was not till after several calls, on an increasing scale of
peremptoriness, that Master Percy condescended to appear. When he did,
he was covered with dost from head to foot, and his face, what could be
seen of it, was visibly lopsided.

"Why don't you come when you're called? Whatever have you been up to--
fighting?"

"Rather not," said Percy, "only boxing. You see, it was this way;
Cottle brought a pair of gloves up this term, and young Lickford had an
old pair; so we three and Ramshaw have been having an eight-handed mill.
It was rather jolly; only Ramshaw and Lickford had the old gloves on,
and they've all the horse-hair out, so Cottle and I got it rather hot on
the face. But we took it out of them with our body blows--above the
belt, you know--not awfully above. I couldn't come when you called,
because we were wrestling out one of the rounds. It's harder work an
eight-handed wrestle than four hands. Just when you called first, I
nearly had Cottle and Lickford down, but you put me off my trip, and
Ramshaw had me over instead."

"All very interesting," said Clapperton, "but you'll have to come sharp
next time or I shall trip you up myself. Take this note over to Yorke.
Stop while he reads it, and if there's any answer, bring it; if not,
don't wait."

"Can't Cash take it? We're not nearly finished."

"No. Cut off, sharp!"

"Awful shame!" growled the messenger to himself, as he departed. "I
hate Clapperton; he always waits till I'm enjoying myself, and then
routs me out. I shan't stand it much longer. What does he want with
Yorke! Perhaps it's a challenge. Yes, by the way, very good chance!
I'll see what that cad Wally's got to say about those kids I found in
his room yesterday. Nice old games he gets up to; Wally's all very well
when he's asleep, or grubbing, or doing impositions, but he's a sight
too artful out of school, like all those Classic kids. One's as bad as
another."

As if to emphasise this sentiment, a Classic kid at that moment came
violently into collision with Master Percy's waistcoat.

It was Fisher minor, who had once more caught sight in the distance of
the mysterious borrower of his half-crown, and was giving chase.

"Where are you coming to, you kid. You've nearly smashed a button.
I'll welt you for that."

"I beg your pardon, Wally, I--"

"Wally--what do you mean by calling me Wally?" exclaimed Percy.

"Well, Wheatfield, I beg your pardon; I was in a hurry to catch