“It is not, indeed,” said Arthur. “I shall take it if I can get leave from Mr. Galloway. Williams has just asked me.” “Is that true, Arthur?” burst forth Tom Channing, elbowing his way to the front. “Now, Tom, should I say it if it were not true? I only hope Mr. Galloway will throw no difficulty in my way.” “And do you mean to say that you are going to be cock over us choristers?” asked Bywater. “No, thank you,” laughed Arthur. “Mr. Williams will best fill that honour. Bywater, has the mystery of the inked surplice come to light?” “No, and be shot to it! The master’s in a regular way over it, though, and--” “And what do you think?” eagerly interrupted Tod Yorke, whose face was ornamented with several shades of colour, blue, green, and yellow, the result of the previous day’s pugilistic encounter: “my brother Roland heard the master say he suspected one of the seniors.” Arthur Channing looked inquiringly at Gaunt. The latter tossed his head haughtily. “Roland Yorke must have made some mistake,” he observed to Arthur. “It is perfectly out of the question that the master can suspect a senior. I can’t imagine where the school could have picked up the notion.” Gaunt was standing with Arthur, as he spoke, and the three seniors, Channing, Huntley, and Yorke, happened to be in a line facing them. Arthur regarded them one by one. “You don’t look very like committing such a thing as that, any one of you,” he laughed. “It is curious where the notion can have come from.” “Such absurdity!” ejaculated Gerald Yorke. “As if it were likely Pye would suspect one of us seniors! It’s not credible.” “Not at all credible that you would do it,” said Arthur. “Had it been the result of accident, of course you would have hastened to declare it, any one of you three.” As Arthur spoke, he involuntarily turned his eyes on the sea of faces behind the three seniors, as if searching for signs in some countenance among them, by which he might recognize the culprit. “My goodness!” uttered the senior boy, to Arthur. “Had any one of those three done such a thing--accident or no accident--and not declared it, he’d get his name struck off the rolls. A junior may be pardoned for things that a senior cannot.” “Besides, there’d be the losing his chance of the seniorship, and of the exhibition,” cried one from the throng of boys in the rear. “How are you progressing for the seniorship?” asked Arthur, of the three. “Which of you stands the best chance?” “I think Channing does,” freely spoke up Harry Huntley. “Why?” “Because our progress is so equal that I don’t think one will get ahead of another, so that the choice cannot be made that way; and Channing’s name stands first on the rolls.” “Who is to know if they’ll give us fair play and no humbug?’ said Tom Channing. “If they do, it will be what they have never given yet!” exclaimed Stephen Bywater. “Kissing goes by favour.” “Ah, but I heard that the dean--”