ing goes up to the prefects it may make another
house-row. You've had one already. Don't laugh. Listen to me. I ask
you--my own Tenth Legion--to take the thing up quietly. I want little
Clewer made to look fairly clean and decent--"

"Blowed if _I_ wash him!" whispered Stalky.

"Decent and self-respecting. As for the other boy, whoever he is,
you can use your influence"--a purely secular light flickered in the
chaplain's eye--"in any way you please to--to dissuade him. That's all.
I'll leave it to you. Good-night, _mes enfants_."

"Well, what are we goin' to do?" Number Five stared at each other.

"Young Clewer would give his eyes for a place to be quiet in. _I_ know
that," said Beetle. "If we made him a study-fag, eh?"

"No!" said McTurk firmly. "He's a dirty little brute, and he'd mess up
everything. Besides, we ain't goin' to have any beastly Erickin'. D'you
want to walk about with your arm round his neck?"

"He'd clean out the jam-pots, anyhow; an' the burnt-porridge
saucepan--it's filthy now."

"Not good enough," said Stalky, bringing up both heels with a crash on
the table. "If we find the merry jester who's been bullyin' him an' make
him happy, that'll be all right. Why didn't we spot him when we were in
the form-rooms, though?"

"Maybe a lot of fags have made a dead set at Clewer. They do that
sometimes."

"Then we'll have to kick the whole of the lower school in our house--on
spec. Come on," said McTurk.

"Keep your hair on! We mustn't make a fuss about the biznai. Whoever
it is he's kept quiet or we'd have seen him," said Stalky. "We'll walk
round and sniff about till we're sure."

They drew the house form-rooms, accounting for every junior and senior
against whom they had suspicions; investigated, at Beetle's suggestion,
the lavatories and box-rooms, but without result. Everybody seemed to be
present save Clewer.

"Rum!" said Stalky, pausing outside a study door. "Golly!"

A thin piping mixed with tears came muffled through the panels.

"'As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping--'"

"Louder, you young devil, or I'll buzz a book at you!"

"'With a pitcher of milk--'
Oh, Campbell, _please_ don't!
'To the fair of--"

A book crashed on something soft, and squeals arose.

"Well, I never thought it was a study-chap, anyhow. That accounts for
our not spotting him," said Beetle. "Sefton and Campbell are rather
hefty chaps to tackle. Besides, one can't go into their study like a
for