Meanwhile, the college boys, after driving Mr. Ketch nearly wild with their jokes and ridicule touching the mystery of the keys, were scared by the sudden appearance of the head-master. They decamped as fast as their legs could carry them, bringing themselves to an anchor at a safe distance, under shade of the friendly elm trees. Bywater stuck his back against one, and his laughter came forth in peals. Some of the rest tried to stop it, whispering caution. “It’s of no good talking, you fellows! I can’t keep it in; I shall burst if I try. I have been at bursting point ever since I twitched the keys out of his hands in the cloisters, and threw the rusty ones down. You see I was right--that it was best for one of us to go in without our boots, and to wait. If half a dozen had gone, we should never have got away unheard.” “_I_ pretty nearly burst when I saw the bishop come out, instead of Ketch,” cried Tod Yorke. “Burst with fright.” “So did a few more of us,” said Galloway. “I say, will there be a row?” “Goodness knows! He is a kind old chap is the bishop. Better for it to have been him than the dean.” “What was it Ketch said, about Jenkins seeing a glowworm?” “Oh!” shrieked Bywater, holding his sides, “that was the best of all! I had taken a lucifer out of my pocket, playing with it, while they went round to the south gate, and it suddenly struck fire. I threw it over to the burial-ground: and that soft Jenkins took it for a glowworm.” “It’s a stunning go!” emphatically concluded Mr. Tod Yorke. “The best we have had this half, yet.” “Hush--sh--sh--sh!” whispered the boys under their breath. “There goes the master.” CHAPTER XIII. -- MAD NANCE. Mr. Galloway was in his office. Mr. Galloway was fuming and fretting at the non-arrival of his clerk, Mr. Jenkins. Mr. Jenkins was a punctual man; in fact, more than punctual: his proper time for arriving at the office was half-past nine; but the cathedral clock had rarely struck the quarter-past before Mr. Jenkins would be at his post. Almost any other morning it would not have mattered a straw to Mr. Galloway whether Jenkins was a little after or a little before his time; but on this particular morning he had especial need of him, and had come himself to the office unusually early. One-two, three-four! chimed the quarters of the cathedral. “There it goes--half-past nine!” ejaculated Mr. Galloway. “What _does_ Jenkins mean by it? He knew he was wanted early.” A sharp knock at the office door, and there entered a little dark woman, in a black bonnet and a beard. She was Mr. Jenkins’s better half, and had the reputation for being considerably the grey mare. “Good morning, Mr. Galloway. A pretty kettle of fish, this is!” “What’s the matter now?” asked Mr. Galloway, surprised at the address. “Where’s Jenkins?”