f the house--"

"They lowered it in a week. I have striven to build it up for years.
My own house-prefects--and boys do not willingly complain of each
other--besought me to get rid of them. You say you have their
confidence, Gillett: they may tell you another tale. As far as I am
concerned, they may go to the devil in their own way. I'm sick and tired
of them," said Prout bitterly.

But it was the Reverend John, with a smiling countenance, who went to
the devil just after Number Five had cleared away a very pleasant little
brew (it cost them two and fourpence) and was settling down to prep.

"Come in, Padre, come in," said Stalky, thrusting forward the best
chair. "We've only met you official-like these last ten days."

"You were under sentence," said the Reverend John. "I do not consort
with malefactors."

"Ah, but we're restored again," said McTurk. "Mr. Prout has relented."

"Without a stain on our characters," said Beetle. "It was a painful
episode, Padre, most painful."

"Now, consider for a while, and perpend, _mes enfants_. It is about
your characters that I've called to-night. In the language of the
schools, what the dooce _have_ you been up to in Mr. Prout's house? It
isn't anything to laugh over. He says that you so lowered the tone of
the house he had to pack you back to your studies. Is that true?"

"Every word of it, Padre."

"Don't be flippant, Turkey. Listen to me. I've told you very often that
no boys in the school have a greater influence for good or evil than
you have. You know I don't talk about ethics and moral codes, because I
don't believe that the young of the human animal realizes what they mean
for some years to come. All the same, I don't want to think you've been
perverting the juniors. Don't interrupt, Beetle. Listen to me. Mr. Prout
has a notion that you have been corrupting your associates somehow or
other."

"Mr. Prout has so many notions, Padre," said Beetle wearily. "Which one
is this?"

"Well, he tells me that he heard you telling a story in the twilight in
the form-room, in a whisper. And Orrin said, just as he opened the door,
'Shut up, Beetle; it's too beastly.' Now then?"

"You remember Mrs. Oliphant's 'Beleaguered City' that you lent me last
term?" said. Beetle.

The Padre nodded.

"I got the notion out of that. Only, instead of a city, I made it the
Coll. in a fog--besieged by ghosts of dead boys, who hauled chaps out of
their beds in the dormitory. All the name