a" slowly passed before his eyes, and he followed the simple
story which was almost interpreted by the lovely music, when every fresh
scene seemed lovelier than all the rest, and fairyland was realized
before his eyes, his face beamed with pleasure.

"This _is_ ripping, Acton. Isn't Katrina lovely? Jove! I'd hunt for
Raffles every blessed night if there was a 'Kingdom' to finish up with!"

His enthusiasm amused Acton.

"It is very pretty, Jack, certainly."

For nearly an hour did Jack sit entranced, and when the orchestra
crashed out the last floods of melody in the _finale_, and when most of
the audience rose to go, he trotted out with Acton in a dream.

"We'll have a little supper at Frascati's, young 'un, and then home."

Frascati's completed the enchantment of Bourne. The beauty of the
supper-room, the glitter of snowy linen, of mirrors, and the inviting
crash of knives, and the clink of glasses, the busy orderliness of the
waiters, the laughter, chatter of the visitors, the scents, the sights
and sounds, fascinated him. Acton ordered a modest little supper, and
when Jack had finally pushed away his plate Acton paid the bill, and
went out to find the driver. He was there, the horse almost waltzing
with impatience to be off. The two swung themselves up, and in another
minute they were whirling along back to St. Amory's.

The St. Amory's clock could be heard striking the half hour after one
when Jack and Acton parted at the corner of Corker's garden.

"Jack," said Acton, "good night! and you need not trouble about the L7.
You've done more for me than that, and I shall not forget it."

Jack, almost weeping with gratitude, said, "Good night, Acton!" in a
fervent whisper, and scuttled over Corker's flower-beds. He pushed up
his window and crawled through, and, seeing that all was as he had left
it after supper, he undressed and jumped into bed, and in a few minutes
slept the sleep of the just.

Acton had managed his re-entrance just as successfully--did he ever
fail?--and the thought of Bourne's hopeless rage, when he should find
out about Jack's escapade, made him sleep the sleep of the happy man. He
was made that way.

[Illustration: HE PUSHED UP HIS WINDOW AND CRAWLED THROUGH.]

CHAPTER XXII

THE PENFOLD TABLET FUND

The Easter term had been one of unadulterated discomfort for Jim Cotton.
He had felt the loss of Gus's helping hand terribly, and he had not yet
found another ass to "devil" for hi