uthouse boycott. The Chief was very
tactful, and, moreover, he had enjoyed reading the play immensely.
Besides, it would not have done any good if he had made a fuss,
especially when he was entirely in sympathy with Betteridge.

In _The Fernhurst School Magazine_, which was edited by Betteridge,
there appeared the following paragraph:--

"On Saturday, 5th March, before a record and appreciative
audience, the Stoics read _The Younger Generation_, by Stanley
Houghton. There was no one who failed to realise the
extraordinary insight into the life of the day that made such a
work possible. The enthusiasm and applause were highly
significant, as showing what a keen interest the school is
taking in all questions of social and domestic life. There were
rather fewer representatives from the outhouses than usual, but
this was as well, as there would have been little room for
them."

The victory of Christy was not so very complete after all.

With this successful demonstration Gordon's excitement in House politics
abated.

CHAPTER VIII: THE DAWNING OF MANY DREAMS

The Three Cock came and went, bringing with it House caps for Lovelace,
Collins and Fletcher, but it caused little stir. Everyone had foreseen
the result, and without Hazelton (ill with mumps) the House stood little
chance of keeping the score under fifty. Hostilities were declared
closed for the time being. The four weeks of training for the sports
came on, and Gordon's Sixth Form privileges were restored. For a short
time the hold of athleticism was weakened, and as it weakened, the hold
of literature became more firm.

"House Caps" were always allowed a fairly slack time after the Three
Cock, and Gordon made the best of his. While the last traces of winter
were disappearing, and the evenings began to draw out into long,
lingering sunsets, he voyaged on into the unknown waters of poetry.
Keats and Shelley, names which had once meant nothing to him, now became
his living prophets. He felt his own life coloured by their
interpretations. During the days of his quest for power, when the scent
of battle had led him on, he had found inspiration only in those whose
moods coincided with his own. But now that the contest was over and
strife was merged into a temporary lull, there came a check in the fiery
search for achievements. He found pleasure in the gentler but far more
beautiful melodies of Keats. Byron a