"Call yersilves the Three Points, do ye? An' would ye know what _I_ call ye? The Young Ladies' Seminary!" bellowed another with withering scorn. A third member of the audience alluded to them as "stiffs." "I fear, Comrade Windsor," said Psmith, "that our blithe friends below are beginning to grow a little unpopular with the many-headed. They must be up and doing if they wish to retain the esteem of Pleasant Street. Aha!" Another and a longer explosion from below, and more bullets wasted themselves on air. Psmith sighed. "They make me tired," he said. "This is no time for a _feu de joie_. Action! That is the cry. Action! Get busy, you blighters!" The Irish neighbours expressed the same sentiment in different and more forcible words. There was no doubt about it--as warriors, the Three Pointers had failed to give satisfaction. A voice from the room called up to Psmith. "Say!" "You have our ear," said Psmith. "What's that?" "I said you had our ear." "Are youse stiffs comin' down off out of dat roof?" "Would you mind repeating that remark?" "Are youse guys goin' to quit off out of dat roof?" "Your grammar is perfectly beastly," said Psmith severely. "Hey!" "Well?" "Are youse guys--?" "No, my lad," said Psmith, "since you ask, we are not. And why? Because the air up here is refreshing, the view pleasant, and we are expecting at any moment an important communication from Comrade Gooch." "We're goin' to wait here till youse come down." "If you wish it," said Psmith courteously, "by all means do. Who am I that I should dictate your movements? The most I aspire to is to check them when they take an upward direction." There was silence below. The time began to pass slowly. The Irishmen on the other roof, now definitely abandoning hope of further entertainment, proceeded with hoots of scorn to climb down one by one into the recesses of their own house. Suddenly from the street far below there came a fusillade of shots and a babel of shouts and counter-shouts. The roof of the house next door, which had been emptying itself slowly and reluctantly, filled again with a magical swiftness, and the low wall facing into the street became black with the backs of those craning over. "What's that?" inquired Billy. "I rather fancy," said Psmith, "that our allies of the Table Hill contingent must have arrived. I sent Comrade Maloney to explain matters to Dude Dawson, and it seems as if that golden-hearted sportsman had responded. There appear to be great doings in the street." In the room below confusion had arisen. A scout, clattering upstairs, had brought the news of the Table Hillites' advent, and there was doubt as to the proper course to pursue. Certain voices urged going down to help the main body. Others pointed out that that would mean abandoning the siege of the roof. The scout who had brought the news was eloquent in favour of the first course.