Tulke preserved that modesty till the last moment--till the journey-money had been paid, and the boys were filling the brakes that took them to the station. Then the three happily constrained him to wait awhile.

`You see, Tulke, you may be a prefect,' said Stalky, `but I've left the Coll. Do you see, Tulke, dear?'

`Yes, I see. Don't bear malice, Stalky.'

`Stalky? Curse your impudence, you young cub,' shouted Stalky, magnificent in top-hat, stiff collar, spats, and high-waisted, snuff-coloured ulster. `I want you to understand that I'm Mister Corkran, an' you're a dirty little schoolboy.'

`Besides bein' frabjously immoral,' said M`Turk. `Wonder you aren't ashamed to foist your company on pure-minded boys like us.'

`Come on, Tulke,' cried Naughten, from the prefects' brake.

`Yes, we're comin'. Shove up and make room, you Collegers. You've all got to be back next term, with your "Yes, sir," and "Oh, sir," an' "No, sir," an' "Please, sir"; but before we say good-bye we're going to tell you a little story. Go on, Dickie' (this to the driver); `we're quite ready. Kick that hat-box under the seat, an' don't crowd your Uncle Stalky.'

`As nice a lot of high-minded youngsters as you'd wish to see,' said M`Turk, gazing round with bland patronage. `A trifle immoral, but then--boys will be boys. It's no good tryin' to look stuffy, Carson. Mister Corkran will now oblige with the story of Tulke an' Mary Yeo!'