`They confess as much,' said the Reverend John. `I've seen M`Turk being hounded up the stairs to elegise the "Elegy in a Churchyard," while Beetle and Stalky went to punt-about.'

`It amounts to systematic cribbing,' said Prout, his voice growing deeper and deeper.

`No such thing,' little Hartopp returned. `You can't teach a cow the violin.'

`In intention it is cribbing.'

`But we spoke under the seal of the confessional, didn't we?' said the Reverend John.

`You say you've heard them arranging their work in this way, Gillett,' Prout persisted.

`Good Heavens! Don't make me Queen's evidence, my dear fellow. Hartopp is equally incriminated. If they ever found out that I had sneaked, our relations would suffer -- and I value them.'

`I think your attitude in this matter is weak,' said Prout, looking round for support. `It would be really better to break up the study -- for a while -- wouldn't it!'

`Oh, break it up by all means,' said Macrea. `We shall see then if Gillett's theory holds water.'

`Be wise, Prout. Leave them alone or calamity will overtake you; and what is much more important, they will be annoyed with me. I am too fat, alas! to be worried by bad boys. Where are you going?'

`Nonsense! They would not dare -- but I am going to think this out,' said Prout. `It needs thought. In intention they cribbed, and I must think out my duty.'

`He's perfectly capable of putting the boys on their honour. It's I that am a fool.' The Reverend John looked round remorsefully. `Never again will I forget that a master is not a man. Mark my words,' said the Reverend John.

`There will be trouble.'

But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright.

Out of the blue sky (they were still rejoicing over the cat war) Mr. Prout had dropped into Number Five, read them a lecture on the enormity of cribbing, and bidden them return to the formrooms on Monday. They had raged, solo and chorus, all through the peaceful Sabbath, for their sin was more or less the daily practice of all the studies.

`What's the good of cursing?' said Stalky at last. `We're all in the same boat. We've got to go back and consort with the house. A locker in the form-room, and a seat at prep. in Number Twelve.' He looked regretfully round the cosy study which M`Turk, their leader in matters of Art, had decorated with a dado, a stencil, and cretonne hangings.

`Yes! Heffy lurchin' into the form-rooms like a frowzy old retriever, to see if we aren't up to something. You know he never leaves his house alone, these days,' said M`Turk. `Oh, it will be giddy!'

`Why aren't you down watchin' cricket? I like a robust, healthy boy. You mustn't frowst in a form-room. Why don't you take an interest in your house? Yah!' quoted Beetle.

`Yes, why don't we! Let's! We'll take an interest in the house. We'll take no end of interest in the house! He hasn't had us in the form-rooms for a year. We've learned a lot since then. Oh, we'll make it a be- autiful house before we've done! `Member that chap in Eric or St. Winifred's -- Belial somebody? I'm goin' to be Belial,' said Stalky, with an ensnaring grin.