"_Yes_, it did; and now that you've said you're sorry, I feel frightfully lively. Let's go and smash a window or something." His spirits were infectious, and he dragged me off to the study which his intellectual eminence had recently secured for him. When we arrived there, he tossed me a bag of sweets, which had clearly been bought as a means to sugar the reconciliation, and, dropping into his armchair, stretched his legs in front of him, and said: "Let's talk as we used to." I was relieved from the necessity of finding some opening remark by the bursting into the room of "Moles" White. If you look up the Latin word "Moles" in the dictionary, you will find that it means "a huge, shapeless mass"; and all of us had been very quick to see that this was an excellent description of our junior house-prefect, White. Moles White was as enormous and ugly in his dimensions as he was genial and simple in face. You saw at a glance that he possessed all the traditional kindliness and generosity of the giant. As he crashed into Doe's study, he was swinging some books on the end of a strap. "Found you, Doe," said he. "Look here, Bramhall's got to make the best house-team it can, which means you must give up slacking at cricket. You'll play at the nets this evening." "Heavens! Ray," Doe murmured in mock dismay, as he stared out of eyes that sparkled with impudence at White's huge frame, "what on earth is this coming in?" White smiled meaningly. "Don't be cheeky now, Doe," he suggested. "No lip, please." Doe's reply was a laugh, and the question addressed to me: "I say, Ray, do you think it's an Iguanodon?" "Well," said White, striding forward and beginning to swing his books ominously, "if you're asking for trouble, you shall have it." Doe ducked down and raised his right hand to protect his head. "I never said it, White," he affirmed, giggling. "Really, I didn't. You thought I did. I never called you an Iguanodon--I've too much respect for you." "Yes, you did. Take your hand away. I'm determined to swing these books on to your head." "Ray," shouted Doe between his giggles, "take him away. Don't bully, Moles! You great beast! Ray, he's bullying me." White paused. Bullying, even in fun, was a horrible idea. The books fell limply to his side. "Be sensible, if you can, Doe. You've got to play this evening." The change in White's voice prompted Doe to raise his head and look up from under his arm at his attacker. "Great Scott, Ray," he blurted out. "If it's not an Iguanodon, it's a prehistoric animal of some sort." "My hat!" exclaimed White. "You young devil! Put that hand down while I smite you over the head with these books." And he made as though to execute his threat. Doe accordingly retired still further down into his chair, and placed his elbow to ward off the swinging books.