'What, what school? Oh, what _school_? Why, er--I'm at--er--Uppingham.' Mr Seymour's face assumed a pleased expression. 'Uppingham? Really. Why, I know several Uppingham fellows. Do you know Mr Morton? He's a master at Uppingham, and a great friend of mine.' The room began to dance briskly before Babington's eyes, but he clutched at a straw, or what he thought was a straw. 'Uppingham? Did I say Uppingham? Of course, I mean Rugby, you know, Rugby. One's always mixing the two up, you know. Isn't one?' Mr Seymour looked at him in amazement. Then he looked at the others as if to ask which of the two was going mad, he or the youth opposite him. Babington's cousin listened to the wild fictions which issued from his lips in equal amazement. He thought he must be ill. Even Richards had a fleeting impression that it was a little odd that a fellow should forget what school he was at, and mistake the name Rugby for that of Uppingham, or _vice versa_. Babington became an object of interest. 'I say, Jack,' said the cousin, 'you're feeling all right, aren't you? I mean, you don't seem to know what you're talking about. If you're going to be ill, say so, and I'll prescribe for you.' 'Is he at Rugby?' asked Mr Seymour. 'No, of course he's not. How could he have got from Rugby to London in time for a morning performance? Why, he's at St Austin's.' Mr Seymour sat for a moment in silence, taking this in. Then he chuckled. 'It's all right,' he said, 'he's not ill. We have met before, but under such painful circumstances that Master Babington very thoughtfully dissembled, in order not to remind me of them.' He gave a brief synopsis of what had occurred. The audience, exclusive of Babington, roared with laughter. 'I suppose,' said the cousin, 'you won't prosecute, will you? It's really such shocking luck, you know, that you ought to forget you're a master.' Mr Seymour stirred his tea and added another lump of sugar very carefully before replying. Babington watched him in silence, and wished that he would settle the matter quickly, one way or the other. 'Fortunately for Babington,' said Mr Seymour, 'and unfortunately for the cause of morality, I am not a master. I was only a stop-gap, and my term of office ceased today at one o'clock. Thus the prisoner at the bar gets off on a technical point of law, and I trust it will be a lesson to him. I suppose you had the sense to do the imposition?' 'Yes, sir, I sat up last night.' 'Good. Now, if you'll take my advice, you'll reform, or another day you'll come to a bad end. By the way, how did you manage about roll-call today?' 'I thought that was an awfully good part just at the end of the first act,' said Babington. Mr Seymour smiled. Possibly from gratification. 'Well, how did it go off?' asked Peterson that night. 'Don't, old chap,' said Babington, faintly. 'I told you so,' said Jenkins at a venture.