any poignant offense. But the mere
adumbration of an odor is enough for the sensitive nose and clean tongue
of youth. Decency demands that we draw several carbolized sheets over
what the dormitory said to Mr. King and what Mr. King replied. He was
genuinely proud of his house and fastidious in all that concerned their
well-being. He came; he sniffed; he said things. Next morning a boy in
that dormitory confided to his bosom friend, a fag of Macrea's, that
there was trouble in their midst which King would fain keep secret.

But Macrea's boy had also a bosom friend in Prout's, a shock-headed
fag of malignant disposition, who, when he had wormed out the secret,
told--told it in a high-pitched treble that rang along the corridor like
a bat's squeak.

"An'--an' they've been calling us 'stinkers' all this week. Why, Harland
minor says they simply can't sleep in his dormitory for the stink. Come
on!"

"With one shout and with one cry" Prout's juniors hurled themselves into
the war, and through the interval between first and second lesson some
fifty twelve-year-olds were embroiled on the gravel outside King's
windows to a tune whose _leit-motif_ was the word "stinker."

"Hark to the minute-gun at sea!" said Stalky. They were in their study
collecting books for second lesson--Latin, with King. "I thought his
azure brow was a bit cloudy at prayers. 'She is comin', sister Mary. She
is--'"

"If they make such a row now, what will they do when she really begins
to look up an' take notice?"

"Well, no vulgar repartee, Beetle. All we want is to keep out of this
row like gentlemen."

"'Tis but a little faded flower.' Where's my Horace? Look here, I don't
understand what she means by stinkin' out Rattray's dormitory first. We
holed in under White's, didn't we?" asked McTurk, with a wrinkled brow.

"Skittish little thing. She's rompin' about all over the place, I
suppose."

"My Aunt! King'll be a cheerful customer at second lesson. I haven't
prepared my Horace one little bit, either," said Beetle. "Come on!"

They were outside the form-room door now. It was within five minutes of
the bell, and King might arrive at any moment.

Turkey elbowed into a cohort of scuffling fags, cut out Thornton tertius
(he that had been Harland's bosom friend), and bade him tell his tale.

It was a simple one, interrupted by tears. Many of King's house trod
already battered him for libel.

"Oh, it's nothing," McTurk cried. "He says that King'