entant. "I don't--"

"Hush!" said Jack. Then, whispering very close to my ear, he added,
"There are some things, you know, I _can't_ tell even you--about home--"

There was a sound in the room, as of a boy, suddenly aroused, starting
up in his bed. Our blood turned cold, and we remained motionless,
hardly daring to breathe, straining our ears in the darkness.

Suddenly the boy, whoever he was, sprang from his bed, and seizing the
lucifers, struck a light.

It was Hawkesbury! I had almost guessed it. I felt Jack's hand tighten
on my arm as the sudden glare fell full upon us, and Hawkesbury's voice
cried, "Oh, you fellows, what a start you gave me! I couldn't make out
what the talking was. I thought it must be thieves!"

At the same moment the dormitory door opened, and a new glare lit up the
scene. It was Miss Henniker in her dressing-gown, with a candle.

"What, talking? Who was talking?" she said, overhearing Hawkesbury's
last exclamation.

It was a queer picture that moment, and I can recall it even now.
Hawkesbury standing in his night-shirt in the middle of the room. I, as
lightly clad, crouching transfixed beside my friend's bed, who was
sitting up with his hand on my arm. And the Henniker there at the door,
in her yellow-and-black dressing-gown and curl-papers, holding her
candle above her head, and looking from one to the other.

"Who was talking?" she demanded again, turning to Hawkesbury.

Hawkesbury, smiling, returned to his bed, as he replied, "Oh, nothing.
I think I must have been dreaming, and woke in a fright."

But as he spoke his eyes turned to us two, and Miss Henniker's followed
naturally. Then the whole truth dawned upon her.

I rose from my knees and walked sheepishly back to my bed.

"What are you doing out of your bed, sir?" demanded she.

It was little use delaying matters by a parley, so I replied, bluntly,
"Talking to Smith."

"And I," added the loyal Smith, "was talking to Batchelor!"

"Silence!" cried the Griffin. "Batchelor, dress immediately, and follow
me!"

I did as I was bid, mechanically--that is, I slipped on my
knickerbockers and slippers--and found myself in a couple of minutes,
thus airily attired, following Miss Henniker, like a ghost, down the
long passage. She led the way, not, as I expected, to the parlour, or
to Mr Ladislaw's room, but conducted me upstairs and ushered me into a
small and perfectly empty garret.

"Remain here, Batchelor!" said s