he worst
possible preparation for his new duties by lying awake half the night,
brooding over his difficulties and working himself into a state of
nervous misery very unlike what one would expect of the captain of a
great public school.

What worried him was not so much that he felt himself unpopular, or that
he knew all Willoughby was in arms against him. That wasn't cheerful,
certainly, or precisely solacing to a fellow's self-esteem; but it was
not nearly so disheartening as the feeling that he himself was unequal
to cope with the difficulties he would have to face. How could he cope
with them? He had never succeeded yet in keeping Telson, his own fag,
in order. How was he to expect to administer discipline to all the
scapegraces of Willoughby? It would be bad enough, even if the monitors
as a body were working with him, but when he was left almost single-
handed, as seemed probable, what chance was there? Whatever would he do
supposing a boy was reported to him for some offence, such as going out
of bounds or--

By the way! And here a horrible thought flashed across his mind. He
had been so flurried last night with one thing and another that he had
hardly noticed a message sent him after call-over by the Register Clerk.
But it occurred to him now that it was about some boys who had not
answered to their names.

He got out of bed with a groan and searched the mantelpiece for the
note. Ah! here it was:

"Co. Fr. p.m., Telson (S.H.), Bosher, King, Lawkins, Parson (P), Abs.
Go Capt. 81/2 Sa. (Telson 2, Bosher 1, Parson 2.)"

After a great deal of puzzling and cogitation Riddell managed to
translate this lucid document into ordinary English as follows:

"Call-Over, Friday evening, Telson (schoolhouse), Bosher, King, Lawkins,
Parson (Parrett's), absent. To go to the captain at half-past eight on
Saturday. (Telson has already been absent twice this week, Bosher once,
Parson twice.)" And with the discovery the unhappy captain found his
worst fears realised.

Whatever would he do? It was now half-past five. In three hours they
would be here. What would Wyndham have done? Caned them, no doubt.
Riddell had no cane. Ruler? He might break one of their ringers, or
they might resist; or worse still baffle him with some ingenious excuse
which he would not know how to deal with.

He sat by his bed staring hopelessly at the paper and wishing himself
anywhere but head of the school--and then as no new ligh