The question 'Well?' especially when addressed by a master to a boy, is one of the few questions to which there is literally no answer. You can look sheepish, you can look defiant, or you can look surprised according to the state of your conscience. But anything in the way of verbal response is impossible. Gethryn attempted no verbal response. 'Well, Gethryn,' went on Mr Jephson, 'was it pleasant up the river yesterday?' Mr Jephson always preferred the rapier of sarcasm to the bludgeon of abuse. 'Yes, sir,' said Gethryn, 'very pleasant.' He did not mean to be massacred without a struggle. 'What!' cried Mr Jephson. 'You actually mean to say that you did go up the river?' 'No, sir.' 'Then what do you mean?' 'It is always pleasant up the river on a fine day,' said Gethryn. His opponent, to use a metaphor suitable to a cricket master, changed his action. He abandoned sarcasm and condescended to direct inquiry. 'Where were you yesterday afternoon?' he said. The Bishop, like Mr Hurry Bungsho Jabberjee, B.A., became at once the silent tomb. 'Did you hear what I said, Gethryn?' (icily). 'Where were you yesterday afternoon?' 'I can't say, sir.' These words may convey two meanings. They may imply ignorance, in which case the speaker should be led gently off to the nearest asylum. Or they may imply obstinacy. Mr Jephson decided that in the present case obstinacy lay at the root of the matter. He became icier than ever. 'Very well, Gethryn,' he said, 'I shall report this to the Headmaster.' And Gethryn, feeling that the conference was at an end, proceeded on his way. After chapel there was Norris to be handled. Norris had been rather late for chapel that morning, and had no opportunity of speaking to the Bishop. But after the service was over, and the School streamed out of the building towards their respective houses, he waylaid him at the door, and demanded an explanation. The Bishop refused to give one. Norris, whose temper never had a chance of reaching its accustomed tranquillity until he had consumed some breakfast--he hated early morning chapel--raved. The Bishop was worried, but firm. 'Then you mean to say--you don't mean to say--I mean, you don't intend to explain?' said Norris finally, working round for the twentieth time to his original text. 'I can't explain.' 'You won't, you mean.' 'Yes. I'll apologize if you like, but I won't explain.' Norris felt the strain was becoming too much for him. 'Apologize!' he moaned, addressing circumambient space. 'Apologize! A man cuts off in the middle of the M.C.C. match, loses us the game, and then comes back and offers to apologize.' 'The offer's withdrawn,' put in Gethryn. 'Apologies and explanations are both off.' It was hopeless to try and be conciliatory under the circumstances. They did not admit of it. Norris glared.