Mr. Cayley acquiesced in this proposal, and the form, putting their feet up on convenient ledges and producing refreshment from the secret recesses of their persons, proceeded to crack nuts and jokes, while their instructor laboured with studious politeness to extract from them information as to their initials and length of days. It was not too easy a task, for every boy in the room was conversing, and not necessarily with his next-door neighbour. Once a Liddell and Scott lexicon (medium size) hurtled through space and fell with a crash upon the floor. Mr. Cayley looked up. "Someone," he remarked with mild severity, "is throwing india-rubber." Name-taking finished, he made another attempt to revert to the passage of unprepared translation. But a small boy, with appealing eyes and a wistful expression, rose from his seat and timidly deposited a large and unclean object upon Mr. Cayley's desk. "I excavated this during the holidays, sir," he explained; "and thinking it would interest you, I made a point of preserving it for your inspection." Instant silence fell upon the form. Skilfully handled, this new diversion was good for quite half an hour's waste of time. "This is hardly the moment, Benton," replied Mr. Cayley, "for a disquisition on geology, but I appreciate your kindness in thinking of me. I will examine this specimen this afternoon, and classify it for you." But Master Benton had no intention of permitting this. "Does it belong to the glacial period, sir?" he inquired shyly. "I thought these marks might have been caused by ice-pressure." There was a faint chuckle at the back of the room. It proceeded from the gentleman whose knife Benton had borrowed ten minutes before in order to furnish support for his glacial theory. "It is impossible for me to say without my magnifying-glass," replied Mr. Cayley, peering myopically at the stone. "But from a cursory inspection I should imagine this particular specimen to be of an igneous nature. Where did you get it?" "In the neck!" volunteered a voice. Master Benton, whose cervical vertebræ the stone had nearly severed in the course of a friendly interchange of missiles with a playmate while walking up to school, hastened to cover the interruption. "Among the Champion Pills, sir," he announced gravely. "The Grampian Hills?" said Mr. Cayley, greatly interested. He nodded his head. "That may be so. Geologically speaking, some of these hills were volcanoes yesterday." "There was nothing about it in the _Daily Mail_ this morning," objected a voice from the back benches. "I beg your pardon?" said Mr. Cayley, looking up. "It sounds like a fairy tale, sir," amended the speaker. "And so it is!" exclaimed Mr. Cayley, the geologist in him aroused at last. "The whole history of Nature is a fairy tale. Cast your minds back for a thousand centuries." ...