"Eh?" yelled Bramble; "oh, I say, you fellows, come to the meeting! Jolly glad! They aren't a bit glad." "They say so," said Paul. "Hold hard, Bramble, let's read the rest." It was all his friends could do to restrain the ardent Bramble from summoning a meeting on the spot to denounce the _Dominican_ and all its "crams." But they managed to hold him steady while they read on. "The Doctor never did a more--pat--pat--ri--what do you call it?-- patriotic deed than this!" "Hullo, I say, look here!" cried Stephen, turning quite yellow; "the Doctor's in it, they say, Bramble. `The small animals'--that's you and Padger--`are to be kept in their own quarters.' Whew! there's a go." "What!" shrieked Bramble, "who says so? The Doctor never said so. I shall do what I choose. He never said so. Bother the Doctor! Who's coming to the meeting, eh?" But at that moment the grave form of Doctor Senior appeared in the midst of the group, just in time to hear Master Bramble's last complimentary shout. The head master was in the most favourable times an object of terror to the "guilty-conscienced youth" of the Fourth Junior, and the sight even of his back often sufficed to quell their tumults. But here he stood face to face with his unhappy victims, one of whom had just cried, "Bother the Doctor!" and all of whom had by word and gesture approved of the sentiment. Why would not the pavement yawn and swallow them? And which of them would not at that moment have given a thousand pounds (if he had it) to be standing anywhere but where he was? "Go to your class-room," said the Doctor, sternly, eyeing the culprits one by one, "and wait there for me." They slunk off meekly in obedience to this order, and waited the hour of vengeance in blank dismay. Dr Senior did not keep them long in suspense, however. His slow, firm step sounded presently down the corridor, and at the sound each wretched culprit quaked with horror. Mr Rastle was in the room, and rose as usual to greet his chief; the boys also, as by custom bound, rose in their places. "Good morning, Mr Rastle," said the Doctor. "Are your boys all here?" "Yes, sir, we have just called over." "Ah! And what class comes on first?" "English literature, sir." "Well, Mr Rastle, I will take the class this morning, please--instead of you." A groan of horror passed through the ranks of the unhappy Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles at these words. Bramble looked wildly about him, if haply he might escape by a window or lie hid in a desk; while Stephen, Paul, Padger, and the other ringleaders, gave themselves up for lost, and mentally bade farewell to joy for ever. "What have the boys been reading?" inquired Dr Senior of Mr Rastle. "Grey's _Elegy_, sir. We have just got through it." "Oh! Grey's _Elegy_!" said the Doctor; and then, as if forgetting where he was, he began repeating to himself,-- "The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea."