“Then hadn’t you better write to your father first? It might not be convenient.” The impulsive David had already written “Ripping: stay as long as you can,” but he paused. “Oh well, I suppose it would be best, sir,” he said; “I wish you hadn’t thought of it.” David got up to go to his study, and write the note which was so far outstripped by his desire. “And may I talk to Bags and Plugs about the Court of Appeal, sir!” he said. “Certainly. You can talk it over with Manton, too, if you like. In fact, I rather recommend it.” Adams’s recommendation seemed to be rather sensible when David thought over it, though not perhaps strictly in accordance with Adams’s idea in suggesting it. It would give the Court an opportunity perhaps of finding out what Manton had said to the Head, and, should Manton not choose to tell them, it was easy to threaten, as a counter-move, that the Court, when called upon, as it undoubtedly would be, to appear before the Head, would give a highly coloured account, strictly based upon facts, of what had led to its formation. Also they could put before Manton and Crossley a very depressing picture of what their position would be if the Court was dissolved, and, privately, chose not to back up their restored authority. It required but small imagination to picture the status of those two unfortunate prefects if they had to enforce discipline in the house without the support of what had been the Court. Bags and Gregson had just come in from their run, and Gregson, being in his bath and in the superior position of having no clothes on, could take reprisals by water on David’s having refused to go out. David, in fact, had to dodge a soaking sponge thrown at him, before he had time to begin to explain. “Oh, _pax_ a minute,” he said. “There’s a damned—an awful serious thing happened, Plugs. The Head knows all about the Court of Appeal, and it’s goin’ to be gone into.” “Rot,” said Gregson, filling his sponge again. “Now who wouldn’t go out for a sweat, David?” “’Tisn’t rot,” shrieked David, snatching up a towel to shield himself. “I swear it isn’t. While you brutes have been having an innocent happy sweat along the road this nice weather, I’ve been jawed by Adams. It’s a solid fact. We’re all going to be hauled up before the Head, and he was disposed to be uncommonly sick about it, so Adams said. Do shut up being funny with sponges.” “Right oh,” said Plugs, “if you swear you’re not lying.” “Swear!” said David. “Hurry up and dress, and come to my study, because you and I and Bags have to talk. It’s—it’s a welter of politics.” The Court accordingly met in about ten minutes’ time in David’s study, where he had made tea for them, and where, on the table, lay Jevons’s appeal. He laid before the other two all his talk with Adams, reproducing it with laudable accuracy.