out for ways of doing the thing really well. I emptied
about six jugs of water on a gang of kids under my window."

"I rushed into Downing's, and ragged some of the beds," said Robinson.

"It was an invigorating time," said Psmith. "A sort of pageant. I was
particularly struck with the way some of the bright lads caught hold of
the idea. There was no skimping. Some of the kids, to my certain
knowledge, went down the chute a dozen times. There's nothing like doing
a thing thoroughly. I saw them come down, rush upstairs, and be saved
again, time after time. The thing became chronic with them. I should say
Comrade Downing ought to be satisfied with the high state of efficiency
to which he has brought us. At any rate I hope--"

There was a sound of hurried footsteps outside the door, and Sharpe, a
member of the senior day room, burst excitedly in. He seemed amused.

"I say, have you chaps seen Sammy?"

"Seen who?" said Stone. "Sammy? Why?"

"You'll know in a second. He's just outside. Here, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy!
Sam! Sam!"

A bark and a patter of feet outside.

"Come on, Sammy. Good dog."

There was a moment's silence. Then a great yell of laughter burst forth.
Even Psmith's massive calm was shattered. As for Jellicoe, he sobbed
in a corner.

Sammy's beautiful white coat was almost entirely concealed by a thick
covering of bright-red paint. His head, with the exception of the ears,
was untouched, and his serious, friendly eyes seemed to emphasise the
weirdness of his appearance. He stood in the doorway, barking and
wagging his tail, plainly puzzled at his reception. He was a popular
dog, and was always well received when he visited any of the houses, but
he had never before met with enthusiasm like this.

"Good old Sammy!"

"What on earth's been happening to him?"

"Who did it?"

Sharpe, the introducer, had no views on the matter.

"I found him outside Downing's, with a crowd round him. Everybody seems
to have seen him. I wonder who on earth has gone and mucked him up
like that!"

Mike was the first to show any sympathy for the maltreated animal.

"Poor old Sammy," he said, kneeling on the floor beside the victim, and
scratching him under the ear. "What a beastly shame! It'll take hours to
wash all that off him, and he'll hate it."

"It seems to me," said Psmith, regarding Sammy dispassionately through
his eyeglass, "that it's not a case for mere washing. They'll either
have to skin him bodily, or leav