"You see--oh, take more than that--these new kids are such born asses, they boss everything. You should have heard that Fisher minor at lamb's singing the other night--like the toffee? I say, don't be a sneak about those chaps. You'd never have got them in without me. I backed you up, and got the door open. I say--would you like a Turkish stamp? I've got one to swop--but you can have it if you like." "Thanks, old man. Yes, new kinds are rot. Well, ta, ta--better make it up, I suppose. I say, I shan't have time to write home to-day. You write this time, and I'll do the two next week." "All serene, if you like. Here, you're leaving one of your bits of toffee. Ta, ta, old chappie." And these great twin brethren, whose infirmity it was always to be fond of one another when they were together, and to scorn one another when they were apart, separated in a most amicable fashion. "Well?" asked the three exiles, putting in their heads as soon as the enemy had gone. "Choked him off," said Wally, fanning himself. "Jolly hard work. But he came round." Percy, meanwhile, having suddenly remembered his errand, hastened back to the house. As he did so he observed notices of the fifteen for the Rendlesham match posted on Wakefield's door, on the school-board, and at Forder's. He solaced himself by writing in bold characters the word "beast" against each of the names which belonged to a Classic boy, and discovered, when his task was done, that he had inscribed the word nine times out of fifteen on each notice. Whereupon he made off at a run to his senior's. "Well," said Clapperton, evidently anxious, "didn't I tell you to come back at once! Any answer?" "Yes, this," said Percy, producing the captain's letter. "I say, Yorke grinned like anything when he read yours." "Did he?" replied Clapperton, opening the envelope. Evidently Yorke in his reply had not been guilty of a joke, for the face of the Modern captain was dark and scowling as he read it. "Cool cheek," muttered he. "Dangle was right, after all. You can go, youngster." "All right. I say, they've got the fifteen stuck up on the boards--six of our chaps in it. We ought to lick them this year." But as Clapperton did not do him the favour of heeding his observations, he retired, and tried vainly to collect his scattered forces to conclude the eight-handed boxing match, which had been so unfeelingly interrupted an hour ago. Clapperton, to do him justice, could not deny to himself that the team selected by the captain was the best fighting fifteen the School could put into the football field. But, having advanced his claim for half numbers, his pride was hurt at finding it almost contemptuously set aside. It would never do for him to climb down now.