“Plays Polly Peachum,” continued Sprattly, not heeding the interruption; “Coralie, the French girl, does Lucy Lockit; and Courtenay--or Jack, if you will have it so,” he added quickly, perceiving that Norman was again about to speak--“Jack himself is cast for Macheath; stunningly he’ll play it too, for I heard him last winter--can’t he just tip ’em, ‘How happy could I be with either’ in style!--Uncommon well he looks, too, in the highwaymen’s dress--red frock-coat, with gold frogs, and high shiny leather boots; but Jack’s a regular spicy-looking fellow.” “Little too much of the lamps and sawdust about him,” returned Norman, superciliously. He paused a moment, then turning to Biggington, he said abruptly, fixing his piercing glance upon him as he spoke-- “Big., we must go to this affair.” Thus appealed to, the cock of the school, who at heart was more dunghill than game, like most other bullies, turned rather pale as he replied in a low voice-- “How is it to be done?” “I have ideas on the subject,” returned Norman, confidently; “but we need not trouble other folks with our private affairs. I don’t exactly agree with Solomon about the advisability of a multitude of counsellors.” “If you’re good for a spree I’ll stick to you to the backbone!” exclaimed Terry, a boy nearly sixteen, who lived only for mischief, and worshipped Norman, as Stradwick did Biggington, only with enthusiasm, instead of servility. Stradwick, the remaining member of the party, was beginning slowly and gravely, “I shall do whatever Big------” when a shout of laughter from Norman, Sprattly, and Terry, cut him short. As soon as Sprattly had sufficiently recovered from the effects of his hilarity to be able to speak, he observed-- “Well, if you naughty boys are determined to plot mischief, of course I must not hear it: only, if we _should_ meet by any accident behind the scenes of the theatre, I shall have much pleasure in introducing you to Polly Peachum and the fascinating Coralie;--by-the-bye, let me give you a hint! that stuck-up parson, young Carrington, is a precious sight more wide awake than the Don, so keep out of his way as much as you can.” And having thus spoken, Pentameter Sprattly carried off his five feet four of vulgar humanity, with the most conceited air possible of underbred pretensions. “What a thorough snob that unfortunate little Pen. has improved into!” observed Norman, as soon as the amiable usher was out of earshot. “He never was anything else since I’ve known the animal,” returned Biggington, surlily; “that’s him all the world over: he’ll give a fellow information which he knows will set him raving to do a thing, and then come out with his humbugging, ‘Well, you _would_ do it; I _told_ you you’d get into a scrape.’ I wonder what his object now is?”