reluctance of one who foresees an
unpleasant public duty. "I suppose I must go and talk to the Sixth
again."

"Not the least need, my dear chap, I assure you," said Naughten hastily.
"I'll take any message you care to send."

But the chance of supplying the missing adjective was too tempting. So
Naughten returned to that still undissolved meeting, Beetle, white, icy,
and aloof, at his heels.

"There seems," he began, with laboriously crisp articulation, "there
seems to be a certain amount of uneasiness among you as to the steps
we may think fit to take in regard to this last revelation of
the--ah--obscene. If it is any consolation to you to know that we have
decided--for the honor of the school, you understand--to keep our mouths
shut as to these--ah--obscenities, you--ah--have it."

He wheeled, his head among the stars, and strode statelily back to his
study, where Stalky and McTurk lay side by side upon the table wiping
their tearful eyes--too weak to move.

The Latin prose paper was a success beyond their wildest dreams.
Stalky and McTurk were, of course, out of all examinations (they did
extra-tuition with the Head), but Beetle attended with zeal.

"This, I presume, is a par-ergon on your part," said King, as he dealt
out the papers. "One final exhibition ere you are translated to loftier
spheres? A last attack on the classics? It seems to confound you
already."

Beetle studied the print with knit brows. "I can't make head or tail of
it," he murmured. "What does it mean?"

"No, no!" said King, with scholastic coquetry. "We depend upon you
to give us the meaning. This is an examination, Beetle mine, not a
guessing-competition. You will find your associates have no difficulty
in--"

Tulke left his place and laid the paper on the desk. King looked, read,
and turned a ghastly green.

"Stalky's missing a heap," thought Beetle. "Wonder hew King'll get out
of it!"

"There seems," King began with a gulp, "a certain modicum of truth
in our Beetle's remark. I am--er--inclined to believe that the worthy
Randall must have dropped this in ferule--if you know what that means.
Beetle, you purport to be an editor. Perhaps you can enlighten the form
as to formes."

"What, sir! Whose form! I don't see that there's any verb in this
sentence at all, an'--an'--the Ode is all different, somehow."

"I was about to say, before you volunteered your criticism, that an
accident must have befallen the paper in type, and tha