"Don't you know?" replied Wally, glad to have recovered the whip hand. "It's this way. Every new kid has to sing in his house the first-night. You'll have to." "Oh," faltered Ashby, "I can't; I don't know anything." "Can't get out of it; you must," said the twin, charmed to see the torture he was inflicting. "So must you, Hair-parting." Fisher minor was too knowing a hand to be caught napping. He had had the tip about lamb's singing from his brother last term, and was prepared. He joined in, therefore, against Ashby. "What, didn't you know that, kid? You must be green. _I_ knew it all along." "That's all right," said Wheatfield. "Now I'm going. I can't fool away all my evening with you. By the way, mind you don't get taking up with any Modern kids. It's not allowed, and you'll get it hot if you do. My young brother," (each twin was particularly addicted to casting reflections on his brother's age) "is a Modern. Don't you have anything to do with him. And whatever you do, don't lend any of them money, or there'll be a most awful row. That's why we always call up subscriptions for the house clubs on first-night. It cleans the fellows out, and then they can't lend any to the Moderns. You'll have to shell out pretty soon, as soon as Lamb's singing is over. Ta, ta." This last communication put Fisher minor in a terrible panic. He had evidently committed a gross breach of etiquette in lending that Modern boy (whose name he did not even know) a half-crown; and now, when the subscriptions were called for, he would have to declare himself before all Wakefield's a pauper. "I say," said he to Ashby, dropping the patronising for the pathetic, "could you ever lend me half-a-crown? I've--I've lost mine--I'll pay it you back next week faithfully." "I've only got five bob," said Ashby; "to last all the term, and half a crown of that will go in the clubs to-night." "But you'll get it back in a week--really you will," pleaded Fisher minor, "and I'll--" But here there was a sudden interruption. Every one, from the captain down, looked towards the new boys, and a shout of "lamb's singing," headed by Wally Wheatfield, left little doubt as to what it all meant. "Pass up the new kids down there," called one of the prefects. Whereupon Fisher minor and Ashby, rather pale and very nervous, were hustled up to the top of the room, where sat the grandees in a row round the table on which the sacrifice was to take place. For the benefit of the curious it may be explained that "lamb's singing," the name applied to the musical performances of new boys at Fellsgarth on first-night, is supposed to have derived its title from the frequency with which these young gentlemen fell back upon "Mary had a little lamb" as their theme on such occasions. "Isn't one of them your minor?" asked Yorke of Fisher senior.