“But what steps,” said Psmith, “are you going to take? Spiller, the man of Logic, we know. But what of Spiller, the Man of Action? How do you intend to set about it? Force is useless. I was saying to Comrade Jackson before you came in, that I didn’t mind betting you were an insignificant-looking little weed. And you _are_ an insignificant-looking little weed.” “We’ll see what Outwood says about it.” “Not an unsound scheme. By no means a scaly project. Comrade Jackson and myself were about to interview him upon another point. We may as well all go together.” The trio made their way to the Presence, Spiller pink and determined, Mike sullen, Psmith particularly debonair. He hummed lightly as he walked, and now and then pointed out to Spiller objects of interest by the wayside. Mr. Outwood received them with the motherly warmth which was evidently the leading characteristic of his normal manner. “Ah, Spiller,” he said. “And Smith, and Jackson. I am glad to see that you have already made friends.” “Spiller’s, sir,” said Psmith, laying a hand patronisingly on the study-claimer’s shoulder--a proceeding violently resented by Spiller--“is a character one cannot help but respect. His nature expands before one like some beautiful flower.” Mr. Outwood received this eulogy with rather a startled expression, and gazed at the object of the tribute in a surprised way. “Er--quite so, Smith, quite so,” he said at last. “I like to see boys in my house friendly towards one another.” “There is no vice in Spiller,” pursued Psmith earnestly. “His heart is the heart of a little child.” “Please, sir,” burst out this paragon of all the virtues, “I----” “But it was not entirely with regard to Spiller that I wished to speak to you, sir, if you were not too busy.” “Not at all, Smith, not at all. Is there anything----” “Please, sir--” began Spiller. “I understand, sir,” said Psmith, “that there is an Archaeological Society in the school.” Mr. Outwood’s eyes sparkled behind their pince-nez. It was a disappointment to him that so few boys seemed to wish to belong to his chosen band. Cricket and football, games that left him cold, appeared to be the main interest in their lives. It was but rarely that he could induce new boys to join. His colleague, Mr. Downing, who presided over the School Fire Brigade, never had any difficulty in finding support. Boys came readily at his call. Mr. Outwood pondered wistfully on this at times, not knowing that the Fire Brigade owed its support to the fact that it provided its light-hearted members with perfectly unparalleled opportunities for ragging, while his own band, though small, were in the main earnest. “Yes, Smith.” he said. “Yes. We have a small Archaeological Society. I--er--in a measure look after it. Perhaps you would care to become a member?” “Please, sir--” said Spiller. “One moment, Spiller. Do you want to join, Smith?” “Intensely, sir. Archaeology fascinates me. A grand pursuit, sir.”