“Capital! We will.” So Eric and Wildney started off to the coach-office, where they found the hamper, and ordered it to be brought at once to the school, and carried up to Eric’s study. On opening it they found it rich in dainties, among which were a pair of fowls and a large plum-cake. “Hurrah!” said Wildney, “you were talking of nothing to do; I vote we have a carouse to-morrow.” “Very well; only let’s have it _before_ prayers, because we were so nearly caught last time.” “Ay, and let it be in one of the class-rooms, Eric; not up here, lest we have another incursion of the ‘Rosebuds.’ I shall have to cut preparation, but that don’t matter, It’s Harley’s night, and old Stupid will never twig.” “Well, whom shall we ask?” said Eric. “Old Llewellyn for one,” said Wildney. “We havn’t seen him for an age, and he’s getting too lazy even for a bit of fun.” “Good; and Graham,” suggested Eric. He and Wildney regarded their possessions so much as common property, that he hadn’t the least delicacy in mentioning the boys whom he wanted to invite. “Yes; Graham’s a jolly bird; and Bull?” “I’ve no objection; and Pietrie?” “Well; and your brother Vernon?” “No!” said Eric, emphatically. “At any rate I won’t lead _him_ into mischief any more.” “Attlay, then; and what do you say to Brooking?” “No, again,” said Eric; “he’s a blackguard.” “I wonder you haven’t mentioned Duncan,” said Wildney. “Duncan! why, my dear child, you might as well ask Owen, or even old Rose, at once. Bless you, Charlie, he’s a great deal too correct to come now.” “Well; we’ve got six already, that’s quite enough.” “Yes; but two fowls isn’t enough for six hungry boys.” “No, it isn’t,” said Wildney. He thought a little, and then, clapping his hands, danced about and said, “Are you game for a _regular_ lark, Eric?” “Yes; anything to make it less dull. I declare I’ve very nearly been taking to work again to fill up the time.” Eric often talked now of work in this slighting way partly as an excuse for the low places in form to which he was gradually sinking. Everybody knew that had he properly exerted his abilities he was capable of beating almost any boy; so, to quiet his conscience, he professed to ridicule diligence as an unboyish piece of muffishness, and was never slow to sneer at the “grinders,” as he contemptuously called all those who laid themselves out to win school distinctions. “Ha, ha!” said Wildney, “that’s rather good! No, Eric, it’s too late for you to turn ‘grinder’ now. I might as well think of doing it myself, and I’ve never been higher than five from lag in my form yet.” “Haven’t you? But what’s the regular lark you hinted at?” “Why, we’ll go and seize the Gordonites’ _pigeons_, and make another dish of them.” “Seize the Gordonites’ pigeons! Why, when do you mean?” “To-night.” Eric gave a long whistle. “But wouldn’t it be st--t--?” “Stealing?” said Wildney, with a loud laugh. “Pooh! ‘_convey_ the wise call it.’”