think we'd better not go."

Ainger laughed rather spitefully.

"It strikes me he'll find us four fairly tough flies. I mean to go. I
want to see what he's like; I'm not at all sure that I like him."

"Poor beggar!" murmured Barnworth. "Now my doubt is whether he likes
me. He ought to, oughtn't he, Staff?"

"Why, yes!" replied that amiable youth; "he doesn't look as if he was
very particular."

"Oh, thanks, awfully!" replied Barnworth.

The amiable coloured up more than ever.

"I really didn't mean that," he said, horrified at his unconscious joke.
"I mean he doesn't seem strict, or as if he'd be hard to get on with."

"I hope he's not," said Ainger, with a frown. "We had enough of that
with Moss."

"Well," said Felgate, "if you are going, I suppose I must come too; only
take my advice, and don't promise him too much."

Railsford meanwhile had transacted a good deal of business of a small
kind on his own account. He had quelled a small riot in the junior
preparation room, and intercepted one or two deserters in the act of
quitting the house after hours. He had also gone up to inspect the
dormitories, lavatories, and other domestic offices; and on his way down
he had made glad the hearts of his coming kinsman and the baronet by a
surprise visit in their study. He found them actively unpacking a few
home treasures, including a small hamper full of ham, a pistol, some
boxing-gloves, and a particularly fiendish-looking bull-dog. The last-
named luxury was the baronet's contribution to the common store, and,
having been forgotten for some hours in the bustle of arrival, was now
removed from his bandbox in a semi-comatose state.

"Hullo!" said Railsford, whose arrival coincided with the unpacking of
this natural history curiosity, "what have you got there?"

Oakshott's impulse, on hearing this challenge, had been to huddle his
unhappy booty back into the bandbox; but, on second thoughts, he set it
down on the mat, and gazing at it attentively, so as not to commit
himself to a too hasty opinion, observed submissively that it was a dog.

It is melancholy to have to record failure, in whatever sphere or form;
but truth compels us to state that at this particular moment Mark
Railsford blundered grievously. Instead of deciding definitely there
and then on his own authority whether dogs were or were not _en regle_
in Railsford's house, he halted and hesitated.

"That's against rules, isn't it?" said he.