So saying, he bowed low, removing a very shining new hat, wherewith he had replaced the gorgeous travelling cap, and hurried after his cousins, who were by this time seated in, and sole tenants of, the omnibus, where they presented, so to speak, a very forlorn and cast-away appearance. CHAPTER VI.--THE CONSPIRACY. “Oh, Percy, have you heard the news?” inquired Hugh, eagerly, some five weeks after his arrival at Tickletown; and as he spoke, he began dancing and clinging round his brother in a state of the greatest excitement. “What news, Hugh?” returned Percy, who, seated at his desk, was writing with the greatest assiduity. “Oh, then you haven’t heard,” resumed Hugh. “Well, you know that a company of actors are performing at the Tickletown Theatre, and that all the boys are mad to go and see them; and no wonder, either, for, from what Wilfred and others, who have seen one in London, say, a play must be the most wonderful, glorious, jolliest, brickish-est thing going.” Hugh was making surprising advances in slang, under his cousin Wilfred’s able tuition; his progress in dear Dr. Valpy’s Latin Delectus was by no means equally rapid. “I know what you have told me; but I know, also, that the Doctor has expressly forbidden any of the boys, even of the sixth form, to go to the theatre, on pain of expulsion. His reason--and it seems to me a good one--being, that he cannot exercise any surveillance (that means care, or watchfulness) over them, if they are allowed to be out late at night,” returned Percy, gravely. “Yes; but you don’t know that the manager has written to the Doctor to say that he will give a morning performance, and select only pieces of which the Doctor shall approve, if he will allow the boys to go; and the dear, good, jolly old Doctor has said ‘yes,’ and granted a half holiday next Thursday for the purpose; and I’ll never call him old Donkey any more, if Biggington kills me for refusing. But Percy, dear Percy, do you think there is any chance that we could go?” Now, although at first sight this question would appear a very simple one, it was by no means so easy to answer as might be imagined. In the first place, Percy had a vague and indistinct notion that his mother disapproved of theatrical entertainments; certainly, as far as his own personal feelings were concerned, the recent loss he had sustained, with all its painful consequences, rendered him indisposed to enjoy any such amusements. Then, again, on the score of expense: their pocket-money was very limited, Hugh being allowed sixpence, Percy a shilling a week,--a sum which was barely sufficient to supply slate-pencils, ink, peg-tops, clasp-knives, “toffy,” and all the other innumerable and incomprehensible _sine quâ nons_ of a public school-boy’s existence.