t Mother Yeo
should return inopportunely, for Mary's face was set. It was then that
Tulke found his way blocked by a tall daughter of Devon--that county of
easy kisses, the pleasantest under the sun. He dodged aside politely.
She reflected a moment, and laid a vast hand upon his shoulder.

"Where be 'ee gwaine tu, my dearr?" said she.

Over the handkerchief he had crammed into his mouth Stalky could see the
boy turn scarlet.

"Gie I a kiss! Don't they larn 'ee manners to College?"

Tulke gasped and wheeled. Solemnly and conscientiously Mary kissed him
twice, and the luckless prefect fled.

She stepped into the shop, her eyes full of simple wonder. "Kissed 'un?"
said Stalky, handing over the money.

"Iss, fai! But, oh, my little body, he'm no Colleger. 'Zeemed tu-minded
to cry, like."

"Well, we won't. Yell couldn't make us cry that way," said McTurk.
"Try."

Whereupon Mary cuffed them all round.

As they went out with tingling ears, said Stalky generally, "Don't think
there'll be much of a prefects' meeting."

"Won't there, just!" said Beetle. "Look here. If he kissed her--which
is our tack--he is a cynically immoral hog, and his conduct is blatant
indecency. _Confer orationes Regis furiosissimi_, when he collared me
readin' 'Don Juan.'"

"'Course he kissed her," said McTurk. "In the middle of the street. With
his house-cap on!"

"Time, 3.57 p.m. Make a note o' that. What d'you mean, Beetle?" said
Stalky.

"Well! He's a truthful little beast. He may say he was kissed."

"And then?"

"Why, then!" Beetle capered at the mere thought of it. "Don't you see?
The corollary to the giddy proposition is that the Sixth can't protect
'emselves from outrages an' ravishin's. Want nursemaids to look after
'em! We've only got to whisper that to the Coll. Jam for the Sixth! Jam
for us! Either way it's jammy!"

"By Gum!" said Stalky. "Our last term's endin' well. Now you cut along
an' finish up your old rag, and Turkey and me will help. We'll go in the
back way. No need to bother Randall."

"Don't play the giddy garden-goat, then?" Beetle knew what help meant,
though he was by no means averse to showing his importance before his
allies. The little loft behind Randall's printing office was his own
territory, where he saw himself already controlling the "Times." Here,
under the guidance of the inky apprentice, he had learned to find his
way more or less circuitously about the case, and considered himself an
expert c