t the printer
reset it by the light of nature. No--" he held the thing at arm's
length--"our Randall is not an authority on Cicero or Horace."

"Rather mean to shove it off on Randall," whispered Beetle to his
neighbor. "King must ha' been as screwed as an owl when he wrote it
out."

"But we can amend the error by dictating it."

"No, sir." The answer came pat from a dozen throats at once. "That cuts
the time for the exam. Only two hours allowed, sir. 'Tisn't fair. It's
a printed-paper exam. How're we goin' to be marked for it! It's all
Randall's fault. It isn't our fault, anyhow. An exam.'s an exam.," etc.,
etc.

Naturally Mr. King considered this was an attempt to undermine his
authority, and, instead of beginning dictation at once, delivered a
lecture on the spirit in which examinations should be approached. As the
storm subsided, Beetle fanned it afresh.

"Eh? What? What was that you were saying to MacLagan?"

"I only said I thought the papers ought to have been looked at before
they were given out, sir."

"Hear, hear!" from a back bench. Mr. King wished to know whether Beetle
took it upon himself personally to conduct the traditions of the school.
His zeal for knowledge ate up another fifteen minutes, during which the
prefects showed unmistakable signs of boredom.

"Oh, it was a giddy time," said Beetle, afterwards, in dismantled Number
Five. "He gibbered a bit, and I kept him on the gibber, and then he
dictated about a half of Dolabella & Co."

"Good old Dolabella! Friend of mine. Yes?" said Stalky, pensively.

"Then we had to ask him how every other word was spelt, of course, and
he gibbered a lot more. He cursed me and MacLagan (Mac played up like a
trump) and Randall, and the 'materialized ignorance of the unscholarly
middle classes,' 'lust for mere marks,' and all the rest. It was what
you might call a final exhibition--a last attack--a giddy par-ergon."

"But o' course he was blind squiffy when he wrote the paper. I hope you
explained that?" said Stalky.

"Oh, yes. I told Tulke so. I said an immoral prefect an' a drunken
house-master were legitimate inferences. Tulke nearly blubbed. He's
awfully shy of us since Mary's time."

Tulke preserved that modesty till the last moment--till the
journey-money had been paid, and the boys were filling the brakes that
took them to the station. Then the three tenderly constrained him to
wait a while.

"You see, Tulke, you may be a prefect," said Stalky, "b