Lalage’s departure from our midst took place early in September and happened on a Wednesday, the day of the Drumbo Petty Sessions. Our list of malefactors that week was a particularly short one and I was able to leave the court house in good time to see Lalage off at the railway station. I was in fact, in very good time and arrived half an hour before the train was advertised to leave. Canon Beresford and Lalage were there before me. The Canon, when I came upon them, was pressing Lalage to help herself to chocolate creams from a large box which he held open in his hand. He greeted me with an apologetic quotation: “Nunc vino peilite curas Cras ingens iterabimus sequor.” “When you come home for the Christmas holidays, Lalage,” I said, “you’ll be able to translate that. In the meanwhile I may as well tell you that it means----” “You needn’t,” said Lalage. “Father has told me four times already. He has been saying it over and over ever since breakfast. It means that I may as well eat as much as I can now because I shall be sick to-morrow any way. But that’s all humbug, of course. I shouldn’t be sick if I ate the whole box. Last Christmas I ate three boxes as well as plum pudding.” I felt snubbed. So, I think, did the Canon. Lalage smiled at us, but more in pity than in balm. “I call this rather a scoop for me,” said Lalage. “I’m glad of that,” I said, “for I’ve brought a bottle of French plums from my mother and a box of Turkish Delight which I bought out of my own money.” “Thanks,” said Lalage. “But it wasn’t the chocolates I was thinking of. The scoop I mean is going to school. It’s a jolly sight better than rotting about here with a beastly governess.” “You can’t expect any governess to enjoy being robbed of her glycerine and cucumber,” I said. “You wouldn’t like it yourself.” “That wasn’t the real reason,” said Lalage. “Even Cattersby had more sense than that.” “She means,” said the Canon, “that it didn’t begin there.” “No,” I said, “it began with the character of Mary.” “It didn’t,” said Lalage. “She’d forgotten all about that and so had I. What really began it was my birthday. For three weeks I had suggested a holiday for that day from the tyrant. Her answer had ever been: ‘A half will do you nicely.’ If pressed: ‘You are very ungrateful. I may not give you even that.’ So I acted boldly. It was breakfast time and we were eating fish----” “Trout,” said the Canon. “I remember the morning perfectly. Tom Kitterick caught them the day before. I took him out with me. The Archdeacon had been over to see me.” “Laying down my fork,” Lalage went on, “I said to no one in particular----” “Excuse me, Lalage,” I said, “but is this a quotation from the last number of the _Anti-Cat?_” “It is. I had an article about it. How did you guess?”