y the babel of voices which was going on all
round them.

"Never mind him," said D'Arcy; "he's a kid of a master, and don't know
any better. It's all rot. Bless you, we get the same thing--"

"D'Arcy," said the master, suddenly, "I was recommending the value of
extra work, especially for clever boys. Perhaps you will try the
experiment with fifty lines of Virgil by this time to-morrow."

"There you are," said D'Arcy, appealing to his neighbours; "didn't I
tell you he talked rot? Did you ever hear such a stale joke as that?"

The two new boys were tremendously impressed by this sudden swoop of
vengeance, and gazed open-mouthed at the master for the rest of the
class, stealing only now and again a hasty glance at D'Arcy to see how
he was bearing up against his sore afflictions.

D'Arcy, to do him justice, appeared to be bearing up very well. He was,
in truth, engaged in a mental calculation as to how, during the coming
term, he could most economically "job" out the impositions which usually
fell to his share. If his countenance now and then brightened as he met
the awe-struck gaze of the two new boys, it was because in them he
thought he discerned a lively hope of solving the problem creditably to
himself and not unprofitably to them.

"Come along," said he as soon as the class was released; "let's get out
into the fresh air and have a cool. Hullo, Wally," as the owner of that
name trotted up, "what's up?"

"Up?" said Wally in tones of injured innocence; "one would think you
didn't know it was School club elections on in an hour, and all the
chaps to whip up! If the Moderns turn up in force, it'll be touch-and-
go if they don't carry every man. I can't stop now--mind you bring
those kids."

And off he went with all the importance of captain's fag on his
electioneering tour.

"Wally's right," said D'Arcy. "It'll be a close shave to carry our men.
You see, kids," added he condescendingly, "it's just this way. The
Moderns are going to try to carry the clubs to-day, and if they do, the
whole of us aren't going to stand it, and there'll be such a jolly row
in Fellsgarth as--well, wait till you _see_."

This sounded very awful. Fisher minor would have liked to know what
sort of clubs were to be carried, but did not like to ask. Ashby,
however, more honest, demanded further particulars.

"I don't know what you mean," said he.

"Don't suppose you do. Whose fault is that? All you've got to do is to
ye