`Yes, I've come for my pound of flesh. I ought to have had you out before the Exeter match; but it's our sacred duty to beat Exeter.'

`Isn't the Old Boys' match sacred, too, sir?' said Perowne. The Old Boys' match was the event of the Easter term.

`We'll hope they aren't in training. Now for the list. First I want Flint. It's the Euclid that does it. You must work deductions with me. Perowne, extra mechanical drawing. Dawson goes to Mr. King for extra Latin, and Venner to me for German. Have I damaged the First Fifteen much?' He smiled sweetly.

`Ruined it, I'm afraid, sir,' said Flint. `Can't you let us off till the end of the term?'

`Impossible. It will be a tight squeeze for Sandhurst this year.'

`And all to be cut up by those vile Afghans, too,' said Dawson. `'Wouldn't think there'd be so much competition, would you?'

`Oh, that reminds me. Crandall is coming down with the Old Boys--I've asked twenty of them, but we shan't get more than a weak team. I don't know whether he'll be much use, though. He was rather knocked about, recovering poor old Duncan's body.'

`Crandall major--the Gunner?' Perowne asked.

`No, the minor--"Toffee" Crandall--in a native infantry regiment. He was almost before your time, Perowne.'

`The papers didn't say anything about him. We read about Fat-Sow, of course. What's Crandall done, sir?'

`I've brought over an Indian paper that his mother sent me. It was rather a--hefty, I think you say--piece of work. Shall I read it?'

The Head knew how to read. When he had finished the quarter-column of close type everybody thanked him politely.

`Good for the old Coll.!' said Perowne. `Pity he wasn't in time to save Fat-Sow, though. That's nine to us, isn't it, in the last three years?'

`Yes . . . And I took old Duncan off all games for extra-tu. five years ago this term,' said the Head. `By the way, who do you hand over the Games to, Flint?'

`Haven't thought yet. Who'd you recommend, sir?'

`No, thank you. I've heard it casually hinted behind my back that the Prooshian Bates is a downy bird, but he isn't going to make himself responsible for a new Head of the Games. Settle it among yourselves. Good-night.'

`And that's the man,' said Flint, when the door shut, `that you want to bother with a dame's school row.'

`I was only pullin' your fat leg,' Perowne returned hastily. `You're so easy to draw, Flint.'

`Well, never mind that. The Head's knocked the First Fifteen to bits, and we've got to pick up the pieces, or the Old Boys will have a walk-over. Let's promote all the Second Fifteen and make Big Side play up. There's heaps of talent somewhere that we can polish up between now and the match.'

The case was represented so urgently to the school that even Stalky and M`Turk, who affected to despise football, played one Big-Side game seriously. They were forthwith promoted ere their ardour had time to