We hope you know before you go
That we all wish you well."

"Rippin'! Rippin'! Now for the Widow's scene with the Princess. Hurry
up, Turkey."

McTurk, in a violet silk skirt and a coquettish blue turban, slouched
forward as one thoroughly ashamed of himself. The Slave of the Lamp
climbed down from the piano, and dispassionately kicked him. "Play up,
Turkey," he said; "this is serious." But there fell on the door the
knock of authority. It happened to be King, in gown and mortar-board,
enjoying a Saturday evening prowl before dinner.

"Locked doors! Locked doors!" he snapped with a scowl. "What's the
meaning of this; and what, may I ask, is the intention of this--this
epicene attire?"

"Pantomime, sir. The Head gave us leave," said Abanazar, as the only
member of the Sixth concerned. Dick Four stood firm in the confidence
born of well-fitting tights, but Beetle strove to efface himself behind
the piano. A gray princess-skirt borrowed from a day-boy's mother and a
spotted cotton bodice unsystematically padded with imposition-paper make
one ridiculous. And in other regards Beetle had a bad conscience.

"As usual!" sneered King. "Futile foolery just when your careers, such
as they may be, are hanging in the balance. I see! Ah, I see! The old
gang of criminals--allied forces of disorder--Corkran"--the Slave of the
Lamp smiled politely--"McTurk"--the Irishman scowled--"and, of course,
the unspeakable Beetle, our friend Gigadibs." Abanazar, the Emperor, and
Aladdin had more or less of characters, and King passed them over. "Come
forth, my inky buffoon, from behind yonder instrument of music! You
supply, I presume, the doggerel for this entertainment. Esteem yourself
to be, as it were, a poet?"

"He's found one of 'em," thought Beetle, noting the flush on King's
cheek-bone.

"I have just had the pleasure of reading an effusion of yours to my
address, I believe--an effusion intended to rhyme. So--so you despise
me, Master Gigadibs, do you? I am quite aware--you need not
explain--that it was ostensibly not intended for my edification. I read
it with laughter--yes, with laughter. These paper pellets of inky
boys--still a boy we are, Master Gigadibs--do not disturb my equanimity."

"Wonder which it was," thought Beetle. He had launched many lampoons on
an appreciative public ever since he discovered that it was possible to
convey reproof in rhyme.

In sign of his unruffled calm, King proceeded to tear Beetle, whom he