her. "Old Ward knows where we're going; and
it's all right as long as we get back before lock-up."

The confectioner's shop patronized by the Melchester boys was situated
in a quiet street some five minutes' walk from the school-gates. Why
the proprietor's name should have been changed from Downing to "Duster"
it would be difficult to say; but as long as his customers came
furnished with ready money and good appetites, the probability is that
the former would have been quite content to serve them under any
nickname which they chose to invent.

At the back of "Duster's" establishment was a little square parlour,
where boys repaired to eat ices and drink alarming quantities of
Duster's famous home-made ginger-beer--a high explosive, which always
sent the cork out with a bang, and to drink two bottles of which
straight off would have been a risky business for any boy to attempt
without first testing the staying power of his waistcoat-buttons, and
putting several bags of sand in his jacket-pockets. In this parlour it
was that the literary society assembled for their banquet; as many as
could find room squeezing themselves on to the two short forms on
either side of the table, and the remainder camping out wherever they
could find room on the chairs, window-ledge, and a small sofa. At the
close of a summer day the place was decidedly hot and stuffy, and the
first thing everybody did was to pull off their coats and blazers and
appear in their shirt-sleeves.

Tinkleby, as president, took the post of honour at the head of the
table, and hammering the festive board with his fist, called on
"Duster" to "bring in the grub and something to drink." To describe
the banquet itself would need an abler pen than mine. The sausages
were browned to perfection, the ices were pinker than a maiden's cheek,
and the ginger-beer was stronger and more filling at the price than it
had ever been before, and made those who drank it gasp for breath and
feel as though they had swallowed a cyclone. James, surnamed "Guzzling
Jimmy," distinguished himself by finishing up with ices, and then
beginning all over again with cold ham and pickles; but at length, when
even he had finished, there was a general hammering of the table, and a
call for "speeches."

"Well, fire away," said the president. "Who's going to start?"

"I will," cried a boy named Dorris. "Gentlemen, I beg to propose a
toast--success to the Fifth Form Literary Society, and with