“I should be most happy, sir, to obey orders,” said the little Cambridge man, bowing; “only I hold the identical commission, ounce of practice and all, for your benefit, my good sir, and that of all the other juniors.” “Now that shows a want of vareaty,” cried the tall Dunelmian, “for the sole charge of all of ye is commeeted to _me_.” “Itʼs me blessed self that got it last, and that manes to kape it. What time wur you there, gintlemen, at Ory Thamis Buildings?” It was settled that the Irishman had received his commission last, for, some whisky having been produced, he and Hearty Wibraham had kept it up until twelve oʼclock on the Saturday night. So, to his intense delight, he was now appointed captain. “An’ if I donʼt drag him from his hole, to pay him the sixty guineas I owe him, out of your money, gintlemen, say my name isnʼt Manus OʼToole. Now the fust arder I give, is to have in the bhoy, and wallop him.” Easier said than done, Mr. Toole. There was no boy to be found anywhere; and the only result of a strong demonstration in the passage was a curt note from the landlord. “GENTLEMEN,—I understood as I had lett my rooms to a respectable party, rent payable weakly, and weak is up this day. Will take it a favuor to reseeve two pound ten per bearer. “JOHN CODGER.” The four university men looked wondrously blank at this—“gelidusque per ima cucurrit ossa tremor.” “Well, I _am_ blowed!” cried the little Cantab, getting smaller, and with the sky–blue stripes on his trousers quivering. “Thereʼs a cousin of mine, a soleecitor,” said the young north countryman, “would take up this case for us, if we made a joint deposeet.” “Have down the landlord and fight him,” proposed the Emerald Islander. “I donʼt care a fig for the landlord,” said Cradock, who now recalled some shavings of law from the Quarter Sessions spokeshave; “he can do nothing at all to us, until twelve oʼclock, and then he can send us about our business, and no more harm done. We were not parties to the original contract, and have nothing to do with the rent. Now, gentlemen, there is only one thing I would ask you, in return for my lucid legal opinion.” “What is that?” cried all the rest; “whatever it is, you shall have it.” “That you make over to me, _vivâ voce_, your three–fourths of the brass–plate. I have taken a strange fancy to it; the engraving is so fine.” “You are perfectly welcome to it,” exclaimed the other three; “but wonʼt it belong to the landlord?” “Not if it is merely screwed on, as probably is the case. And I have a screw–driver in my knife, which very few screws can resist.” “Then go and take it, by all means, before twelve oʼclock, for afterwards we shall only be trespassers.”