Monitors, in the opinion of these young republicans, were an invention of the Evil One, invented for the sole purpose of interfering with them. But for the monitors they could carry out their long-cherished scheme of a pitched battle on the big staircase, for asserting their right to go down the left side, when they chose, and up on the right. As it was, the monitors insisted that they should go up on the left and come down on the right. It was intolerable tyranny! And but for the monitors their comb-and-paper musical society might give daily recitals in the top corridor and so delight all Saint Dominic's. What right had the monitors to forbid the performance and confiscate the combs? Was it to be endured? And but for the monitors, once more, they might perfect themselves in the art of pea-shooting. Was such a thing ever heard of, as that fellows should be compelled to shoot peas at the wall in the privacy of their own studies, instead of at one another in the passages? It was a shame--it was a scandal--it was a crime! On burning questions such as these, Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles sunk all petty differences, and thought and felt as one man; and not the least ardent among them was Stephen. "Come on, quick! Greenfield junior," squeaked the voice of Bramble, one afternoon, as he and Stephen met on the staircase. Stephen had fought Bramble yesterday at four o'clock, and was to fight him again to-morrow at half-past twelve, but at the call of common danger he forgot the feud and tore up the stairs, two steps at a time, beside his chronic enemy. "What's the row?" he gasped, as they flew along. "Row? Why, what do you think? Young Bellerby has been doctored for tying a string across the passage!" "Had up before the Doctor? My eye, Bramble!" "It is your eye indeed! One of the monitors tripped over it, and got in a rage, and there's Bellerby now catching it in the Black Hole. Come on to the meeting; quick!" The two rushed on, joined by one and another of their fellows who had heard the terrible news. The party rushed pellmell into the Fourth Junior class-room, where were already assembled a score or more youths, shouting, and stamping, and howling like madmen. At the sight of Bramble, the acknowledged leader of all malcontents, they quieted down for a moment to hear what he had to say. "Here's a go!" classically began that hero. At this the clamour, swelled twofold by the new additions, rose louder than ever. It _was_ a go! "I wish it had been _me_!" again yelled Bramble; "I have let them know." Once more the shouts rose high and loud in approval of this noble sentiment. "_I'd_ have kicked their legs!" once more howled Bramble, as soon as he could make himself heard. "So would we; kicked their legs!" "They ought to be hanged!" screamed Bramble. "_I'll_ not fag any more for Wren!" bellowed Bramble. "I'll not fag any more for Greenfield senior!" thundered Paul. "I'll not fag any more for Loman!" shrieked Stephen.