"How awfully dull it is, Charlie," said Eric, a few weeks before Easter, as he sat with Wildney in his study one holiday afternoon. "Yes; too late for football, too early for cricket." And Wildney stretched himself and yawned. "I suppose this is what they call ennui," said Eric again, after a pause. "What's to be done, Sunbeam?" "You _shan't_ call me that, Eric the fair-haired; you _shan't_ call me that, so there's an end of it," said Wildney, hitting him on the arm. "Hush, Charlie, don't call _me_ that either; it is a name that--never mind; only don't--that's a good fellow." "By the bye, Eric, I've just remembered to-morrow's my birthday, and I've got a parcel coming this afternoon full of grub from home. Let's go and see if it's come." "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 so nearly got caught last time." "Ay, and let it be in one of the classrooms, 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 haven'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 Ball?" "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 Booking?" "No, again," said Eric; "he's a blackguard." "I wonder you haven't mentioned Duncan," said Wildney. "Duncan! why, my good fellow, 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."