"The dean was going into the deanery, sir, and Miss Beauclerc was standing at the door, waiting for him," explained Vaughan to Mr. St. John. "Something she said to Aultane put him in a passion, and he took and told the dean. It was his temper made him do it, sir." "Such a disgrace, you know, Mr. St. John, to take the dean's medal _there_," rejoined Cookesley. "Anything else wouldn't have signified." "Oh, been rather meritorious, no doubt," returned Mr. St. John. "Boys!" "Yes, Mr. St. John." "You know I was one of yourselves once, and I can make allowance for you in all ways. But when I was in the school, our motto was, Fair play, and no sneaking." "It's our motto still," cried the flattered boys. "It does not appear to be. We would rather, any one of us, have pitched ourselves off that tower," pointing to it with his hand, "than have gone sneaking to the dean with a private complaint." "And so we would still, in cool blood," cried Cookesley. "Aultane must have been out of his mind with passion when he did it." "How does Aultane know that Arkell's medal is in pawn?" "He does not say how. He says he'll pledge his word to it." "Then listen to me, boys: my word will, I believe, go as far with you as Aultane's. Yesterday afternoon I met Henry Arkell at the gate here; I asked to see his medal, and he brought it out of the house to show me. He is in bed now, but perhaps if you ask him to-morrow, he will be able to show it to you. At any rate, do not condemn him until you are sure there's a just reason. If he did pledge his medal, how many things have you pledged? Some of you would pledge your heads if you could. Fair play's a jewel, boys--fair play for ever!" Off came the trenchers, and a shout was being raised for fair play and Mr. St. John; but the latter put up his hand. "I thought it was Sunday. Is that the way you keep Sunday in Westerbury? Disperse quietly." "I'll clear him," thought Mr. St. John, as he walked home. "Aultane's a mean-spirited coward. To tell the dean!" Indeed, the incautious revelation of Mr. Aultane was exciting some disagreeable consternation in the minds of the seniors; and that gentleman himself already wished his passionate tongue had been bitten out before he made it. The following morning the college boys were astir betimes, and flocked up in a body to the judges' lodgings, according to usage, to beg what was called the judges' holiday. The custom was for the senior judge to send his card out and his compliments to the head master, requesting him to grant it; and the boys' custom was, as they tore back again, bearing the card in triumph, to raise the whole street with their shouts of "Holiday! holiday!"