"Mercy on us!" shrieked the old dame, startled out of her seven senses. "What be that?" The clerk, recovering his consternation, rose and regarded the damage; the broken saucer, the wasted milk, and the scared cat--the genial animal standing with her back up in the farthest corner. "That's the way they do it, is it?" he wrathfully cried, as he stooped to pick up the key, a difficult process, from his rheumatic loins. "My gentleman can't bring in the key and hang it up decently, but must shy it in, and do this mischief! I wonder the master lets 'em have the run of the organ! I wouldn't." "It were that Robbins, I know," said the dame, shaking still. "It were just the t'other, then--Arkell. Poor pussy! poor tit, tit, tit!" "Arkell! Why he be always so quiet and perlite!" "It's a perlite thing to fling the key in upon us after this fashion, ain't it?" growled the clerk. "Come along then, titsey! Don't put its back up! Come to its missis!" But the outraged cat wholly refused to be soothed. It snarled, and spit, and snarled again; making a spring finally into a pantry, and thence away through an open casement window. The tea hour at the head master's was half-past five; and the boys sat down to it this evening as usual. They were accustomed to take that meal alone, and the absence of one or other of the boys at it had become, in consequence, rather general; therefore, Arkell's not appearing went really without notice. Lewis appeared to be in a flow of delight, and devoured Arkell's share of bread-and-butter as well as his own. There were in all, at this time, about ten boarders residing at the master's, some of them being his private pupils. The two Lewises were there still; but Mrs. Lewis had given notice of their removal at Christmas, as she intended to receive them into the house she had taken possession of--the late Marmaduke Carr's. Now it happened, by good or by ill luck, as the reader may decide, that the master and Mrs. Wilberforce were abroad that evening. In his absence the senior boy had full authority, and the rest dared not disobey him. This might not have been well with some seniors; but Jocelyn was one in whom confidence could be placed. At supper--eight o'clock--Arkell was still absent, and Jocelyn now observed it. One of the others remarked that he was most likely at the deanery. This was Vaughan; a rather stupid boy, who had been nicknamed in consequence Bright Vaughan. At nine o'clock, the man-servant brought in the book for prayers, read by the senior boy when the master himself was not there. Absence from prayers was never excused, unless under the especial permission of Mr. Wilberforce; and he would have severely punished any boy guilty of it. Another thing that he exacted was, that prayers should be read precisely to the hour. So Jocelyn read them, and the servant carried away the book. "I say, though, where can Arkell be?" wondered the boys. "He's never out like this, unless he has leave."