and Gus learned how
like an ass each individual of the quintette thought him. He smiled
gently at Grim's astuteness in paying him out so neatly for his previous
friendly remarks about chucking out. When the first stroke of the
roll-call bell reached the laboratory he emerged solemnly and with state
from his retreat, and stalked quietly through the knot of his outspoken
critics, who were instantly besieged by a variety of emotions. He closed
the laboratory door after him, and, when he saw the key outside, the
temptation to repay the left-handed compliments of Poulett and Co. in
their own coin was too strong. Gus gently turned the key, and was
halfway down the corridor before the band arrived at the locked door.

"Let us out!" shrieked Rogers. "We'll apologize all of us--won't we,
Poulett?"

"Yes!" yelled Poulett. "Anything! Oh, Todd, do let us out!"

But Todd went on his way, serenely ignoring the frantic appeals behind
him, and turned out into the street with a sweet smile on his face.

"That beast, Todd, has gone, and Merishall will ladle us out three
hundred of Virgil for missing call-over," moaned Bourne.

"It's four hundred, if Merishall takes it," said Rogers, with dire
conviction.

"Not for me," said Grim, beaming cheerfully around; "I'm all right. I'll
tell Merishall that the door was locked; but as for you five idiots, who
oughtn't to be here at all--well! What the dickens did you want to call
old Toddy all those fancy names for, you silly cuckoos?"

"Oh, look here, Grim, you artful bounder," shouted Poulett, bitterly,
"you've got us into this mess. Why didn't you say Todd was behind those
back benches?"

"Yes, why?" shouted the rest of the raging fags. "We'll scrag you for
this, darling. Cuckoos are we? Scrag him--put him in the scrum."

W.E. Grim had a very bad five minutes, but when he crawled out of the
scrum, hot, damaged, and dusty, he said viciously--

"I hope Merishall gives you a thou., you beastly cads. You've mucked up
my afternoon, and I'm hanged if I don't tell Lancaster."

Ten minutes after roll-call the janitor let them out, and shortly
afterwards a wretched procession of five emerged from Merishall's room
with two hundred lines from Virgil hanging over each head for a missed
call-over without excuse. Grim worked an artistic revenge on his
scrummagers by calling personally the next half-holiday to inquire if
they would prefer to analyze a green salt or to play a six-a-side
against Mer