ay, sir?"

He stared at Mr Ebden as though the latter had had a hand in the prank.

"A complaint, Mr Workman? I don't understand," said Mr Ebden with
astonishment.

"Yes, you do, sir; yes, you do," the irate old gentleman shouted rudely.
"Why don't you look after your boys? I told you they were a nuisance,
and now they've played a trick on me and ruined my statue of Hercules."

When Mr Ebden had heard the full details of the prank he too was
extremely angry, or pretended to be so, and at once accompanied Mr
Workman to inspect the ruined statue. Then, with a heavy frown on his
usually pleasant face, he returned and summoned all the boys before him.
Mr Julius Workman was also present, and glowered round at them as
though he would like to do everyone some mischief.

"You've got to find out who did it, or there'll be trouble," he remarked
significantly to Mr Ebden, as the latter was about to speak.

Now, the boys at Ebden's were, naturally, unaware of the peculiar reason
their master had for keeping on good terms with "Old Bumble", but this
remark struck them as peculiar, and Phil, thinking it over, and being a
quick-witted lad, grasped its meaning, and determined at once to give
himself up.

"I'm the biggest fellow here," he thought, looking round at his
companions, "and though I'm not the eldest by some months, I'm usually
the leader in these scrapes."

"Boys," said Mr Ebden severely, scrutinising each one of them in turn,
and speaking slowly and distinctly, "a foolish and most objectionable
prank has been played upon one of the statues in the gardens. Mr
Workman declares that one of you is guilty. Is this so?"

"Of course it is," grunted "Old Bumble" angrily. "What's the good of
asking if they did it? Of course they did!"

Mr Ebden took no notice of the interruption, but looked at his pupils,
who stared guiltily at one another, knowing well that each had been a
party to the plot, and yet waiting for one to give the lead before the
others acknowledged.

Phil stepped forward in front of his comrades, and with upright head,
and eyes fixed straight on Mr Ebden's, said:

"Yes, sir, it is so. I tarred and feathered the statue, and I'm sorry
Old B--Mr Workman--is so angry."

"Old B! What did the scamp almost call me?" shouted Mr Workman,
working himself into another rage. "You are a scamp, sir, and a
disgrace to the school!"

"I am sorry, sir," Phil said again. "I did it for a joke only, and now
I'l