleful, jerked down the hunk of cocoa- nut, gulped the grapes, and generally gave the spectators an admirable and comprehensive performance.

They were charmed. So much so, that out of sheer pleasure they began to eat too. The meal, if brief, was a merry one. Mr Rollitt took a special fancy to the Abernethys—a choice which of course put the shop- directors in an ecstasy. They only reproached themselves that they had not provided twelve instead of six.

At length, partly because there was nothing left but lukewarm water and the toughest crusts of the cake, and partly because the guest's appetite was beginning to flag, the solid portion of the meal came to an end, and the social began.

After sundry nudgings and whisperings and signals among the juniors, Wally filled up his cup with warm water and rose to his feet.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I—you know—that is—shut up, young Cash, unless you want to do it—instead of me—it's this way, you see, you chaps: I sort of think we ought to drink the health of Rollitt's governor. He's a good old sort, and we're backing up old Rollitt. It wasn't a very grand spread. There'd have been some sardines if you'd come last week; but that greedy pig D'Arcy—"

"Go on; it was you finished them, three in two gulps," protested the outraged D'Arcy.

"Look here, young D'Arcy," said Wally, seriously, "am I making this speech, or are you. If you don't shut up, I'll jolly well make you.—We hope you've liked it, and don't mind our drinking your health, you know. It'll be jolly when old Rollitt turns up. We'd ask you again to- morrow, you know, only the grub's run short. Therefore, I have much pleasure in proposing your health."

The toast was drunk with acclamation, the party joining in "For he's a jolly good fellow," much to the alarm of the occupants of the neighbouring studies, who flocked out in the passage to see what the noise was about.

Wally assured them there was no grub left, so they needn't hang about; but a good many of them remained all the same, to hear Mr Rollitt's speech.

"Thank'ee kindly, young masters," began he, with his usual formula; "I ain't no schollard like my Alf is. He could talk to you straight. I'm sorry he ain't here, gents. He's bound to be somewheres, and I'm sure it's no offence meant, his going away. I likes your style, and I hopes that young fly-by-night who says my Alf's a thief will tell him so to his face. My Alf'll settle him proper. Them as pays for my Alf's schooling—which it's two kind ladies, masters, as my missus was kinder foster-sister to—means to make a gent of my Alf. But, bless you, he'd sooner be along of me in the building trade. Not that my Alf ain't a schollard, and can't behave himself. He do behave beautiful to his mother, does Alf, and ain't nothink of a fine gent at home. So there, I tell you straight, and no offence meant, young masters. I like your style, I do. Don't you take on about my Alf bein' a-missing. He's bound to be somewheres. I know'd him do it afore, when things went contrairy. But he wasn't fur off, and come back. On'y don't let 'im cop hold of that there jumper as says he's a thief, or there'll be a row in the 'ouse. Why, my Alf's that straight he wouldn't rob a dog of his bone, not if he was starving. That's flat. So here's to you, young gents; and if you happen to be passing near Crackstoke way, me and my missus'll be proud to see yer. Here's luck!"

The speech was rapturously applauded, not only by the party present, but by the knot of fellows in the passage, who were taking advantage of the necessarily open door to join in the proceedings as outsiders.

Wally, however, resented the intrusion, and as soon as the speech of the evening was ended, ordered one of the tables to be cleared, and placing his chair upon it, made room for the door to be closed on the intruders, much to their disappointment.

After the favourable reception of his speech, Mr Rollitt became very much more at home, and produced a pipe from his pocket, which he proceeded in the most natural way to light. His hosts gazed in a somewhat awe-struck way at the proceeding, but Wally gave the right cue.

"That's right, Mr Rollitt; make yourself at home."

"So I are. You see, in my days, schooling worn't what it is. Now this here school must be a topper."

"It's not bad," said Percy. "You see there was a jolly row on this term between the Classics and our lot, and they had to be taken down a bit."

"Did they?" retorted Wally, very indignant; "how many pegs did you come down? Who had to get our chaps to come and give them a leg-up every other day?"

"Who swindled at Elections and got licked on the hands, eh!"

"Who got their football bagged, and couldn't get it back?"

"Who got kicked out of the front row at the Rendlesham match?"

"'Armony, gents, 'armony," said Mr Rollitt, waving his pipe encouragingly.

The rebuke was opportune. It wasn't fair to the guest to squabble before him.

"We've stashed all that," said Percy, presently; "they got civil to us, so we got civil to them, and we're all in the shop together. And we're all backing up old Rollitt, ain't we, you chaps, and we're going down in a lump for the clubs; and we all shelled out for this do; so it's all right now. See?"

Mr Rollitt thought he did, and nodded amiably. "You see, it's not much larks unless we're all in it. We went up Hawk's Pike, you know."

"No," said Mr Rollitt. "How did that happen?"

"Well, it was this way, you see," began Percy, taking up, as was his wont, the narrative at a remote period. "After those Classic cads—k-i- d-s, you know, had—(Shut up, Wally, I said k-i-d-s; can't you spell?) had caved in."

"Who caved in!" expostulated the Classics.

"Well, after Stratton's, you know, when we started the shop—I say, you'll have to come and see the shop—well—it was before that, though; it was when the row began about Corder not being stuck in—that was before that, you know—Brinkman screwed his foot, so there was a man short for the team, so Clapperton—that's our prefect, you know; he's all right now, but he—hullo, I say, he's gone asleep!"

Sure enough Mr Rollitt, weary with his long journey, with the excitement of the day, and with the excellence of the tea, had dozed off comfortably, on his chair in the fender, with his pipe in his mouth.

Percy felt it unnecessary to pursue his lucid narrative, and the nine hosts sat watching their man as his head nodded forward, and the urgent necessity for a snore presently rendered the position of the pipe no longer tenable.

It was a triumph! No man could have gone off like that unless he had felt thoroughly comfortable. The railway rug was again produced and laid over his knees, and his feet were gently lifted on the hassock, and a pillow was neatly inserted at the back of the chair; and all looked so snug, and the hospitable juniors were so pleased with the result, that they had the vanity to let the door stand open, so that all who passed by might see how comfortable they could make a guest when they liked.

To heighten the effect, they decided to do their preparation on the spot, and so not only impress the sleeper when he awoke, but advertise themselves to the outside world as boys who by no means neglected the serious side of school life for its lighter functions.

It must be owned that next day when the work thus accomplished was subjected to the microscopic test of the master's eyes, it was not any better—some said it was even worse—than usual. That had nothing to do with the present.

Wally, who put his chair out again in the passage, had most of his time occupied in making pantomimic appeals for silence from passers-by, to whom he pointed out the figure of the sleeping Mr Rollitt as a justification. The others, debarred from speech (for it was considered that even a whisper might awaken the sleeper, although the violent process of tucking him up just now had failed to do so), were reduced to communication with one another in writing, which took up so much time and paper that very little of either was left for lessons.

At last, after half an hour's suspense, the clang of the house-bell for call-over broke the spell. Mr Rollitt grunted and yawned and opened his eyes, looked about for his pipe, inspected the rug on his knees, took his, feet off the hassock, and finally realised where he was.

"I was nigh 'andy asleep that time," said he, rummaging in his pocket for a lucifer.

"It's all right; we were doing our prep, you know. Now we've got to be called over. If you stick here, we'll be back in a jiffy, and then we'll take you to see the shop," said Wally.

"Thank'ee kindly," said the guest; "don't put yourselves about for me. Take your time, young gents."

"We shan't be long. I say, wait for us, won't you? Don't you go out with any other chaps. They ain't in it, you know."

"I ain't a-going with nobody, don't you make no mistake," was the visitor's satisfactory assurance.

They had some thoughts about locking him in, to make sure of him, but decided to trust his parole, and trooped down impatiently to call-over, binding one another to assemble at the shop immediately afterwards, whither Wally and Percy were to conduct their guest.

To the satisfaction of these young gentlemen, the bird was safely in his cage when they returned, dimly visible through the smoke, looking at the pictures in the illustrated paper. He meekly obeyed their summons, relieving their embarrassment somewhat by putting his pipe away in his pocket as he rose.

"Where's the rest of the pals?" asked he.

"Down at the shop. It's not the regular hour, you know. But we can get in with the key. Come along, Mr Rollitt."

The old Watch-Tower, which, as the reader knows, is the oldest remaining portion of Fellsgarth, was rather an imposing-looking edifice for so mundane an establishment as the School shop. The shop, indeed, occupied only a small apartment on the ground floor, which had previously been used as a porter's lodge, the remainder of the structure, including the disused belfry and watch-turret, being abandoned to the owls and ghosts and ivy, which accorded best with the ancient traditions of the place.

Mr Rollitt, whose profession sharpened his observation for specimens of bygone achievements in his own line of business, noted the venerable exterior before him with admiration.

"That there bit of bricks and mortar," said he, "warn't built yesterday."

"Oh, it's millions of years old," said Wally; "but our shop, you know, has only just been started."

"They don't make copin's like them to-day," repeated Mr Rollitt.

"We go in for good grub cheap," said Percy; "no shoe-leather, like Bob used to sell."

"I reckon them top courses is a hundred year after this here bottom part. Not much jerry there neither."

"We boss it among us, you know," said Wally, "and take turns to serve. We don't get a bad profit either."

Here they were joined by the rest of the party. But to their disappointment Mr Rollitt's interest in the shop was small compared with that he showed in the lay of the bricks, the run of the beams, and the hardness of the mortar.

"They knowed their way about, straight, those days," said he, picking away between two of the bricks with his nail.

"Try one of our 'Rollitt's particular,'" pleaded D'Arcy, in the hope that this invitation at least would interest him.

But no. He went "nosing round," taking no notice of the stores, and putting off all invitations with a "Thank'ee kindly, not to-day."

It was a sore blow to his hosts. After what they had done for him, after the way they had nursed him all day, after the tea they had given him, and the pipes he had smoked in their study! They could have thrown him overboard in their mortification. But the dread lest some one else, some of the middle-boys, for instance, should get hold of him and "run" him, decided them to pocket their feelings and back him up still.

"No offence, young gents," said he presently; "but if you've a ladder 'andy, I'd like to take a look up there."

"Oh, there's nothing up there—only bats and owls," said Wally, "and there's no ladder."

But Mr Rollitt pointed out in a corner, behind the back of the shop, some protruding bits of stone let into the brick, evidently with a view to form a rude ladder or stair to the chambers above.

This promised well. An exploration of the Watch-tower offered some little compensation for the slight put on their shop.

"I never saw that before," said Wally. "I vote we go up."

Mr Rollitt led the way with all the agility of a practical hodman. The steps ended with a trap-door in the ceiling, which he pushed up before him.

"Mind how you go, young gents," said he to his followers; "one at a time on them stones."

The trap-door opened into a sort of passage, at the end of which was a narrow brick corkscrew staircase.

It was too dark to do anything but feel their way up; Mr Rollitt leading, and testing every step as he went along.

"Why," said Wally suddenly, and with a touch of alarm in his voice, as they were halting a moment to allow Mr Rollitt to inspect with the end of a lucifer one of the loophole windows, "why, look up there—there's a light!"

They looked. And there, struggling apparently from under a door which closed the head of the stairs, came a streak of light.

"I say—it's ghosts," said Fisher minor. "Let's go back."

"More likely it's my Alf," said Mr Rollitt. "I know'd he was somewheres not fur off."

He went up, followed at a more respectful distance than before by the boys, and pushed open the door.

They heard the sound of an exclamation within, and a noise as of some one starting to his feet. Next moment, as the light streamed down the staircase, they heard a familiar voice say—

"Father!"

"That's me, Alf, my boy; I know'd you was somewheres 'andy."

"I say," said Wally, in an excited whisper to his followers, "we'd best cut back, you chaps. They don't want us up there."

The delicate suggestion was appreciated by the party, who forthwith made a precipitate retreat.

"We as good as found him, that's one thing, and nobody else was in it," said Percy triumphantly.

"Rather not. Keep it mum. Let's go and light the fire in his room, and have some grub ready for him. Good old Rollitt, I'm jolly glad he's turned up!"

"That's how he got the Abernethys," said D'Arcy. "Jolly honest to pay for them."

"You don't suppose anybody would collar things out of the shop and not pay for them, you lout, do you?"

Whereat, leaving the door on the latch, they marched arm in arm across the School Green kicking every junior they met, and mystifying everybody by whistling at the top of their voices, "See the conquering hero comes."



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE FINAL KICK.

Rollitt's return to Fellsgarth was almost as mysterious as his disappearance. He answered to his name at call-over next morning as if he had never missed a day this term. And as Dr Ringwood and the other masters were present, and made no remark, it was generally concluded that the truant had turned up over-night, and had had it out with the authorities before bedtime.

Mr Rollitt, Senior, had departed. He had looked into Wally's study after the owner and his crew were in bed to get his bag, and had been driven down in the doctor's fly to Penchurch.

It was also understood that most of the Classic seniors had dropped into Rollitt's study early that morning. To some he had said, "Get out"; with others he had shaken hands. The captain had evidently been among the latter; as, on the notice board that morning, among the names of the fifteen who were to play the first match for the new clubs on Saturday against Penchurch, was that of Rollitt. The excitement caused by this discovery almost put into the shade for the time the equally remarkable fact that Clapperton and Brinkman were included in the same team.

Where Rollitt had been, and what he had been doing, remained a mystery. It was, of coarse, out of the question to ask him. Conjecture was rife, and was greatly assisted by the juniors, who hazarded all sorts of plausible explanations for the general benefit.

"Think he's been to Land's End?" said Wally. "I hear you can do it in a week—sharp walking."

"You can get to America in that time," said Lickford.

"Yes—he does seem to have rather a twang on him. Perhaps that's where he's been to," remarked D'Arcy.

"Penny bank coal-mine's only fifty miles away," said Percy. "It runs under the sea ever so far. I should say it was a ripping place to hide in."

From which and other similar remarks it was concluded that the juniors had a much better notion as to where Rollitt had been than they chose to admit.

They eagerly embraced the first opportunity of going to the shop, and investigating the scene of the mystery for themselves. They carefully locked the outer door against possible intruders, and then in Indian file ascended the stone ladder, and after it the corkscrew staircase.

The room in which they found themselves was pretty much as Rollitt had left it. It had evidently been made use of by a former lodge-keeper as a dwelling-room, for there was a ragged paper on the wall, and an attempt here and there to board over dangerous holes in the floor. Besides which there was a rude shutter to the tiny window, by means of which no doubt Rollitt had succeeded in concealing his presence at night. The remains of a wood fire were on the hearth, and a candle-end showed (what they already knew) that the hermit did not spend all his evenings in darkness.

More than this, in one corner still lay some of the wraps which he had evidently used to extemporise a bed. And an empty box on end in the window convinced them he had sat down during part of his residence. There was also a leaf of exercise paper and a Horace lying on the floor, which evidently had not been brought there by the owls. Altogether, as they looked round, they concluded that, but for the cold, he might have had worse quarters during his temporary exile.

But the discovery that delighted them most was a fragment of a newspaper in which were wrapped the not yet exhausted end of a ham, and half a biscuit!

Over these relics they dwelt with quite an affectionate interest, till somebody said—

"What did he have to drink? He didn't take any of our ginger-beer, and there's no water here."

"Why, you duffer, of course he could get out any time he liked. It's only a latch on the door; any one can open it from inside. He could easily get down to the river in the night, and have a tub, and fetch up some water."

They decided that in future the shop committee, except when Mr and Mrs Stratton were present, should meet nowhere but in "Rollitt's chamber," as they forthwith named the room, and proceeded to dedicate it to that use there and then.

"Do you know," said Wally, "that after we pay back Mr Stratton what he lent us to start with, there'll be a clear L5 to give to the clubs out of the profits?"

"Not bad," said Percy. "They ought to put us in the first fifteen for that."

"Never mind," said D'Arcy; "they've got a jolly hot fifteen for Saturday, Rollitt and all of 'em. We ought to put the Penchurch chaps to bed for once, I fancy."

This was the general impression throughout the School; and, as if to make up for the abstinence of the past few weeks, the fervour of the athletic set waxed high as the eventful day drew near. Yorke had out his men once or twice, practising kicks, and selecting where in the field each player could work to best advantage.

Rollitt, of course, did not attend these practices; but Clapperton and Brinkman did, and soon lost the embarrassment with which they first faced their old rivals and enemies. Corder was down too; dreadfully afraid lest by some mishap he should discredit himself, and so be knocked out of his coveted place in the team. Mr Stratton was on the spot also, advising and admonishing—as no one knew better how to do. Even the doctor showed his interest in the new departure of the clubs by coming down too, and by giving directions to reserve seats in the pavilion for a party of his friends.

The only unenthusiastic person, except Rollitt, was Dangle. He tried at first to brazen it out, and came down to the field with a sneer on his face to look, so he said, "at the good boys exercising themselves." But the juniors soon routed him out of that attitude.

"Booh, hoo! Rollitt's coming! Wants to hear you call him a thief. Run—he'll catch you! Put it on, well run, Dangle, you've missed him this time. Coast's clear, now; you can come back. We'll protect you," and so on.

These attentions made Dangle's visits to the field less frequent. In school, he kept the swagger up still longer.

"So," said he one day to Clapperton, "I thought you didn't approve of cutting fellows dead?"

"No more I do."

"Why do you do it, then?"

"Have you apologised to Rollitt?"

"No."

"Has Rollitt thrashed you?"

"No."

"When one or the other has happened, I shall be delighted to shake hands," said Clapperton.

The alternative was a dismal one, but Dangle saw no third way. Which course was least to be desired he could not for the life of him decide. A fight with Rollitt he knew would end disastrously. But to apologise— and in public!

The reader has already had too football matches in the course of this story. He shall not be wearied with a third.

Suffice it to say the Penchurch men—men, not boys—presented themselves on the appointed day, and all Fellsgarth turned out to see the battle.

Fisher minor scored one more triumph by bringing Rollitt up to the scratch, and so completing as sound and taut a team as Yorke had ever led on to victory.

Mrs Stratton was there, wearing the School colours round her hat; and the doctor was there with his field-glasses, pointing out the heroes of the School to his distinguished visitors.

This time, by much squeezing and mutual accommodation, the oak tree was made to hold nine persons. Who those nine were none could guess, unless indeed they happened to be standing within a hundred yards of the spot without cotton-wool in their ears.

From the first it went hard with the Penchurch men. The School had never played up better. The scrimmages were beautifully packed, and the quarter and half-backs were never off the spot. Only when, above the crowd, Rollitt's head was seen to be at work, and it was apparent he had waked up for a time, was there any risk of confusion. But Yorke's "Play on Rollitt!" generally pulled the scrimmage together again, and warned friend and (after a time) foe what to expect.

There was no holding Rollitt back when he once made up his mind to get the ball through; and no stopping him when once he got fairly started on a run. Twice before half-time and once after he scored a touch-down. Twice Yorke did the same, and once Clapperton.

Corder discovered that a fellow does not always score, and yet may play a steady, useful game. He was disappointed that it was only left him to do the latter; and he set himself down as a failure. But Mr Stratton put him on his feet wonderfully at the end.

"You've improved, Corder. You never played as well."

The others worked well, and contributed to the great result, and perhaps, better still, grudged no one his greater glory. It was Fellsgarth that was playing, not Fullerton, Ranger, Brinkman, Fisher major, or anybody else.

The final goal was Clapperton's. It was an historic event. For the first time in the match the Penchurch men had worked the ball up into the boys' quarters, and fears were being entertained lest, after all, they would save their "duck." The half-backs and quarter-backs of the School were squeezed in, all of a lump, between touch and goal; and those who looked on noticed with alarm that, as matters now stood, an easy drop-kick from any of the enemy's forwards might capture the goal.

Rollitt was the first to put an end to this dangerous state of things. He bore down the scrimmage after his usual fashion, and succeeded, as he broke through, in getting the ball into his hands. But for once he could get no further. Twenty hands seized him and carried him to the ground, but not before he had sent back the ball into Fisher's hands.

"Back up now—hard and fast!" cried Yorke.

Never was order more beautifully carried out, Fisher minor held the leather long enough to pass it to Brinkman. Brinkman staggered on a yard or two and slipped it back to Denton. Denton made a yard or two more and passed it to Corder. Corder fell back with it into the arms of Ranger. Ranger let Corder drop, but captured the ball, and with one of his lightning swoops carried it out of the ruck for twenty yards, when, as he fell, Yorke came up and captured it. Yorke, alas, was cut short in his career before he had gone ten yards, but Clapperton was there to take it. Away he went, shaking off the nearest of his assailants and distancing others, till he too fell gloriously, with his body in play, and his hands in touch, thirty yards from the enemy's lines. The serried ranks formed up on either side. Clapperton, as he stood, ball in hand, ready to throw in, passed his eye along the line of his friends, and stopped short of Yorke. Yorke understood. He caught the ball, and quick as thought, returned it to Clapperton, who, swooping round behind the line, got clear with it once more, and crossing the field, curving in all the way, carried into the enemy's lines at their far corner, whence with a wide sweep he brought it round right behind their posts, a beautiful climax to a beautiful piece of co-operative play.

As Mr Stratton said, nothing all that term had been more hopeful of the new spirit of mutual confidence and support in the School than this triumphant rally.

But the goal was yet to be kicked. To Yorke, of course, belonged the honour.

But Yorke, to every one's surprise, stood out.

"No," said he. "It's Clapperton's goal; he shall kick it."

So Fellsgarth, perhaps for the first and only time in its records, stood by and witnessed the phenomenon of its captain carrying out the ball and placing it for the vice-captain to kick.

It needed all Clapperton's nerve to save him from flurry and failure even over an easy task like this. But he pulled himself together and kicked the goal.

And with that kick he sent flying into the air the last remnant of the bad blood and jealousy which had marred the term and all but wrecked the good old School.

Here let us say good-bye—perhaps not for good. For Yorke and Rollitt, and Clapperton and Fisher, and all of them, are still alive and kicking.

Rollitt, to the general regret, but to his own satisfaction, left Fellsgarth at the end of the term for the more congenial course of a school of engineering. Before he left he invited Fisher minor to tea in his room, and alarmed that young gentleman by sitting for a whole hour without uttering a word. At length, when the guest had to leave, he said—

"Thanks, Fisher minor. Thank those fellows of yours. Tell Yorke the money that bought the boat was what I had been saving for something else. I'll write to you. Get out, now."

That was the last of Rollitt.

Dangle never made up his mind either to apologise or take a thrashing. He never met Rollitt after the return of the latter. When breaking-up day came, he got an excuse to go home earlier than the general crowd; and when School reassembled in January it was known he had left Fellsgarth for good.

The two events of the breaking-up "Hall" were—first the announcement by the doctor that, at his request, Yorke would stay on another term at Fellsgarth; secondly, the presentation of a purse containing five pounds to the School clubs by the nine juniors, as the profits for the term on the business of the School shop.

Which of these two events produced the more terrific cheers the reader must take upon himself to decide.

An hour later, Messrs. Wally, D'Arcy, Ashby, Fisher minor, Percy, Cottle, Lickford, Ramshaw, and Cash, limited, walked arm in arm across the Green, after a farewell call on Mrs Stratton, on their way to the School omnibus, which waited at the Watch-Tower. Their progress was temporarily interrupted by the sudden bolt of Fisher minor in pursuit of a lank, cadaverous figure, wearing the Modern colours, who was strolling innocently off in the direction of Mr Forder's house.

"The young un's got 'em again," said Wally. "Here, come back, young Fisher minor, can't you? We shan't wait."

Fisher minor pulled up. He looked wistfully first at the retreating figure in the distance, then at his eight friends. With a sigh he decided on the latter; and for that term, at least, finally abandoned the quest of his unlucky half-crown.

It took some little time to arrange matters on the omnibus, as one or two innocent middle-boys had had the audacity to occupy the box-seat and the row behind, and had to be cajoled or pulled down. How could any one dare, when those two seats just held nine, to imagine that they were not sacred property?

"That's better," said Wally, when at last the party were safely up, with two rugs over their eighteen knees, and a gross of brandy-balls circulating for the common comfort. "Touch 'em up, driver. Give 'em their heads! I tell you what, you chaps, this has been rather a slow half. I vote we have some larks next term."

"Rather!" chimed in the chorus.

THE END.