and the
preparations were in a very forward state when the sad interruption
occasioned by Mr Rastle's brutal conduct took place. But if Mr Rastle
thought he was going to extinguish the "Vocal, Instrumental, and
Dramatic Entertainment" he was woefully mistaken.

As soon as ever, by superhuman exertions, Bramble and a few others of
the "potted" ones had struggled through their Euclid, and served their
term of detention, an evening was fixed upon for the great event to come
off.

Immediately a question arose. Should the public be admitted?

"Rather!" exclaimed Bramble, the treasurer, "five bob each."

"Masters half price," suggested Padger.

"Greenfield senior free!" shouted the loyal Paul.

"Bah! do you think Greenfield senior would come to hear you spout, you
young muff!" roared the amiable Bramble.

"I know what he would come for," retorted Paul, "and I'd come with him
too. Guess!"

"Shan't guess. Shall I, Padger?"

"May as well," suggested Padger.

"He'd come," cried Paul, not waiting for the Tadpole to guess--"he'd
come a mile to see you hung. So would I--there!"

It was some time before the meeting got back to the subject of admitting
the public. But it was finally agreed that, though the public were not
to be invited, the door should be left open, and any one ("presenting
his card," young Bilbury suggested) might come in, with the exception of
Loman, Mr Rastle, Tom Braddy, and the school cat.

For the next few days the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles were busy, learning
their parts, practising their songs, arranging all the details of their
dramatic performance, and so on; and Mr Rastle had to "pot" one or two
more of them, and detain one or two others, before he could get anything
like the ordinary work of the class done. All this the young vocal,
instrumental, and dramatic enthusiasts bore patiently, devoting so many
extra ounces of dynamite to Mr Rastle's promised blow-up for each
offence.

At last the festival day arrived. Stephen, on whom, somehow, all the
work had devolved, while the talking and discussion of knotty points had
fallen on his two brother officers, looked quite pale and anxious on the
eventful morning.

"Well, young 'un," said Oliver, "I suppose Wray and I are to be allowed
to come and see the fun to-night."

"Yes," said Stephen, with considerable misgivings about the "fun."

"All serene; we'll be there, won't we, Wray? Not the first Guinea-pig
kick-up we've been witness to