that you didn't quote to them the lines--

"`Press where ye see my _white plume_ shine amid the ranks of war, And
be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of--Jones.'"

Another peal of laughter followed this allusion to Jones's well-known
nickname of White-feather, a nickname earned by many acts of conspicuous
cowardice.

"Hush, Flip," whispered Power, "we mustn't make this quite a joke.
Jones," he continued aloud, "do you deny throwing a snowball just now at
Smythe?"

"I didn't throw one," said Jones, turning pale as he heard the hiss, and
the murmur of "White-feather again," which followed his denial.

"Why, what a pitiful, wretched, sneaking coward you are," burst out
Franklin; "I heard you egging on these fellows to pelt the monitors--
they wouldn't have done it but for you and Harpour--and I saw you hit
Smythe just now. You took care to pelt no one else, and now you deny it
before all of us who saw you. Upon my word, Jones, I feel inclined to
kick you, and I will too."

"Stop, Franklin," said Walter, laying his hands on his shoulder, "leave
him to us now. Do you still deny throwing, Jones?"

"Well, it was only just a little piece of snow," said Jones, showing in
his blotched face every other contemptible passion fused into the one
feeling of abject fear.

"Faugh!" said Power, with scorn and disgust curling his lip and burning
in his glance; "really, Jones, you're almost too mean and nasty to have
any dealings with. I don't think we can do you the honour of convening
you. You shall apologise to Smythe here and now, and that shall be
enough for _you_."

"What! do you hesitate?" said Franklin; "you don't know when you're well
off. Be quick, for we all want our breakfast."

"Never mind making him apologise," said Smythe; "he's sunk quite low
enough already."

"It's his own doing," said Walter. "We can't have lies like his told
without a blush at Saint Winifred's. Apologise he must and shall."

"Don't do it," said Mackworth.

"What!" said Henderson, "is that Mackworth speaking? Ah! I thought
so--Bliss isn't here!"

Henderson's manner was irresistibly comic; and as Mackworth winced and
slunk back to the very outside of the crowd, the loud laugh which
followed showed that the complete exposure of the worthlessness of their
champions had already turned the current of feeling among the young
conspirators, and that they were beginning to regret their unprovoked
attack on the upper boys.

"Now then,