im through the catalogue
of the aimless, stupid, footling performances in the term, and Gus blankly
wondered how the dickens Taylor knew quite so much of his doings, He felt
that the house master was not a bad imitation of Corker on a flaying
expedition. I must say that Taylor's performance was a considerable trifle
above the average "beak's wigging," but the sting of his discourse was in
the tail. "Now, Todd, would you like me to ask Dr. Moore to transfer you
to some other house, where your very intimate friends will not absorb so
much of your time?"

Todd blushed purple at this very broad hint.

"I'd rather stay where I am; I am not quite an incapable, sir."

"No; I don't think you are--not quite. Dr. Moore, however, is somewhat out
of patience with you, and proposes drastic measures."

"Home?" inquired Todd, with gloomy conviction.

"Yes," said the house master. "Dr. Moore has written your father. But you
are coming back next term, when you will have the chance of showing that
that awful performance in the Exhibition is not your true form. I hope
you'll take it."

Todd said bitterly, "I will, sir."

"I am glad of that," said Taylor, "and I believe you will. Good night,
Todd."

"Good night, sir."

Todd packed up his portmanteaux that night as gloomily and as savagely as
though his shirts were his deadly enemies. But there was a square,
determined thrust-out of his weak chin which boded ill for Jim Cotton's
classics and mathematics in the future.

CHAPTER VIII

BIFFEN'S CONCERT

It was the inalienable right of the juniors of the cock-house to give a
concert the last night of the term, and to have free and undisputed
possession of the concert-room. Corker made it a rule that the captain of
the school should be there to see there were no riots, which, as the fags
were off home on the morrow, was more than possible. So when I got a
polite note from Grim about half an hour after the results of the Perry
Exhibition had been announced, telling me that Corker had given the
customary consent, I strolled about looking up a cohort of monitors to
help me in maintaining the "sacred cause of order and decency." I knew of
old those junior concerts. "Pandemonium" was nearer the word.

Biffen's juniors, red-hot from their exertions and hoarse from their
shouting in the speech-room, held a meeting in their own private quarters
to deliberate as to their concert.

"I vote Father Grim to the chair," said Wilson.