nightly custom.

A little pebble struck the study window.

"Hurrah!" said Wildney, clapping his hands, "here's the grub."

They opened the window and looked out. Billy was there, and they let
down to him a long piece of cord, to which he attached a basket, and,
after bidding them "Good night, and a merry drink," retired. No sooner
had they shut the window, than he grimaced as usual towards them, and
shook his fist in a sort of demoniacal exultation, muttering, "Oh, I'll
have you all under my thumb yet, you fine young fools!"

Meanwhile the unconscious boys had opened the basket, and spread its
contents on the table. They were, bread, a large dish of sausages, a
tart, beer, and, alas! a bottle of brandy.

They soon got very noisy, and at last uproarious. The snatches of songs,
peals of laughter, and rattle of plates, at last grew so loud that the
other study-boys were afraid lest one of the masters should come up and
catch the revellers. All of them heard every word that was spoken by
Eric and his party as the walls between the rooms were very thin; and
very objectionable much of the conversation was.

"This _won't_ do," said Duncan emphatically, after a louder burst of
merriment than usual; "those fellows are getting drunk; I can tell it to
a certainty from the confused and random way in which some of them
are talking."

"We'd better go in and speak to them," said Montagu; "at any rate,
they've no right to disturb us all night. Will you come?"

"I'll join you," said Owen; "though I'm afraid my presence won't do you
much good."

The three boys went to the door of Eric's study, and their knock could
not at first be heard for the noise. When they went in they found a
scene of reckless disorder; books were scattered about, plates and
glasses lay broken on the floor, beer was spilt on all sides, and there
was an intolerable smell of brandy.

"If you fellows don't care," said Duncan, sharply, "Rose or somebody'll
be coming up and catching you. It's ten now."

"What's that to you?" answered Graham, with an insolent look.

"It's something to me that you nice young men have been making such a
row that none of the rest of us can hear our own voices, and that,
between you, you've made this study in such a mess that I can't
endure it."

"Pooh!" said Pietrie; "we're all getting such saints, that one can't
have the least bit of spree now-a-days."

"Spree!" burst in Montagu indignantly; "fine spree, to make sots of