ranged to sit on one another's laps, so as to bring the
company finally down to the capabilities of the table. But at this
juncture Stafford, who had grown tired of waiting, and evidently saw
little prospect of conviviality in the entertainment, remembered that he
had some work to do before morning school, and rose to leave.

"Why, we've not begun yet," gasped his hosts.

"I really must go. Thanks for asking me. I've enjoyed it so much,"
said the amiable prefect, departing.

"Look here, I say," expostulated Arthur, "you might stay. I'll get some
eggs, or a herring, if you'll stop."

But the guest of the morning was beyond reach of these blandishments,
and with muttered reflections on human depravity generally, the hosts
took a seat at each end of the festive board, and bade the four Fifth-
form fellows fall to.

They had already done so. One had cut the loaf, another had meted out
the jam, another had poured out the coffee, and another had distributed
the butter.

"Have some coffee?" said Wake, pleasantly, to Dig; "very good stuff."

"Thanks," said Dig, trying to look grateful. "I'll wait till there's a
cup to spare."

"If you're putting on the eggs," said Ranger, confidentially, to Arthur,
"keep mine on an extra fifteen seconds, please. I like them a little
hardish."

"Awfully sorry," said Arthur, with a quaver in his voice; "jolly
unlucky, but we're out of eggs. Got none in the place."

"Oh, never mind," said Ranger, reassuringly. "The herrings will do
quite as well. Stafford may not fancy them, but we do, don't we, you
chaps?"

"Rather," said Sheriff, thoughtfully scooping out the last remnants of
the jam from the pot.

Arthur looked at the baronet and the baronet looked at Arthur. Things
were growing desperate, and at all risks a diversion must be made. What
could they do? Dig had a vague idea of creating a scare that Smiley had
gone mad; but as the animal in question was at that moment peacefully
reposing on the hearth, there seemed little probability of this panic
"taking." Then he calculated the possibilities of secretly cutting away
one leg of the table, and so covering the defects of the meal by an
unavoidable catastrophe. But he had not his penknife about him, and the
two table-knives were in use.

Arthur at this point came gallantly and desperately to the rescue.

"I say, you fellows," began he, ignoring the hint about the herrings,
"do you want to know a regular lark?"

"Ha