l possible horizons. "Bearin' up, old man? That's right. Live it down!
Live it down!"

"What d'you mean?"

"You look a little pensive," said McTurk. "Exhaustin' job superintendin'
the honor of the house, ain't it? By the way, how are you off for
mares'-nests?"

"Look here," said Harrison, hoping for instant reward. "We've
recommended Prout to let you go back to your study."

"The dooce you have! And who under the sun are _you_ to interfere
between us and our house-master? Upon my Sam, you two try us very
hard--you do, indeed. Of course we don't know how far you abuse your
position to prejudice us with Mr. Prout; but when you deliberately
stop me to tell me you've been makin' arrangements behind our back--in
secret--with Prout--I--I don't know really what we ought to do."

"That's beastly unfair!" cried Craye.

"It is." McTurk had adopted a ghastly solemnity that sat well on his
long, lean face. "Hang it all! A prefect's one thing and an usher's
another; but you seem to combine 'em. You recommend this--you recommend
that! _You_ say how and when we go back to our study!"

"But--but--we thought you'd like it, Turkey. We did, indeed. You know
you'll be ever so much more comfortable there." Harrison's voice was
almost tearful.

McTurk turned away as though to hide his emotions.

"They're broke!" He hunted up Stalky and Beetle in a box-room. "They're
sick! They've been beggin' Heffy to let us go back to Number Five. Poor
devils! Poor little devils!"

"It's the olive branch," was Stalky's comment. "It's the giddy white
flag, by gum! Come to think of it, we _have_ metagrobolized 'em."

Just after tea that day, Mr. Prout sent for them to say that if they
chose to ruin their future by neglecting their work, it was entirely
their own affair. He wished them, however, to understand that their
presence in the form-rooms could not be tolerated one hour longer.
He personally did not care to think of the time he must spend in
eliminating the traces of their evil influences. How far Beetle had
pandered to the baser side of youthful imagination he would ascertain
later; and Beetle might be sure that if Mr. Prout came across any
soul-corrupting consequences--

"Consequences of what, sir?" said Beetle, genuinely bewildered this
time; and McTurk quietly kicked him on the ankle for being "fetched"
by Prout. Beetle, the house-master continued, knew very well what was
intended. Evil and brief had been their careers under his eye