chaps mean to say you didn't make Rabbits-Eggs drunk and bribe
him to rock King's rooms?"

"Bribe him? No, that I'll swear we didn't," said Stalky, with a relieved
heart, for he loved not to tell lies. "What a low mind you've got,
Pussy! We've been down having a bath. Did Rabbits-Eggs rock King?
Strong, perseverin' man King? Shockin'!"

"Awf'ly. King's frothing at the mouth. There's bell for prayers. Come
on."

"Wait a sec," said Stalky, continuing the conversation in a loud and
cheerful voice, as they descended the stairs. "What did Rabbits-Eggs
rock King for?"

"I know," said Beetle, as they passed King's open door. "I was in his
study."

"Hush, you ass!" hissed the Emperor of China. "Oh, he's gone down to
prayers," said Beetle, watching the shadow of the house-master on the
wall. "Rabbits-Eggs was only a bit drunk, swearin' at his horse, and
King jawed him through the window, and then, of course, he rocked King."

"Do you mean to say," said Stalky, "that King began it?"

King was behind them, and every well-weighed word went up the staircase
like an arrow. "I can only swear," said Beetle, "that King cursed like a
bargee. Simply disgustin'. I'm goin' to write to my father about it."

"Better report it to Mason," suggested Stalky. "He knows our tender
consciences. Hold on a shake. I've got to tie my boot-lace."

The other study hurried forward. They did not wish to be dragged into
stage asides of this nature. So it was left to McTurk to sum up the
situation beneath the guns of the enemy.

"You see," said the Irishman, hanging on the banister, "he begins by
bullying little chaps; then he bullies the big chaps; then he bullies
some one who isn't connected with the College, and then catches it.
Serves him jolly well right... I beg your pardon, sir. I didn't see you
were coming down the staircase."

The black gown tore past like a thunder-storm, and in its wake, three
abreast, arms linked, the Aladdin company rolled up the big corridor to
prayers, singing with most innocent intention:

"Arrah, Patsy, mind the baby! Arrah, Patsy, mind the child!
Wrap him up in an overcoat, he's surely goin' wild!
Arrah, Patsy, mind the baby; just ye mind the child awhile!
He'll kick an' bite an' cry all night! Arrah, Patsy, mind
the child!"

AN UNSAVORY INTERLUDE.

It was a maiden aunt of Stalky who sent him both books, with the
inscription, "To dearest Artie, on his sixteenth birthday;" it was
M