So ended the great battle at the school gate, and it ended only just in time, for as the schoolhouse boys finally gained their quarters, and the enemy picked itself up and turned surlily schoolwards, the doctor and his party arrived on the scene and gave a finishing touch to the rout.

That evening was a sore one for Willoughby. Sore not only in respect of bruised bodies and swollen faces, but still more in the sense of disappointment, suspicion, and foul play.

Among the most violent of the Parrett's the whole mystery of the thing was perfectly clear. These philosophers could see it all from beginning to end, and were astonished any one else should be so dull as not to see it too.

"Of course, it's a regularly arranged thing," said Wibberly, whose face was enveloped in a handkerchief and whose lips were unusually thick. "They've vowed all along to keep their boat at the head of the river, and they've managed it."

"Yes," said another. "They knew what they had to expect if Bloomfield got there. I can see it all."

"But you don't mean to say," said Strutter, "the Premier," "that you think any one of those fellows would do such a thing as cut our rope?"

"I don't know," said Wibberly. "I don't see why they shouldn't. I don't fancy they'd stick at a trifle, the cads!"

"If Gilks had been in the boat," said another, "I could have believed it of him, but he was as anxious for us to win as we were ourselves."

"No wonder; he and his friend Silk have been betting right and left on us, I hear."

"Well, I suppose there's bound to be a new race," said Strutter.

"I don't know," replied Wibberly. "I'd be just as well pleased if Bloomfield refused. The vile cheats!"

Bloomfield, be it said to his credit, was no party to these reckless accusations. Mortified as he was beyond description, and disappointed by the collapse of his ambition, he yet scouted the idea of any one of his five rivals being guilty of so dirty a trick as the cutting of his boat's rudder-line. At the same time he was as convinced as any one that foul play had been at the bottom of the accident, and the perpetrator of the mean act was undoubtedly a schoolhouse boy. What mortified him most was that he did not feel as positive by any means as others that his boat, without the accident, would have won the race. He had been astonished and even disheartened by the performance of the rival crew, who had stuck to him in a manner he had not looked for, and which had boded seriously for the final result.

It was this reflection, more even than the thought of the broken line, which troubled him that evening. Could it be possible that his luck was deserting him?

His companions were troubled by no such suggestion. Indignation was the uppermost feeling in their breasts. Whoever had done the deed, it was a vile action, and till the culprit was brought to justice the whole schoolhouse was responsible in their eyes.

"I wonder a single one of them can hold up his head," exclaimed Game.

"I hope to goodness Bloomfield won't demand a fresh race. I won't row if he does," said Ashley.

"And the worst of it is they'll try to make out now they would have won in any case. I heard one of them say so myself this very afternoon."

"Let them say what they like," said Ashley. "Nobody will believe them."

Perhaps these hot-headed heroes, had they been able to overhear a conversation that was going on at that very time in the captain's study, would have discovered that at any rate it was not the immediate intention of the schoolhouse to insist that the victory was theirs.

Riddell had recovered somewhat from his rough handling that afternoon, but he looked pale and dejected as, along with his friend Fairbairn, he sat and discussed for the twentieth time the event of the day.

"It's quite evident we must offer them a fresh race," said he.

"Yes, I think so," said Fairbairn. "It's hard lines, for I expect it won't be easy to get our men up to the mark again after they are once run down."

"We can't help that," said Riddell. "It's the least we can do."

"Of course. But I don't see, Riddell, old man, that we are bound to hang down our heads over this business. Whoever did it did as mean a trick to us as ever he did to them. I'd like to have him a minute or two, even if he was my own brother."

"Well," said Riddell, "to my mind it seems like a disgrace to the whole house, and the least we can do is to offer to row again."

"Oh, rather; that's settled. I say," added Fairbairn, "I'd give anything to get at the bottom of it. I saw the boats locked up last night, and I was there when they were taken out this morning. I can't imagine how it was done."

"It seemed a clean cut, didn't it?"

"Yes; about three-quarters of the way through. Whoever did it must have been up to his business, for he only touched the right cord on which all the strain comes at the corner."

"It must have been done between five o'clock yesterday and this morning," said Riddell. "If the cut had been there yesterday the line would have given at the corner to a certainty."

"Oh, yes; it must have been done in the night."

"Doesn't the boatman know anything about it?"

"No; I asked him. He says no one opened the door after the boats had gone in except himself and the boat-boy."

"It's horribly mysterious," said Riddell. "But, I say, hadn't we better offer the new race at once?"

"All serene."

"Had we better write?" asked Riddell.

"No; why? What's the use of looking ashamed?" said Fairbairn; "let's go to them. Bloomfield's sure to be in his study."

The two boys went accordingly, and found the Parrett's captain in his study along with Game and Ashley. It was rarely indeed that the schoolhouse seniors penetrated uninvited into the headquarters of their rivals. But on this occasion they had a right cause at heart and honest consciences to back them.

But it was evident at a glance they had fallen on unfriendly society. Game, quite apart from his state of mind with regard to the accident, had not forgotten his repulse at the hands of the new captain a week or two ago, nor had Bloomfield quite got over the indirect snub he had received on the same occasion.

Riddell himself had almost forgotten the circumstance, and attributed the unencouraging aspect of the rival seniors entirely to the day's misadventure.

"Excuse us coming over," said he, feeling that a beginning must be made to the interview, "but we wanted to tell you how sorry our fellows are about the race."

"Have you found out who did it?" asked Bloomfield.

"No," said Riddell, "and we can't even guess."

"But what we came for specially," broke in Fairbairn at this point, "was to say we are quite ready to row you again any day you like."

There was a touch of defiance in the tone of the schoolhouse stroke which was particularly irritating to the Parrett's boys.

"Of course, we would row you—" began Bloomfield.

"But we don't mean to," broke in Game, "till this ugly business is cleared up."

"What do you mean?" asked Fairbairn.

"You know what we mean," said Game, warmly. "As soon as you find out who cut our line we'll go out on the river again."

"Yes; we don't mean to row you till that's done," said Ashley.

"How on earth are we to find out who cut your line any more than you?" said Fairbairn, losing his temper.

"There's no doubt he must be a schoolhouse fellow," said Bloomfield, who but for his friends would have been disposed to accept the challenge.

"I'm afraid he is," said Riddell.

"Well, I won't row again till we know who he is," repeated Ashley.

"Do you suppose we know who he is?" demanded Fairbairn.

"You're the proper people to find out, that's all I know," said Ashley.

"Then you mean to say you won't row again?" asked Fairbairn.

"No, if it comes to that," said Bloomfield.

"Why," said Game, "the same thing might happen again."

"If you'd looked to your lines before you started," said Fairbairn, hotly, "it wouldn't have happened."

"We shall certainly make a point of looking at them again when next we row you," said Ashley, with a sneer.

Fairbairn seemed inclined to retort, but a look from Riddell deterred him.

"Then you won't row again?" he repeated once more.

"No."

"Then we claim to-day's race," said Fairbairn.

"You can claim what you like," said Game.

"And our boat remains at the head of the river."

"It doesn't matter to us where it remains," replied Ashley. "You may think what you like and we'll think what we like."

It was evidently useless to attempt further parley, and the two schoolhouse boys accordingly retired, bitterly disappointed to be thwarted of their only chance of righting themselves and their house in the eyes of Willoughby.

It soon got to be known there was to be no second race, and, as usual, all sorts of stories accompanied the rumour. The enemies of the schoolhouse said openly that they had refused Bloomfield's demand for a new race, and intended to stick to their ill-gotten laurels in spite of everybody. On the other side it was as freely asserted that Parrett's had funked it; and some went even so far to hint that the snapping of the rope happened fortunately for the boat, and saved it under cover of an accident from the disgrace of a defeat. The few who knew the real story considered Bloomfield was quite right in refusing another race till the culprit of the first should be brought to justice.

But the two fellows on whom the announcement fell most severely were Gilks and Silk. For if the race of that day was to stand, the schoolhouse boat had definitely won the race, and consequently they were both losers to a considerable extent.

They had counted almost certainly on a second race, but now that this had been decided against, their wrath and dismay knew no bounds. They spent the evening in vituperations and angry discussion, and ended it in what was very little short of a downright quarrel. Indeed, if young Wyndham had not opportunely arrived on the scene shortly before bedtime and created a diversion, the quarrel might have come to blows.

Wyndham burst into the room suddenly.

"Has either of you seen my knife?" he enquired; "I've lost it."

"Have you?" inquired Silk.

"Yes; I fancy I left it here last night. I say, have you heard Parrett's won't accept a new race?"

"I wonder why?" asked Silk.

"Because they say they won't have out their boat again till the fellow's found who cut the lines."

"Well, I don't blame them—do you, Gilks?" said Silk. "I suppose there's no idea who he is?"

"Not a bit," said Wyndham; "I wish to goodness there was. Some fool, I expect, who's been betting against Parrett's."

"I could show you a fool who's been betting on Parrett's," said Silk, "and who's decidedly up a tree now! I say, young 'un, I suppose you couldn't lend me a sov. till the end of the term?"

"I've only got half-a-sov. in the world," said Wyndham.

"Well, I'll try and make that do, thanks," said Silk.

Wyndham pulled out his purse rather ruefully and handed him the coin.

"Mind you let me have it back, please," he said, "as I'm saving up for a racket. And I say," added he, leaving, "if you do come across my knife, let's have it, will you?"



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

BOSHER, HIS DIARY.

Probably no two boys in all Willoughby were more excited over the result of the famous boat-race than Parson and his dear friend Telson. And it is hardly necessary to state that this agitation arose from totally conflicting reasons.

Parson's indignation found solace in the most sweeping and vehement invectives his vocabulary could afford against the unknown author of the dastardly outrage upon his rudder-line. By an easy effort of imagination he included the whole schoolhouse, root and branch, in his anathemas, and by a very trifling additional effort he discovered that the objects of his censure were guilty, every one of them, not only of this particular crime, but of every crime in the Newgate Calendar, from picking pockets to murder. He fully agreed with the decision of his chiefs to have nothing more to do with such a graceless crew till the injury was atoned for; and meanwhile he felt himself at perfect liberty—nay, it was his painful duty—to insult, abuse, and maltreat, as occasion offered, every one unlucky enough to wear the schoolhouse ribbon on his cap.

This being the case, it may be imagined his friend Telson (who, by the way, had barely recovered from the shock of Brown's party) found himself in a very delicate position. For in the whole of his code of honour two points were paramount with him. One was loyalty to the schoolhouse, the other was loyalty to Parson. How these two duties could be carried out now, at one and the same time, was a source of much anxiety to the perplexed Augustus.

He too was as indignant about the whole affair as his friend. But his wrath was aimed first of all against those who dared to insinuate that any schoolhouse boy could have been guilty of the evil deed, and next against the Parretts' authorities for refusing Riddell's and Fairbairn's offer of a new race.

He and his friend had a long and painful discussion of the whole question an evening or two later in the study of the latter.

"It's all very well," said he, "to say it's a schoolhouse chap has done it—"

"I tell you a schoolhouse chap must have done it," said Parson. "Who else would do such a dirty trick?"

"I'll fight you, old man, if you go on like that," observed the schoolhouse fag.

"Oh, beg pardon," said Parson, apologetically. "I mean who else could have done it, you know?"

"A Welcher might," suggested Telson.

"What would be the good to him? They hadn't a boat. Besides, they all go against Riddell, don't they?"

"Well, I mean to say," said Telson, falling back on to the next grievance, "your fellows ought to row us again. We'd have rowed you again like a shot if our line had smashed. We don't funk you."

"And do you think we funk you? A pack of—I mean," added Parson, pulling up in time, "do you think we funk you?"

"Why don't you row us again, then?"

"Because there's no honour in the thing while your fellows go in for beastly low dodges like that," replied Parson.

"I tell you," said Telson, finding it very difficult to keep in with his friend, "we did not do it. I say we didn't do it; there!"

"What's the use of your saying that when you know no one but a schoolhouse fellow could have done it?" demanded his friend.

"I tell you we didn't do it," repeated Telson, "and you've got to prove we did before you say we did," added he, with triumphant emphasis.

"You've got to prove you didn't," replied Parson, not to be beaten in this line of argument.

"How can I prove we didn't when—when we didn't do it?" cried Telson, making up in noise for what he lacked in logic.

"I knew you couldn't prove it!" said Parson, triumphant in his turn. "I knew it was one of your blackguard—"

"All right, old man, I shall fight you," said Telson.

"I didn't mean, old man, really," said Parson. "What I mean to say is—"

"I don't care what you say," said Telson. "What I say is, we did not do it!"

"All very well," replied Parson, "but I'm certain you did."

"How are you certain, I'd like to know?"

"Because, I tell you," said Parson, slowly and incisively, "it couldn't have been done by any one else."

"How do you know it couldn't?" asked Telson warmly.

"There you are! If you didn't do it you'd be able to prove it, but you can't, you see."

And so this edifying argument went on, or rather round, very much after the style of a dog trying to catch his tail, and at its close Parson and Telson stood as far from solving the mystery as ever.

This slight difference of opinion, however, could hardly fail to result in a little mutual irritation, and for the first time in their friendship the two boys felt as if they did not love one another exactly like brethren. It was therefore no small relief when further argument was abruptly cut short by the entrance of King, looking particularly cheerful and important.

"Hullo, you two!" exclaimed he. "Guessed I'd find you here. Such a lark!"

"What is it?" asked the two friends, delighted with any diversion.

"Why," exclaimed the delighted King, "you know Bosher?"

"What about him? What's he done?"

"Guess."

"It's not he that cut the rudder-line, is it?" asked Telson.

"No, of course not. But, just fancy, he keeps a diary!"

"What!" exclaimed the other two, laughing, "old Bosher keep a diary! How do you know that?"

King looked very mysterious, and then said, laughing, "I say, what would you give for a squint at it?"

"Have you got it, then?"

"Rather," said King, producing a small notebook from his pocket. "I found it in the Big just now."

The notion of Bosher keeping a diary had been amusing enough, but the chance of looking at such a production was irresistible.

The boys did make one languid protest, more, however, to relieve their consciences than to dissuade one another from the meanness of looking into another boy's diary.

"Rather low, perhaps," said Telson, "to look at a fellow's notes."

"I don't know," said King. "If a fellow keeps a diary he must expect it to be looked at if he leaves it about. I know I should."

"Well, yes, so should I too," said Parson. "Besides, you know, of course we wouldn't tell any one else."

"Rather not," said Telson. "But you know, Parson," he added, seriously, "it's just possible he might have something about the rudder-line in it, and it would be a great thing to clear that up, wouldn't it?"

"So it would," said Parson, seating himself at the table.

Telson and King did the same, and Bosher's diary was forthwith opened.

To all appearance Bosher was the most unlikely boy in all Willoughby to keep a diary. He was not usually credited with overmuch intelligence, and certainly not with much sentiment, and the few remarks he did occasionally offer on things in general were never very weighty. He was a good-tempered, noisy, able-bodied fag, who was at any one's service, and who in all his exploits did about as much work for as little glory as any boy in the school.

The present discovery certainly revealed him in a new and startling light, and it was with a feeling somewhat akin to awe that the three boys who called themselves his friends set themselves to the task of inspecting his private—his very private diary.

The small volume dated from the beginning of the term, and the first entry the trio examined may be taken as a fair specimen of its general contents.

"'May 20. The twentieth of May. I awake at 5:37, and got up at 5:43. My motive is to see the boats. It was a beautiful and fine morning. The early birds were singing gladly wore my flannels for running along with the boat.'"

Bosher was a little shaky occasionally in his punctuation, which will explain any apparent incoherence in the above and following sentences.

"'I sang as I dressed except while washing The Minstrel Boy. Started out at 6:2—met Parson in the Big. Parson thinks too much of himself.'"

"Sharp chap, Bosher," said King.

"I'll pull his nose when I see him," said Parson, who, however, did not appear very deeply affronted so far.

The reading continued.

"'Parson ran on and left me alone. Now that I am alone let me muse on my past life and hope it will be better only the schoolhouse boat was out. I think they or our boat will win. Nice seeing them row Gilks catches a crab'" (this was previous to Gilks's ejection from the boat). "'Entered chapel at 1 to 8. King was there eating toffee.'"

"Hullo, King, you're all right. When this diary's published some day, you'll figure all serene," said Telson, laughing.

"Wait a bit," said King, "your turn's coming."

"'At breakfast sit opposite Telson. He eats vulgar. Thou shouldest not talk with thy mouth full, Telson, I prithee.'"

The readers fairly broke down at this point. Telson had to admit that his turn had come, and relieved himself by announcing that he would prithee his candid chronicler some day in a way which would astonish him.

"'Meditations at breakfast,' continued the diary. 'The world is very big. I am small in the world. I will ambition twenty lines for gross conduct with Harrison—throwing bread I repent entirely. Parson wanted me to do his "Caesar" for him.'"

"Oh, what a whacker!" exclaimed Parson.

"'I declined, owing to not knowing—'"

"I can believe that!" added Parson.

"'Both detained for gross conduct not knowing verbs my home is far away. Let out at 12:28.'"

"What rot it is!" exclaimed Parson, looking up. "What a howling young ass he must be to put it all down!"

"I guess he didn't expect we'd see it," said Telson. "But, I say, we can't read it all. Let's see what he says about the boat-race."

This was agreed to, and the eventful day was turned to.

"'Rose at 7:3,'" began Telson, reading—"oh, we don't want that. Let's see, 'Attended chapel at half a minute to eight. Half a minute more I had been too late. That had been bad alas had I been bad it had been bad for me next to Wyndham in chapel. Wyndham hath lost his knife he requested me had I seen it. I answered nay I had not. He said—' Oh, what frightful bosh it is, I say!"

"So it is; but it would be a spree to see what he says about the race."

"That'll be pages on, at the rate he goes at," said Telson, whipping over a few leaves. "Let's see. 'Gross conduct with King talking in class King meanly tells Parrett he is a beastly sneak.'"

"What does he say?" exclaimed King. "I told Parrett he was a beastly sneak? What crams the fellow tells! Fancy me saying that to Parrett! All I said was I wasn't talking!"

"Why, I see it," said Parson. "He's left out a semi-colon or something; the 'he's a beastly sneak' means you, old man. 'King meanly tells Parrett. He [that is, King] is a beastly sneak.' That makes it all right."

"Does it?" cried the indignant King—"does it make it all right! I'll make it all right for him, I can promise him. I never sneaked of him in my life!"

"Wire in, old man, and get to the race," urged Parson impatiently.

"Here, this looks like it," said Telson, reading. "'Being the boat-race no afternoon school I am pleased. A vast mass on the towpath I being in flannels waited twenty-three minutes for the start. Meditating as I stood, how vast is the world.' (Hullo! he had that before; that seems to be his usual meditation.) 'How vast is the world. I am small in the world Parson is a conceited ass.'"

Parson turned very red in the face, of course, at this unexpected turn, which, however, his two companions greatly enjoyed.

"'Parson is a conceited ass—'"

"I say, you needn't go over it twice," expostulated the injured youth.

"'A conceited ass,'" continued Telson, his voice wavering with suppressed laughter. "'He thinks he is a great man but he's little in the world and fond of gross conduct. He and Telson are the conceitedest asses in Willoughby.'"

This double shot fairly broke down the gravity both of reader and audience, and it was some little time before the diary could proceed. The account of the race which followed was evidently not original. It appeared to be copied verbatim from an account of the last University Boat-race, with a few interpolations intended to adapt it to the present circumstances. It began thus:

"'Punctually at half-past eight ["eight" scratched out and "three" substituted] Mr Searle [altered to Mr Parrett] gave the signal to go, and at the word the sixteen oars dashed simultaneously into the water. The Oxonians were the first to show a lead, and at the Creek ["Creek" scratched out and nothing substituted] were a foot to the good. The Craydle is a pleasing river with banks running up from the sea to slopes up the Concrete Wall this advantage was fully maintained ["maintained" altered to "lost"]—'"

"Oh, skip all that," said Parson impatiently; "go on to the part about Willow Corner."

"'About a mile from home the Oxford stroke ["stroke" altered to "Bloomfield"] spurted, and the dark blue flag ["dark blue" altered to "schoolhouse"] once more shot ahead. Gross steering by Parson, who I allude to above, who steers his boat into the bank and breaks rudder- line. It is ascertained Fairbairn and others are suspected. After this a ding-dong race ensued to the finish where eventually the dark [altered to "light"] blues won by a foot [altered to "mile"] Parrett's having given in owing to Parson who is alluded to above.'"

"Oh, I say, this is a drop too much," exclaimed the wrathful Parson, rising. "I'll pay him out for this, see if I don't!"

"Don't be an ass, Parson," said Telson. "Sit down, can't you? You've no business to look at his diary at all, you know, if it comes to that."

Parson sat down with a wrathful countenance, and Telson proceeded.

"We shall not see a new race as I hear Riddell and Bloomfield declining. I spoke to Parson who completely repents. He suspects Telson who he ascertains is the one to do it. It is gross. How many things go wrong. Wyndham hath not found his knife he requested me had I seen it. I answered nay, not so. I have composed these verses which I will set down here as they may recall the past:—

"'My name is Norval [altered to "Bosher"], on the Grampian [altered to "Willoughby"] hills. My father [altered to "Doctor Patrick"] feeds his flocks [altered to "boys"]'."

"Well," said Telson, as he closed the thrilling narrative, and tossed it back to King, "I never thought Bosher was up to much, but I didn't know he was a downright lunatic."

"Oh, I don't know," said King. "It's not so bad. I tried to keep a diary once, but I could never find anything to say."

"Well, I guess Bosher's not hard-up in that line," said Telson, laughing. "But, I say, we ought to give it to him back somehow."

"I'll give it to him back pretty hot!" exclaimed Parson. "I vote we burn the boshy thing."

"Oh, you can't do that. You'd better smuggle it back into his study somehow, King, without his knowing."

"All serene," said King, pocketing the book. "Hallo! who's this coming?"

As he spoke there was a sound of hurrying footsteps in the passage outside, and immediately afterwards the door opened and revealed none other than the sentimental author of Bosher's diary himself.

Just at present, and luckily for him, he did not appear to be in a sentimental mood; his face was a little scared and mysterious-looking as he hurriedly stepped into the room and shut the door after him.

"Look out, I say!" he exclaimed, "the Welchers are coming!"

This magic announcement dispelled in a moment whatever resentment may have lurked in the minds of any of the three students on account of the diary. In the presence of a common danger like this, with the common enemy, so to speak, at the very door, they were all friends and brothers at once.

"Where? How do you know?" demanded the three.

"I was looking for a book I had lost," said Bosher, "in the Big near our door, and I heard Cusack tell Pilbury to wait till he went and saw if the coast was clear. So they'll be here directly."

"Jolly lucky you heard them," said Parson. "What shall we do, you fellows?"

There was a slight interval for reflection, and then Telson said, "Fancy the jug dodge is about the best. They won't be up to it, eh?"

This proposal seemed to meet with general approval, and as time was precious Parson's tin jug, full of water, was forthwith hoisted adroitly over the door, and delicately adjusted with nail and twine so that the opening of the door should be the signal for its tilting over and disgorging its contents on the head of the luckless intruder. It was such an old method of warfare that the conspirators really felt half ashamed to fall back upon it, only time was short and the enemy might come any moment. As an additional precaution, also, a piece of the twine was stretched across the doorway about three inches from the ground, with the considerate purpose of tripping up the expected visitors. And to complete the preparations, each of the besieged armed himself with an appropriate weapon wherewith to greet the intruders, and thus accoutred sat down and waited the event with serene minds.

The event was not long in coming. Before many minutes a stealthy footstep was heard outside, which it was easy to guess belonged to the spy of the attacking party. Parson motioned to the others to be silent, and seated himself at his table, with a book before him, in full view of the key-hole. The little manoeuvre evidently told, for the footsteps were heard stealthily hurrying away, and the watchers knew the main body would soon be here.

It seemed no time before the approaching sounds gladdened their expectant ears. The invaders were evidently walking in step and trying to imitate the heavy walk of some senior, so as to give no suspicion of their purpose.

The besieged smiled knowingly at one another, glanced up at the suspended jug, and then softly rising with their weapons at the ready, calmly awaited the assault.

Whoever knew a set of Parrett's juniors caught napping? The Welchers would have to be a precious deal more cunning than this if they expected to score off them.

The footsteps advanced and reached the door. There was a brief pause, the handle turned, Parson gave the signal, and next moment—Mr Parrett entered the study!

As he opened the door the jug overhead, true to its mechanism, tilted forward and launched a deluge of water over the head and shoulders of the ill-starred master, just as he tripped forward over the string and fell prone into the apartment, while at the same instant, accompanied by a loud howl, one sponge, two slippers, and a knotted towel flew into his face and completed his demolition.

What Mr Parrett's reflections may have been during the few seconds which immediately followed no one ever found out. But, whatever they were, it is safe to say they were as nothing compared with the horror and terror of the youthful malefactors as they looked on and saw what they had done.

With a cry almost piteous in its agony, they rushed towards him and lifted him, dripping and bruised as he was, to his feet, gazing at him with looks of speechless supplication, and feeling crushed with all the guilt of actual murderers.

It spoke volumes for Mr Parrett's self-control that, instead of sitting and gaping foolishly at the scene of the disaster, or instead of suddenly hitting out right and left, as others would have done, he took out his handkerchief and proceeded quietly to dry his face while he collected his scattered thoughts.

At length he said, "Are these elaborate preparations usually kept up here?"

"Oh no, sir!" cried Parson, in tones of misery. "Indeed, sir, we never expected you. We expected—"

His speech was cut short by a fresh noise outside—this time the real enemy, who, little guessing what was going on within, halted a moment outside before commencing proceedings. Then, with a simultaneous war- whoop, they half-opened the door, and, without entering themselves, projected into the centre of the room—a bottle! Pilbury and Cusack had not studied natural science for nothing!

The strange projectile smashed to atoms as it fell, and at the same instant there arose a stench the like of which the nose of Willoughby had never known before.

Mr Parrett and the boys choked and made a dash for the door, but the enemy were hanging on to the handle in full force, and it was at least two minutes before the almost suffocated Parson could gasp, "Open the door! do you hear? Mr Parrett's here; let him out."

"Won't wash, my boy!" cried a mocking voice—"won't wash! Wait a bit, we've got another bottle for you when you're quite ready!"

"Let me out, boys!" cried Mr Parrett as well as he could for choking and holding his nose.

"Tell you it won't wash, my boy!" cried the insulting voice outside. "Try again! Have a little more sulphuretted hydrogen. Jolly stuff, isn't it? Hold on, you fellows, while I chuck it in!"

The idea of another bottle was more than any one could endure.

Mr Parrett groaned and cleared his throat for another summons, but Parson was before him.

"I say," cried he, in positively piteous tones, "we give in. I'll apologise, anything—do you hear?"

"Eh—go down on your knees, then," cried the enemy.

"I am," said Parson.

"Is he? the rest of you? is he on his knees? both of them?"

"Yes, he is," cried Bosher. "Honour bright."

"Well then, say 'I'm a beastly cad, and a funk, and a sneak, and I knuckle under and will never do it any more.'"

"I'm a beastly cad," gasped Parson, choking with shame, anger, and sulphuretted hydrogen, "and a funk, and a sneak, and I knuckle under and will never do it any more."

"Now all the rest of you say it!"

Telson, Bosher, and King obeyed, one after the other.

"Is that all of you?"

"Yes," said Parson, terrified at the prospect of Mr Parrett having to go through the ordeal. "Telson, Bosher, King, and I are the only boys here."

"All serene," cried the jubilant voice outside, "open the door, you fellows!"

We draw a veil over the scene which followed!

Mr Parrett hurried out of the room the moment the door was open, merely turning to say, "Come to me all of you at seven to-night!"

And then with his handkerchief still over his mouth he hurried off.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A SURPRISE IN STORE.

For a few minutes, as the disconcerted and terrified youngsters stood in a small band at Parson's study-door and watched Mr Parrett slowly retreat down the passage, it seemed as if the final crisis in the career of every one present had arrived.

It would have been bad enough to be caught in the midst of a simple free fight and sent up to the doctor. But the case was far more terrible than that! For Mr Parrett had been fearfully and wonderfully mixed up in the whole affair. A few weeks ago the Parrett's juniors had done their best to drown him; now they had done their best to drown him and break his neck and crack his skull all at one onslaught; and as if that wasn't enough, the Welchers had stepped in at the same moment and added poison and suffocation to the other crimes of which the unlucky master was the victim.

Of course he would think it from the beginning to end one elaborate and fiendish plot against his life. It would not matter to him which boys committed one assault and which another. He had figured as the victim of all parties, and all parties, there could be no doubt, would now be included under one terrific sentence.

In the presence of this common doom, schoolhouse, Parretts, and Welchers for the first time that term showed symptoms of a passing brotherhood.

They stood rooted to the spot and speechless for at least two minutes after the ill-starred master had vanished, then Telson—usually the first to recover his wits—whistled drearily and low, "Whew! we will catch it!"

"Think we'll be expelled?" said Cusack.

"Shouldn't wonder," said Parson, retreating slowly into his study, followed by the rest.

"He'll send us up to the doctor, certain," said King.

There was a long unpleasant pause, at the end of which Cusack said, "Well, it's no use staying here. Come on, you fellows."

"May as well stay," suggested Parson. "We'd better all turn up together."

So it was decided not to break up the party, and that evening the unwonted spectacle of Telson, Parretts, and Welchers, sitting amicably together in one study, might have been noted as one of the greatest wonders of that wonderful term.

Of course boys could not sit and talk of nothing. And of course it was hardly to be expected they would confine their conversation altogether to a review of their misdeeds. The talk gradually became general, and occasionally even animated.

"Guess Pil and I will have to shut up chemistry after this," said Cusack.

Pilbury smiled grimly.

"What do you call the beastly stuff?" asked Telson.

"Sulphuretted hydrogen," said Cusack, briskly. "First of all you take a—"

"Oh, shut up shop! We don't want a chemistry lecture," broke in Parson.

There was a brief pause, then Philpot asked, "I say, is it true then, there's not going to be a new race?"

"Of course not," said Parson; "what's the use when we can't be sure of fair play?"

"Jolly right too," said Cusack, delighted to agree with his old enemy for once; "those schoolhouse cads are cheats, every one of them?"

"All right!" exclaimed Telson jumping up; "I'll fight you, young Cusack, for that!"

Cusack was somewhat taken aback by this unexpected outbreak, but was inclined, nevertheless, to accept the challenge. Parson, however, interfered peremptorily.

"Look here," he said, "we're in quite enough row for one day, without wanting any more. So shut up, you fellows, do you hear?"

"Make him apologise, then," said Telson, wrathfully.

"Oh, all serene. Nobody was hurting you," said Cusack.

"Do you apologise, or do you not?" demanded Telson.

"I didn't say I didn't, did I?"

This was as much as the irascible schoolhouse fag could expect, so he sat down again.

"You know," said Pilbury, anxious to make things quite pleasant again, "a lot of the fellows say the schoolhouse would have won in any case."

"I'd like to know who says that," demanded Parson, whose turn it now was to be angry.

"Oh, everybody in our house. They looked like winning, you know, from the very start, didn't they, Pil?"

"Yes, a lot you and your friend Pil know about rowing," sneered Parson.

"Know as much as you do!"

"Pity if you know such a lot you can't put a boat on the river."

"I tell you what we'll do," said Cusack. "Pil and I will row any two of your lot; there now. Funk it, eh?"

Parson looked hard at the speaker, and then glanced at Telson. Telson glanced back at Parson, and then eyed the Welchers grimly.

"You'd promise fair play?" asked Parson.

"Of course we would; we always do."

"You'd give us fair play, then?" demanded Parson.

"Yes, honour bright."

"All serene. Telson and I will row you; eh, Telson?"

"Rather!" said Telson, "and give them a start too."

"All very well, you fellows," said King, "but suppose we're all expelled to-morrow."

This unpleasant suggestion took away most of the interest in the proposed race, and it was decided to defer further arrangements till the fate of the parties should be decided.

After this the party waited gloomily till seven o'clock came, and then, in decidedly low spirits, rose in a body and repaired to Mr Parrett's study.

Had they been aware of the actual state of that amiable athlete's mind from the moment they last saw him, handkerchief in mouth, hurrying down the passage, till now, their trepidation would have been considerably relieved. The first thing Mr Parrett had done on regaining his room after that "bad quarter of an hour" with his juniors was to throw himself into a chair and laugh heartily.

The fact was, his sense of humour was inconveniently acute for the master of a public school, so that what would strike other masters as a heinous offence, occurred to him more as a ludicrous chapter of accidents. And to Mr Parrett's mind a more ludicrous chapter of accidents had rarely occurred in his history. He saw the whole matter at once, and the more he thought about it the funnier it all seemed. And yet, funny as it was, it was a painful necessity that discipline must be maintained, and that however much he enjoyed the joke he must be severe on the jokers.

When, therefore, the group of youthful culprits slowly filed into his room, his voice was stern and his countenance betrayed no symptoms of the amusement which lurked beneath.

"Now, you boys," said he, surveying the anxious array carefully, "what have you to say for yourselves?"

"Please, sir," began Parson, Telson, and Cusack, all at a breath.

"Stop," said Mr Parrett; "only one at a time. You, Parson, what have you to say?"

"Please, sir," said Parson, "we're all awfully sorry. It was quite an accident, really."

"What was an accident?" demanded Mr Parrett.

"Why, you getting mauled about like—"

"Tell me, Parson," said Mr Parrett, pinching himself to keep himself grave, "was it an accident that your water-can was hung over the door and the string stretched across the bottom of it?"

"Oh no, sir; not that, but—"

"Was it an accident that you had missiles in your hands and threw them in the direction of the door as it was opened?"

"No, sir."

"Then, sir, what was the accident?"

"You were the accident, please, sir," said Parson, sadly.

"I guessed so. And for whom were these preparations intended, pray?"

"For the Welchers, sir," began Parson, longing to launch out into a full explanation; "and please, sir—"

But again the master pulled him up short, and, turning to Cusack and his brother Welchers, said, "And you—your preparations were for—?"

"For the Parretts, sir," broke in Cusack.

"Just so," said Mr Parrett, deliberately. "And now just listen to me. This is not the first time I have had to speak to some of you for this very conduct."

Parson, Telson, Bosher, and the other Parretts looked very dejected at this point.

"And it is by no means the first time this term that all of you have been guilty of similar disturbances. Most of you here look frightened and uneasy enough now. I wish I could believe it was because you know you have been doing wrong and disgracing the school, instead of merely because I happened to have suffered by your bad conduct. But such conduct must be put a stop to. For the remainder of the term each one of you will lose one hour's play a day except Saturdays."

A shudder, half of anguish, half of relief, went round the small assembly at this first clause of Mr Parrett's sentence. The next clause was still more severe.

"For the remainder of this term, too, none of you will be allowed to go into any house except your own, under any pretence, without my leave, or the Doctor's."

Telson and Parson looked at one another and groaned inwardly. They could hardly realise what this cruel sentence involved, but they knew it meant that life would hardly be worth living for the next six weeks.

"And," continued Mr Parrett, "I have one more thing to say. Some of you here are in my house, and every one of you, I see, is in my form in Third School. You are most of you idle boys, and, as you know, there are plenty in the same Form better behaved and more industrious than yourselves."

"Oh yes, sir," said Parson, frankly.

"What I shall do during the remainder of the term is this," said Mr Parrett. "If I hear of any other case of disturbance between the boys of different houses, in which any one of you are implicated, I intend to punish the entire Form, and stop every boy's play for one day. It rests with you, therefore, to decide whether such a thing shall take place or not. But if you give me reason, I shall most certainly do it!"

Mr Parrett spoke severely, and looked as good as his word. He had carefully weighed his words beforehand, and he knew tolerably well the boys with whom he had to deal. They were noisy boys, and troublesome boys, and cheeky boys, and idle boys, but they were honest on the whole, and the master calculated pretty shrewdly on the effect which this last decision would have on their conduct.

As long as it was a mere question of getting his own particular self into a row, not one of these boys fixed any precise limit to his disorderly instincts; but when it came to getting a whole lot of other boys into the row too, a new and very embarrassing difficulty arose which was fairly insurmountable.

Mr Parrett dismissed the boys sternly, and then, trusting he had done right, and trusting still more to be able to turn the better qualities of his noisy young pupils to some good purpose, he went straight to the doctor and told him what he had done.

Dr Patrick fully approved of the decision of his colleague, and while on the subject opened his mind to him on the question of the discipline of Willoughby generally.

"Have you been able to judge at all of the order of the school lately, Parrett?" he said.

"Well, sir," said Mr Parrett, "I'm not sure that it is as good as it should be. Of course, it was an experiment making Riddell captain, particularly as he is not generally popular."

"His unpopularity arises from no cause in himself," said the doctor; "if it did I would not have put him in the post. But he will live it down— in fact, he is doing so now, I fancy."

"I think he is," said Mr Parrett. "The great difficulty is to get him to assert himself."

"I trust," said the doctor, after a pause, "there is no truth in the report that Bloomfield and the monitors of your house are trying to set up a counter authority to Riddell's."

"It is true," said Mr Parrett; "and it is the secret of most of the bad order in the school. But I am not sure, sir, whether it is a matter you would do well to notice. It is one of the difficulties which Riddell has to live down, and which bring him out more than anything else. He has made his mark already on the usurpers."

"You are quite right," said the doctor. "I would rather leave a difficulty like that to right itself. And I dare say the reason Riddell is so slow in asserting himself, as you say, is that in his own house he really has not much to do."

"Exactly," said Mr Parrett.

The doctor paused for a moment and then started on an apparently fresh topic.

"I am afraid Welch's house is no better than it was."

"How can it be?" said Mr Parrett. "It has not a single senior of influence or even character in it."

"And more than that," added the doctor, "it contains a few boys—one or two only, I hope—whose influence is distinctly bad."

Mr Parrett nodded.

"A change of some sort must be made," said the doctor. "It has occurred to me, Parrett, quite recently, that Riddell might do better there."

Mr Parrett opened his eyes wide.

"You are astonished," said the doctor. "So was I when I first thought of it. But Riddell is a safe man, if slow, and his influence is just what is wanted in Welch's. Besides, Fairbairn would make an excellent head for the schoolhouse. What do you think?"

"Without doubt Riddell, as far as character goes, is the best boy you could choose. I'm not quite sure, though, whether he has sufficient force."

"But, as you say, his force answers to his difficulties. At any rate I am disposed to try him. A few weeks will show how he gets on. I have not much fear myself."

And so the head master and his lieutenant separated.

Little dreaming of the changes in store for them, Silk and Gilks were sitting together in the study of the latter, furtively consuming cigar- ends and looking decidedly glum as they conversed together in low and mysterious and not very amicable tones.

"Think he'll do it?" said Silk.

"He had a letter from home this morning," replied Gilks, "I know, because he sat next to me at breakfast while he was reading it."

"Did you see what it said," inquired Silk, as naturally as if looking over another fellow's letters were an ordinary proceeding.

"No, but it was from his brother, and it had a post-office order in it."

"It had? that's lucky. How much was it for?"

"I couldn't see," said Gilks.

"Where is he now?" asked Silk, after a pause.

"I don't know. Probably in his Holiness's study—or, no, it's library night—he'll be there."

"What a nuisance that library is. The young beggar's always pottering about there," said Silk. "Think he'll look us up before bedtime?"

"Don't know," said Gilks.

"You'd better know," said Silk. "He must come, and you'd better see he does."

This last was spoken in a somewhat menacing voice, and Gilks sulkily replied, "What are you in such a hurry to-night for? The morning will do, won't it?"

"No," said Silk, "it won't, there; and if it did, I choose to see him to-night."

"I don't know what makes you so precious disagreeable," growled Gilks. "I don't want to be ordered about by you, I can tell you."

Silk sneered. "I'm under great obligations to you, I know," he said.

"Well," said Gilks, who winced visibly under the satire, "however could I help it? It wasn't my fault, I tell you. I'm awfully sorry you lost on the race, but—"

"But you'd better look alive and do what I tell you," said Silk, viciously.

It was curious, to say the least of it, that in so short a time the Welcher should have so completely got the upper hand of his confederate that the latter departed meekly without another word on his errand.

He found Wyndham, as he had expected, in the library, busy getting together the books for distribution next day.

"Hullo!" said Gilks, with a show of cordiality; "here you are again. You seem to live here."

"No, I don't," said Wyndham, looking not very pleased to be interrupted; "but I always have to get ready an evening before the day, or the fellows kick up such a jolly row when they're kept waiting."

"How long shall you be?" asked Gilks.

"I don't know. Why?" asked Wyndham.

"Only Silk wants to speak to you."

Wyndham's face clouded. He had come fresh from Riddell's study an hour ago. His brother's friend had been as kind as ever. In a hundred ways he had shown it without sermon or lecture, and Wyndham had felt stung with a sense of his own ingratitude and dishonesty as he accepted the help and goodness of his mentor.

Now, consequently, this summons to present himself before Silk was more than usually distasteful.

"I can't come, tell him. It will take me all the evening to finish this."

"You'd better go, though," said Gilks.

"I can't. Why had I better go?" asked Wyndham, looking uncomfortable.

"It's something important he wants you for. You'd better go, young un."

Wyndham flung down the book in his hand with a baffled air, and muttering, "I hate the fellow!" walked miserably off. Gilks called him back for a moment.

"I say," he said, "don't you be such a fool as to rile Silk, young un. He could make it precious awkward for you and me too if it came to a row. Take my advice and keep in with him."

Wyndham answered nothing, but went off moodily to Silk. "Ah, Wyndham," said the latter, cordially, as his young protege entered, "I was just wondering if you'd give me a look up."

"Gilks came and said you wanted me; that's why I came," said Wyndham.

"Awfully good of you," said Silk. "Of course I wanted you. The fact is, young un," said he, becoming a little mysterious, "there's rather an awkward thing turned up. I hope it won't come to anything, I'm sure, but it doesn't do to be too sure."

"What do you mean?" demanded Wyndham, looking alarmed. "I mean," said Silk, slowly, "that last time you took Gilks and me down to Beamish's—"

"I took you!" exclaimed Wyndham. "You took me—you made me go."

Silk laughed.

"Well, the last time we three went to Beamish's, if you like—the Saturday before the race; last Saturday, in fact—somebody saw us, or rather saw you."

"What!" cried Wyndham, turning pale. "Who was it?"

"It wouldn't do you any good to know," said Silk, "but it seems to be a fact."

"Who was it? a master or a monitor, or who?" asked the boy, anxiously.

"Neither. I don't fancy you know the fellow at all; I do, though."

Silk, as he concocted this lie, would probably have been as astonished as any one to discover that the escapade in question had really been witnessed by two boys from the box of the doctor's own fly!

"You know him?" said Wyndham. "Will he let out, do you think?"

"I can't say. I think I could prevent him," said Silk.

"Oh, please do," said the troubled boy, full of exaggerated terror at the consequences of detection.

"I'll see," said Silk, not very assuringly.

"What!" cried Wyndham. "You surely won't leave me in the lurch, Silk?"

Silk looked benevolently at his young friend.

"It depends," said he, coolly.

"Depends! On what? Oh, Silk, what do you mean?"

"Don't alarm yourself," said Silk, smiling. Then he added, confidentially, "The fact is, young un, I'm hard-up. I lost a lot of money on the race, owing to that—that is, because Parrett's lost. The thing is, can you lend me a couple of sovereigns, Wyndham?"

Wyndham's face clouded for a moment, but he replied quickly, "Yes, I can, Silk, if you'll promise to see it doesn't get out about last Saturday."

"Of course I will. You don't suppose I'm such a cad as all that."

"Oh, no," said Wyndham, looking more cheerful, and taking out his purse.

He drew from it a post-office order.

"It's for three pounds," he said. "I was going to change it to-morrow."

"Oh, I'll do that," said Silk. "I'm going into town early. You have signed it, I see. There'll be a sov. to give you out of it, won't there?"

"Yes, please; and the two pounds, and the ten shillings the other day," faltered the boy.

"You shall have them back, never fear," said Silk, pocketing the order.

Wyndham, in spite of this assurance, did fear considerably, as he returned with empty purse to his house.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE NEW CAPTAIN TURNED WELCHER.

Riddell, who probably felt the sting of the boat-race mishap more sensitively than any boy in Willoughby, was pacing the playground in a dispirited mood a morning or two after, when Dr Patrick suddenly confronted him.

"Ah, Riddell," said the latter, cheerily, "I'm glad I have met you. I want to have a talk. Let me see," said he, pulling out his watch, "there's hardly time now, though. Will you come and have tea with me this evening?"

Riddell turned pale at the bare suggestion, and would probably have invented some wild excuse to get off the dreaded honour had not the doctor continued, "I'm sorry Mrs Patrick and her sister are from home; they take a great interest in you, I can assure you."

"Oh, not at all," cried Riddell, whom the bare mention of those ladies' names was sufficient to confuse hopelessly.

"Come at seven o'clock, will you?" said the doctor, pleasantly, not noticing his head boy's perturbation.

Riddell continued his walk in a state of considerable perplexity. For some moments he could not get beyond the fact that Mrs Patrick and Miss Stringer were from home, and the relief of that reflection was unspeakable. But what could the doctor want him for? Was it to tell him he did not consider him equal to the duties of captain, and to relieve him of his office? Riddell devoutly wished it might be so. And yet he hardly fancied from the head master's manner this was to be the subject of their interview.

Perhaps it was to cross-examine him as to the boat-race. That wretched boat-race! Riddell had hardly had a minute's peace since that afternoon. The burden of the whole affair seemed to rest upon him. The taunts of the disappointed Parretts, which glanced harmless off minds like Fairbairn's and Porter's, wounded him to the quick, and, until the mystery should be solved, Riddell felt almost like a guilty party himself. He rather hoped the doctor did want to talk about this. It would be a relief to unburden his mind, at any rate. But even these troubles were slight compared with Riddell's concern about his old friend's brother. In spite of all his efforts young Wyndham was going wrong. He was getting more irregular in his visits to Riddell's study, and when he did come he was more reserved and secret, and less inclined to confide in his friend than before. It was easy to guess the reason, and Riddell felt baffled and dispirited as he thought about it. To save young Wyndham from his bad friends would be worth to him more even than to secure the order of Willoughby, or to discover the perpetrator of the boat-race outrage.

In this troubled state of mind Riddell passed the day till the time arrived for him to present himself at the doctor's.

He entered warily and suspiciously, as though not quite sure whether, after all, the two ladies might be lying in ambush somewhere for him. But no, there was no deception, only the doctor was there, and he, unrestrained by the presence of his usual bodyguard, was most friendly and cordial.

"Ah, Riddell, glad to see you. Sit down. You find me a bachelor, you see, for once in a way."

Riddell was soon at his ease. The doctor chatted pleasantly over their tea about various Willoughby topics, giving his opinion on some and asking the captain's opinion on others, and so delicately showing his sympathy for the boy in his difficulties and his approval of his efforts for the good of the school, that Riddell was quite won over, and prepared for the serious matter which the doctor presently broached. "Yes," said the latter, in reply to some reference by Riddell to the Welchers. "Yes, I am a good deal concerned about Welch's house, Riddell. I dare say you can understand why."

"I think so, sir. They don't seem to pull together there somehow, or have the sympathy with the good of the school."

"Precisely. That's just what it is," said the doctor, delighted to find his head boy so exactly understanding the nature of the house over which he was to be installed. "They seem to be 'each man for himself, and none for the State,' I fear."

"I think so," said Riddell. "They hold aloof from most of the school doings, unless there's a chance of a row. They had no boat on the river this year, and I don't think they will have a man in the eleven against Rockshire. And they seem to have no ambition to work for the school."

The doctor mused a bit, and then said, with a half-sigh, as if to himself, "And I wish that were the worst of it." Then turning to Riddell, he said, "I am glad to hear your opinion of Welch's house, Riddell, and to find that you seem to understand what is wrong there. What should you say to taking charge of that house in future?"

This was breaking the news suddenly, with a vengeance, and Riddell fairly gaped at the head master as he sat back in his chair, and wondered if he had heard aright.

"What, sir!" at length he gasped; "I take charge of Welch's!"

"Yes, my boy," said the doctor, quietly.

"Oh, I could never do it, sir!" exclaimed Riddell, pale at the very notion.

"Try," said the head master. "It may not be so impossible as you think."

"I'm not popular, sir," faltered Riddell, "and I've no influence. Indeed, it would only make things worse. Try some one else, sir. Try Fairbairn."

"I shall want Fairbairn to be the head of the schoolhouse," said the doctor.

"I'm sure it would be a mistake, sir," repeated Riddell. "If there was any chance of my succeeding I would try, but—"

"But," said the doctor, "you have not tried. Listen, Riddell; I know I am not inviting you to a bed of roses. It is a come-down, I know, for the captain of the school and the head of the schoolhouse to go down to Welch's, especially such a Welch's as ours is at present. But the post of danger, you know, is the post of honour. I leave it to you. You need not go unless you wish. I shall not think worse of you if you conscientiously feel you should not go. Think it over. Count all the cost. You have already made a position for yourself in the schoolhouse. You will have to quit that, of course, and start afresh and single- handed in the new house, and it is not likely that those who defy the rules of the school will take at first to a fellow who comes to enforce them. Think it all over, I say, and decide with open eyes."

The doctor's words had a strange inspiriting effect on this shy and diffident boy. The recital of all the difficulties in the way was the most powerful argument to a nature like his, and when at length the doctor wished him good-night and told him to take till the following day to decide, Riddell was already growing accustomed to the prospect of his new duty.

For all that, the day that ensued was anxious and troubled. Not so much on account of Welch's. On that point his mind was pretty nearly made up. It seemed a call of duty, and therefore it was a call of honour, which Riddell dare not disobey. But to leave the schoolhouse just now, when it lay under the reproach caused by the boat-race accident; and worse still, to leave it just when young Wyndham seemed to be drifting from his moorings and yielding with less and less effort to the temptations of bad companions—these were troubles compared with which the perils and difficulties of his new task were but light.

For a long time that night Riddell sat in his study and pondered over the doctor's offer, and looked at it in all its aspects, and counted up all the cost.

Then like a wise man he took counsel of a Friend. Ah! you say, he talked it over with Fairbairn, or Porter, or the acute Crossfield—or, perhaps, he wrote a letter to old Wyndham? No, reader, Riddell had a Friend at Willoughby dearer even than old Wyndham, and nearer than Fairbairn, or Porter, or Crossfield, and that night when all the school was asleep, little dreaming what its captain did, he went to that Friend and told Him all his difficulties about Welch's, and his anxieties about young Wyndham, and even his unhappiness about the boat-race; and in doing so found himself wonderfully cheered and ready to face the new duty, and even hopeful of success.

Next morning he went to the doctor and told him he was ready to enter on his new duties. Dr Patrick was not the man to flatter his head boy or to inspire him with undue hopes; but he was undoubtedly gratified by the decision, and Riddell felt encouraged in the consciousness of his sympathy.

At call-over that evening the Welchers had the pleasure of being informed by the doctor of the new arrangements proposed for their welfare, and, it need hardly be said, were considerably moved thereby.

At first they were disposed to regard the affair as a joke and a capital piece of fun. But when that evening Riddell put in an appearance at supper, in their house, and when Telson was intercepted bringing over his late master's goods and chattels to the study next but one to that of Silk, they began to take the matter in rather more seriously.

For the first time for a long while Welch's house seemed to be of one mind—a mind made up of equal mixtures of resentment and amazement and amusement. Probably, had they been more accustomed to thinking together, they would have summoned a monster meeting, as Parrett's would have done, to discuss the situation. As it was, they resolved themselves into several small groups, each of which dealt with the topic of the hour in its own way.

The juniors of course had a good deal to say on the subject. Pilbury, Cusack, Philpot, Morgan, and a few other kindred spirits held a council of war in the study of the two former immediately after supper.

"Rum start this, eh, Pil!" said Cusack, by way of opening proceedings.

"You know," said Pil, confidentially, "I'm not surprised. He made such a regular mess of it in the schoolhouse."

"Don't know what's the good of his coming here, then," said Philpot; "our fellows aren't a bit quieter than the schoolhouse."

No one was bold enough to dispute this peculiarly modest description of the order of Welch's house.

"I wonder if he's been kicked out of the captaincy as well?" asked Cusack, who was apparently convinced in his own mind that the new move was a degradation for Riddell.

"I don't know," said Morgan; "Paddy said something about it being a good thing for us to get the captain of the school as head of our house."

"Oh, ah—a jolly good thing," said Pilbury; "jolly lookout for us if he's stuck here to pull us up whenever we have a lark."

"Bless you, he can't pull a fellow up!" said somebody. "They said he used to now and then in the schoolhouse."

"Not he. He's afraid to look at a chap."

"I say," said Cusack, "rather a spree to fetch him, eh, you fellows, and see how he does. Eh?"

"I'm game," said Pilbury; "what shall we do? Smash in his study-door?"

"Oh, no," said Cusack, "no use doing that. Let's give him 'Bouncer' to start with."

"That ought to startle him up," said Philpot, laughing, "if he's not used to it."

"Rather—open the door a bit, Morgan. Now, you fellows, are you all game? All together."

And with that the party struck up at the top of their voices the famous old Willoughby chorus, of which the first verse runs as follows:

"Oh, Bouncer was a Willoughby chap, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! Upon his head he wore his cap, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! Below his cap he wore his head, His eyes were black and his hair was red, And he carried his bat for a cool hundred, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!"

This poetic record of the virtues and accomplishments of their legendary school hero gave ample scope, as the reader may surmise, for spirited declamation; and on the present occasion more Welchers than Riddell were startled by the sudden and vehement outburst of the patriotic hymn. Indeed, as it appeared to be a point of honour with the vocalists to pitch no two voices in the same key, the effect was even alarming, and suggested the sudden letting loose of a menagerie.

The singers waited meekly for a few seconds to see whether their efforts had met with the success they deserved. But as a dead silence reigned, and no one came, they considerately determined to give their audience another chance; and therefore launched forthwith into the second verse, which was delivered with even more dramatic power than the first:

"Old Bouncer stood six foot and an inch, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! And four foot round his chest was a pinch, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! Twelve stone two was his fighting weight, And he stroked our boat for the champion plate, And ran his mile in four thirty-eight, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!"

This time the heroic efforts of the melodious juniors had their reward. Before the last line was reached the door of the new captain's study opened, and Riddell appeared in the passage. His first appearance in his new capacity was naturally a matter of curiosity on every hand; and as he approached the scene of the noise he became aware that almost every occupant of the passage was standing at his door, watching curiously for what was to happen.

He certainly did not look, as he walked nervously down the corridor, the sort of fellow to quell a riot; and any one might have prophesied that he was not likely to come off any better now than he did when he once went on a similar errand to the stronghold of the Limpets.

And yet the weeks that had elapsed since then had not been thrown away on Riddell. Would the reader like to hear what his thoughts were as he neared the scene of his trial?

"What had I better do? If I get in a rage I shall only make a fool of myself; if I report them to the doctor I shall be shirking my own work; if I remonstrate mildly and do no more, my chances in Welch's are done for, and these fellows who are on the lookout for my failure will get their crow. I must get on the right side of these youngsters if I can, so here goes!"

With this reflection he reached the door just as the third verse of "Bouncer" commenced, the performers having carefully turned their backs so as to appear wholly unconscious of a visitor. Verse three referred altogether to the intellectual attainments of the wonderful Bouncer.

"Bouncer was the cock of the school, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! And Socrates to him was a fool, sir, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer! He could cross the 'asses' bridge in the dark, And 'Hic Haec Hoc' he thought a lark. And swallowed irregular verbs like a shark, Bouncer! Bouncer! Bouncer!"

Before this spirit-stirring recital had reached its climax one or two of the performers had found it impossible to resist a look round to see how the captain took it. So that the "surprise" at finding him standing there at its conclusion fell rather flat.

Much to the disappointment of the spectators outside, moreover, Riddell shut the door behind him. The juniors eyed him curiously. Contrary to their expectation, he neither looked frightened nor confused, but his face was as cheery as his voice as he said, "You see, I couldn't resist your beautiful music."

Was he in jest or earnest? Did he really mean he had enjoyed the chorus, or was he poking fun at them? They could not quite tell.

"Oh," said Cusack, not quite as defiantly, however, as he could have wished, "that's a song we sing among ourselves, isn't it, you fellows?"

"Ah!" said Riddell, before "the fellows" could chime in, "it's good fun belonging to a musical set—especially for songs like this, that appear to have several tunes all sung at once! You should give a concert."

The boys looked more perplexed than ever. It sounded like chaff, and yet they could scarcely believe it was. So they smiled vacantly at one another, and began to feel the situation a little awkward.

"I suppose," continued Riddell, feeling his way carefully—"I suppose between nine and ten is the usual time for singing in Welch's? I fancied it was before supper!"

"Oh!" said Pilbury, "we do as we like here."

"Do you, really?" replied the captain. "How jolly that must be!"

Cusack and Pilbury could hardly tell why they laughed at this very innocent observation, but they did, and Riddell was quick enough to see his advantage.

"You know, I'd be very sorry to interfere with the beautiful music," he said; "but do you think you could get to like not to sing after supper?"

The boys stared as if they were not quite sure yet how to take it. However, the captain made himself clear without further delay. "The fact is," said he, a trifle nervously, but in his friendliest tones—"the fact is—I don't know what you think, but I'd be awfully glad if you fellows would back me up for a week or two in Welch's. Of course, you know, the doctor's put me here, and I don't suppose you're much alarmed by the move, eh? You needn't be."

"We aren't," said Morgan, in a decidedly mild attempt at heroism.

"I'm glad of that," said the captain; whereat the rest of the company laughed at the unlucky Morgan, who had quite expected the joke to go the other way. "You know," continued Riddell, sitting upon the table and talking as familiarly as though he were in his own study, "I'd rather like if among us we could pull Welch's up a bit before the end of the term. It seems rather a shame, for instance, we didn't have a boat on the river these races, and that there's not a single Welcher in the first eleven."

"It's a beastly shame!" said Philpot. "Bloomfield's down on us, you know; he's got a spite against us."

"Oh! I don't know," said Riddell. "I fancy if we'd got some good enough men he'd be only too glad to put them in. After all, the glory of the school is the chief thing."

"Tucker and Silk will never practise," said Cusack. "I know I would if I'd got the chance."

"Well, I don't see why you shouldn't start the House Cricket Club this year, at any rate," said Riddell.

"That's just what Tucker and Silk won't do. We wanted them to do it, didn't we, Pil?"

"Rather!" said Pil; "and they told us to mind our own business."

"Suppose we start it ourselves?" suggested the captain; "I'm a Welcher now, you know. I don't see why, because Tucker and Silk object, the whole house should be done out of its cricket."

"No more do I," said Philpot.

"They'll kick up a jolly row with us, though," said Morgan.

"I don't think so," said Riddell. "At any rate, that's no reason why there shouldn't be a club."

"All serene!" said Cusack, warming up to the notion, and quite forgetting "Bouncer."

"I say, Riddell, couldn't we start it now?"

"Yes, certainly," said Riddell; "why not? I propose Cusack be the secretary."

"Oh, I say!" cried that youth, blushing, half with pleasure and half with embarrassment; "you'd better be that, Riddell."

"Oh, no," said Riddell, laughing, "I don't know the fellows so well as you. If you were secretary, and Pilbury or Philpot treasurer, I'd be president, or something of that sort, if you like."

The idea of the new club took like wildfire, and an enthusiastic consultation followed. It was resolved to summon a meeting next day of all who took an interest in the sport, and to arrange for a trial match at once. Riddell went as warmly into the details as any one, and took every opportunity of working up the patriotic spirit of his younger companions.

"You know," said he, "I don't see at all why we shouldn't be able to get together a team for the junior elevens if we practise hard."

"The nuisance is," said Cusack, "we're stopped an hour a day's play all this term."

"What for?" inquired the captain.

The melancholy story of Mr Parrett and the sulphuretted hydrogen was recounted.

"It's a pity," said he, gravely.

"I wonder if Paddy would mind giving us a licking instead," suggested Pilbury, whose hands were of the horny kind.

Even the others whose palms were less seasoned seemed willing to fall in with this alternative, but Riddell discouraged it.

"No," said he, "he's not likely to do that. But I tell you what I'll do. I'll see him and Parrett and tell them about the club, and undertake that you'll be steady the rest of the term if they'll let you off. Do you think I'd be safe in saying so?"

"Rather! I'll promise, for one," cried Cusack.

"And I'll try," said Pilbury.

"So will we," said the others.

So it was settled. And when next day Riddell in triumph was able to announce that the doctor and Mr Parrett had agreed to withdraw the prohibition, in consideration of the captain's promise on their behalf, great was the jubilation.

Greater still was Riddell's own satisfaction in feeling that he had at least made a good start towards getting on the right side of the juniors of his new house.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

"IS WILLOUGHBY DEGENERATE?"

As might be expected, the new captain's move in attempting to win over the juniors of Welch's only served to increase the irritation of those seniors who had hitherto reigned supreme in the house.

But Riddell had taken this into his calculation, and was therefore not greatly astonished when immediately after the enthusiastic cricket meeting just referred to, Silk followed him to his study in a by no means amiable frame of mind.

Silk was not given to losing his temper, but on the present occasion he was decidedly ruffled. And no wonder.

Any fellow would be ruffled who suddenly found himself deposed from his authority in the manner in which Silk had been. Had he been one of the most conscientious and painstaking of monitors, he might well have been excused flaring up a little, and, indeed, would have shown a poor spirit had he not done so.

But Silk, as the reader knows, was neither painstaking nor conscientious. He did not care a rap about Welch's, still less about Willoughby. As long as he could please himself and annoy his enemies, he did not care what became of his house or the boys in it. It was only when any one ventured to dispute his authority as head of the house that he attached any value to his office. In fact, it was the story of the Dog in the Manger carried out in school life—he would not be troubled doing his duty to Welch's, and he would not if he could help it let any one else do it for him.

Riddell, if truth must be told, was not at all sorry to have an early opportunity of coming to an explanation with Silk.

Silk was one of the very few boys in Willoughby whom the captain positively disliked, and that being so Riddell was troubled with none of the half-apologetic nervousness which he usually felt in the presence of his other fellow-seniors. He looked upon Silk both as an enemy to Willoughby and as the evil genius of young Wyndham, and therefore was by no means disposed to beg his pardon or consult his pleasure in the new order of things at Welch's.

"I hear the juniors have been saying something to you about starting the cricket club," said Silk, in tones which were the reverse of conciliatory.

"Yes," said Riddell; "or, rather, I suggested it to them."

"You did! All I can say is, it's like your impudence. Welch's is come to a pretty pass if you're sent here to look after our athletics."

Riddell did not feel called upon to reply to this, and Silk therefore continued, "Don't you know Tucker and I have been captains of the clubs here for the last two years?"

"I was told so."

"Then what business have you to interfere?"

"There was no house club at all this year."

"A lot you care about the cricket. I know well enough it's just a canting dodge for snubbing Tucker and me before the fellows, nothing more."

"You're quite mistaken," replied Riddell.

"Oh, of course! You'd like to make out that you care a fig about cricket. You who couldn't even bowl a ball from one end of the wickets to the other!"

There seemed nothing particular to reply to in this, so Riddell remained silent. This only irritated Silk the more, who felt that he was by no means getting the best of it.

"You'd better stop this sort of thing at once," he said, viciously. "You're sent here to look after the morals of the house, not to interfere with what doesn't concern you. Tucker and I can look after the cricket without you."

"Are you and Tucker going to start the old club again, then?" asked Riddell quietly.

"Whatever business of yours is it whether we are or aren't? Find out."

"That's what I'm trying to do. If you are, I'll advise the other fellows to join it and not have two clubs."

"You advise the fellows!" sneered Silk; "they don't want a schoolhouse prig like you to advise them."

It was evidently no use trying to conciliate a fellow like this, and Riddell began to get tired of the interview.

"I don't want to offend you or anybody," said he boldly; "but if you and Tucker won't take the trouble to start the club, I don't see that all the house is to be done out of their cricket in consequence. The fellows have little enough to keep them together as it is."

"You are a nice little thing to keep them together with, I must say," snarled Silk, "and you've made a good start by setting the juniors against their seniors."

"I've done nothing of the sort," replied Riddell, quietly; "and if you'll excuse me, I've some work to do, and there's really not much use talking on the subject."

So saying, he turned, and began taking his books down from the shelf.

Silk, whose irritation had been gradually getting beyond bounds, was pleased to regard this action as a direct insult to himself, and flared up accordingly.

"Look here, you snivelling, stuck-up, hypocritical prig, you!" exclaimed he, advancing and seizing the captain roughly by the arm, "we'd better come to an understanding at once. If you think you're going to cheek us just as you please here, you're mistaken, I tell you. What do you mean by it?"

"By what?" inquired Riddell, mildly, but quite composedly.

Silk's only reply was a passionate blow in the captain's face, which sent him staggering to the other side of the room.

It was a critical moment. Riddell was no coward, nor was he one of those sickly individuals who, not satisfied to be struck on one cheek only, invite a repetition of the assault on the other side. Physically weak and nervous as he was, he had sufficient British instinct to move him to stand up for himself.

And yet as he stood there a moment irresolute, it flashed across him that whatever the cost he must not enter upon a fight with Silk.

Of course he would be called a coward, and nothing he could say could prove he wasn't. He was no match for Silk, and consequently his refusal to defend himself would be called fear.

"And yet," thought he, "if I fight, my chance in Welch's is gone, even if I were able to beat him. The fellows will have no more respect for me than any other rowdy, and will soon enough make my thrashing an excuse for mutiny."

It was a hard position for any boy, and the courage required to hold him back cost Riddell more effort than had he blindly rushed into the fray and given himself up to be thrashed.

"Will you fight?" shouted Silk, advancing.

"No," said Riddell, as coolly as he could.

"Wretched coward!" exclaimed the bully, "of course you won't. Then take what you deserve. I'll give you the biggest hiding you ever had in your life."

He would probably have carried out his threat, and Riddell would probably before half a minute have given up all further idea of non- resistance, when an opportune diversion occurred in the person of Telson, who appeared with the remainder of his late senior's possessions from the schoolhouse.

"I say, Riddell," he exclaimed, almost before the door was open, "here's a jolly go! I've got to be that beast Gilks's fag, and— Hullo! what's up?"

This remark was caused by Silk's suddenly turning on his heel and hurrying from the study without putting into execution his threat.

"What was he up to?" asked Telson, as the door was shut. "He was going to exterminate me, so he said," replied Riddell, smiling.

"I wish he'd tried, and you'd given him a jolly licking," said Telson. "He's a cad. I wonder what young Wyndham or any one sees to like in him."

"Wyndham likes him, then?" asked the captain. "They always seem jolly thick," said the fag. "By the way, Riddell, were you ever at Beamish's?"

"Beamish's? No!" exclaimed Riddell. "Why?"

"Oh," said Telson, "I only wanted to know what sort of place it was."

"Not a good one. There's a pretty strong rule against it in the school. Bad job for any one caught going there."

"I know, I'm not going; I only wanted to know what sort of place it was. But I'm off, I've got a motion on in Parliament to-morrow. I say, Riddell, I wish you hadn't left the schoolhouse."

And off went the junior, leaving Riddell somewhat perplexed by his chatter, but considerably consoled nevertheless to think that there was any one in the schoolhouse, or anywhere, who was sorry to lose him.

However, the same reason which took Telson away left Riddell also little time to spend in vague reflections. He, too, had a speech to prepare for Parliament to-morrow.

The meeting promised to be an important one in many respects. It was the first after the boat-race, and consequently party feeling was likely to make use of the opportunity to let off a little of its steam. Then, of course, it was the captain's first public appearance as the head of Welch's, and that was sure to excite a good deal of curiosity and interest. And last, but not least, the subject for the evening was a debate on the question, "That Willoughby is Degenerate," to be opened in the affirmative by Ashley, and in the negative by Porter, and on this burning question the debate as well as the division promised to be pretty interesting.

There was the usual lively time before the regular business was reached over "Questions," of which there were a good many on the notice-paper. But it will be best to report the meeting in the usual Parliamentary style, as it would have appeared on the records of the House, had any record been kept at Willoughby:

Mr Bloomfield took the chair at three o'clock.

Mr Merrison (Welcher) gave notice that at the next meeting he would move—"That this House gives its support to the Liberal candidate in the coming election at Shellport, and does all in its power to kick out the Radical." (Loud cheers.)

Mr Pringle (Parrett's) asked the Home Secretary what day the summer holidays were to begin.

Mr Ashley replied that he was not in a position to inform the hon. member, but probably in about six weeks.

Mr Wyndham, jun. (schoolhouse), wished to ask why Parrett's would not row another race when the schoolhouse had offered it? (Great schoolhouse cheers.)

Mr Game (First Lord of the Admiralty), amid equally loud cheers on Parrett's side, replied that as soon as the schoolhouse found out who had been mean enough to cut the Parrett's rudder-line, and gave him up to justice, they would see about it.

Whereupon Mr Wibberly begged to ask the schoolhouse stroke whether he had any information to give the House on the subject.

Mr Fairbairn.—The information I have to give the House is that Mr Riddell and I, directly after the race, went to Mr Bloomfield and said we were sorry for the accident—(ironical laughter from Parrett's)—and offered to row them again any day they liked, and the offer was declined. (Schoolhouse cheers.)

Mr Tipper.—I should like to know if the schoolhouse fellows are making any efforts to discover the culprit by whose assistance they won the race. (Tremendous Parrett's cheers.)

Mr Fairbairn.—I can't say we are. (Derisive cheers of "Of course not!" from Parrett's.) The hon. gentlemen opposite seem to know so much about it, that I think they had better find the culprit themselves. ("Hear, hear," from the schoolhouse.)

The proceedings at this stage became rather noisy, every one being anxious to express his opinion on the question. It was not till after the President had threatened to "adjourn the House" that silence was at length restored.

Bloomfield took the sensible course, also, of announcing that, as quite enough questions had been asked about the race, he should not allow any more on that subject.

Whereupon Mr Tucker, the Welcher, rose and put a question on another matter. He wanted to know the reason why Mr Riddell had become a Welcher; whether it was true that he had been turned out of the schoolhouse for being incompetent; and whether he had been kicked out of the captaincy as well.

Mr Crossfield said he had been requested to reply. And first he must congratulate the hon. member on having succeeded in asking a question which any one could understand. (Laughter.)

In reply, he understood Mr Riddell had been sent to Welch's in order to study the virtues of a fellow called Tucker, who was—

Mr Tucker, rising: Mr Chairman, I didn't put my question in order to be insulted by Crossfield or any one. (Laughter.)

Mr Crossfield.—I apologise to the hon. gentleman. I will not insult him by supposing he has any virtues. I should say Mr Riddell has gone to take a few lessons in the art of keeping a house in order, which no one can so well teach him as Mr Tucker. (Loud laughter.) In reply to the gentleman's second question—

Mr Tucker.—I don't want any more. (Laughter.)

Mr Crossfield.—In reply to the gentleman's second question, I am sorry to inform him that his impressions are about as correct and intelligent as they usually are. (Renewed cheers and laughter, in the midst of which Tucker subsided in a state of mind hardly amiable.)

As soon as silence was restored, Mr Porter wished to ask the captain of the eleven whether the team to play against Rockshire was yet settled.

Mr Bloomfield.—Not quite. Nine names are fixed—Game, Tipper, Ashley, Wibberly, and myself from Parrett's house, and Fairbairn, Porter, Coates, and Crossfield from the schoolhouse. (Cheers and counter- cheers, and loud cries of "What about the Welchers?") What about the Welchers? That's what everybody wants to know! (Loud cheers.)

Hereupon Mr Cusack rose in his place and asked if the House was aware that the Welchers' cricket club was started again; that he was the secretary; and old Mr Pil the treasurer, and Mr Riddell the president, that the subscription was two shillings and sixpence in advance, and that— But here the enthusiastic secretary's announcement was drowned in the general laughter of the assembly, led by the Parrett's juniors, who roared as if they'd never heard such a joke in their lives. "Won't be a joke when we smash you in one innings," shouted Cusack, standing on his seat to give emphasis to the challenge. "Ho, ho! when's that to be?"

"When you like," cried the Welchers. "Do you funk it?"

"Unless those juniors there hold their row," interposed Bloomfield, "I shall have them turned out of the meeting." Whereat the little breeze calmed down.

The President then called upon Mr Ashley to move the resolution standing in his name, which he did in a rather feeble speech.

"I really don't think it necessary to say much to prove that the school is degenerate. Look at the clubs! They aren't nearly as good as they were in old Wyndham's time. Parrett's clubs, thanks to Mr Bloomfield, keep up; but where are the others? Then the rows. (Hear, hear.) I'm sure there have been more rows in the school this term than all the rest of the year put together. The juniors seem to do what they like,"—("Hear, hear," from Telson, Parson, and Co.)—"and no one seems to know who has a right to keep any one else in order. Now, why is all this? (Loud cheers from Bosher.) You know as well as I do. The captain of the school always used to be a fellow the boys could look up to. Old Wyndham and the captain before him were something like fellows. (Loud Parrett's cheers.) They weren't afraid to look any one in the face—(cheers)—and they didn't, when they got tired of one house—(cheers)—ask the doctor to move them to another. (Terrific applause from the Parrett's and Welchers.) Why, if this boat-race affair had happened in old Wyndham's time, do you suppose he wouldn't have made it right, and found out the fellow, even if it was his own brother? (Loud cheers, amidst which young Wyndham blushed a great deal at this unexpected piece of notoriety.) I'm not going to say any more." ("Hear, hear," from Fairbairn.)

Mr Porter rose to open the debate on the other side. He wasn't going to give in that Willoughby was going down. It was unpatriotic. (Cheers.) He meant to say if the school did go down it was the fellows' own fault, and not all to be blamed on one boy. Mr Riddell would probably answer for himself—(laughter)—but he (Mr Porter) was pretty sure the school would not degenerate under him. The fellows seemed to think the only thing in the world was brute strength. He had no objection to brute strength—(cheers and laughter)—in fact he fancied he had a little of his own—("Hear, hear," from Telson whose ears Porter had boxed only that morning)—but Willoughby wanted something better than that; and he meant to say there were plenty of fellows in the school who didn't make much noise, but who did as much to keep up the school as all the rowdies put together. And when things have quieted down, as he hoped they would, these fellows would get more thanks than they did now. (Cheers from a few, who apparently considered this last allusion referred specially to them.)

Porter was not a good speaker, and the little he did say was a good deal bungled. Still there was a manly ring about his speech which pleased the better disposed section of his audience, some of whom did not even belong to the same house.

Silk followed. The Welcher monitor was clever to a certain degree, and although he never chose to devote his cleverness to good purposes, he usually managed to get himself listened to when he chose to take the trouble. And at present, his peculiar position as the deposed head of Welch's gave a certain interest to what he had to say. Bitter enough it was.

"What chance is there of the school not going down, I should like to know," said he, "when cant is the order of the day? (Hear, hear.) Of course the school is going down. What interests can any one have in his house when some one comes and begins by setting the juniors against the seniors and then turning up the whites of his eyes and saying, 'What a shocking state of disorder the house is in?' Why, before 'the little stranger'—(loud laughter)—came to Welch's, the seniors and juniors never fell out," ("Hear, hear," from several quarters), "but now there's a regular mutiny. And what's bad for one house is bad for the school. I don't care who's head of Welch's. He's welcome to the honour if he likes, but let him act above-board, that's what I say, and not snivel and look pious while all the time he's doing a dirty trick." (Cheers from Tucker and one or two more, which, however, instantly died out when Crossfield rose.)

Crossfield was the plague of the senior Welchers' lives!

"I was much affected by the beautiful speech of the gentleman who has just sat down," he began. "It is always so sweet to hear conscious innocence asserting itself. After the gentleman's noble efforts for the good of his house (laughter)—and the splendid example he has set of rectitude—(laughter)—and high moral principle—(laughter)—it is truly touching to find him put on one side for an interloper who is villainous enough to tell the juniors they need not walk in his saintly footsteps! (Laughter.) But that is not what I wanted to say, and as the gentleman appears to be overcome by his emotions—(Silk was at that moment angrily leaving the room)—I don't think we need trouble any more about him. (Cheers and laughter.) All I wished to say was this: I always understood from the gentlemen of Parrett's that Mr Bloomfield was captain of Willoughby," (Loud cries of "So he is!"), "and that nobody cared a straw for Mr Riddell." ("No more they do!"). "Then, I don't think Mr Ashley is very complimentary to Mr Bloomfield when he says the fault of all the mischief is that the captain is not an all-round man. For all that he's quite correct. Mr Bloomfield is a well-meaning man, no doubt, but he certainly is not an all-round man." (Uproar.)