He bowed his adieu, and Miss Brabazon went round to the house-door, and thence to the kitchen. Mrs. Butter was standing there in a fury, surrounded by coils of string and a heap of paper. "Look here, Miss Emma," was her salutation; and she was familiar with Miss Brabazon from having formerly lived servant in the college. "If those boys don't have something done to them, it's a shocking shame. There comes a railway porter to the door five minutes ago—'A parcel for you, ma'am,' he says to me, 'fourpence to pay!' Well, I was expecting a parcel from my brother, and I paid the fourpence and took it in. 'What on earth has made Bill tie it up with all this string for, and wrap it round with all this paper?' says I as I undid it. First string, and then paper; then string, and then paper; and curious round holes bored in all of it, as if done with a big iron skewer. But it never struck me—no, Miss Emma, it never struck me; and I went on and on till I came to the last wrap, and was bending over that to see whatever it could be, done up so careful, when a live mouse jumped out in my face. I shrieked out so, that it brought the German gentleman in—he thought I was afire. Between us we caught the mouse, and there he is, in a pail o' water, which is where them boys ought to be. The depth of 'em! boring them holes to keep the animal alive, and getting a railway porter to come with it, as bold as brass!" Emma Brabazon, staid lady of thirty though she was, stood coughing behind her handkerchief. "But how do you know it was the boys?" she asked. "Know!" wrathfully retorted Mrs. Butter. "There's fifty faces turned on to the house now from the playground, if there's one; and all of 'em as meek as lambs! Just look at 'em!" Thinking she would leave the ketchup for a more auspicious occasion, Miss Brabazon went away, leaving Mrs. Butter fuming and grumbling. Sundry faces certainly were still scanning the house; but Miss Brabazon appeared to see nothing, and went on her way. In turning round by the chapel, she encountered the senior boy. "Did you send that present to Mrs. Butter just now, Gall?" "A present, Miss Brabazon?" "A live mouse done up in a parcel." Gall stared, and then laughed. He knew nothing of it. The seniors were above those practical tricks. "It was the second desk, no doubt," he said. "Am I to inquire into it, Miss Brabazon?" "No, not from me. But they should not tease the old woman beyond bearing." "She is of a cranky temper," said Gall. "And the boys make it worse. Gall," added Miss Brabazon, her tone changing, and the senior boy thought it bore a touch of fear, "you have not discovered yet who fired the pistol?" "Not at all. We begin to think now, Miss Brabazon, that it was not one of us." "Ah," she said, turning her face away. "What is the cause of this feeling against the new boy, George Paradyne?" she continued, and the question seemed to come abruptly after the pause.