"Well, you may go on your way to the eternal bonfire," said Bradford, "but I am for righteousness. Now, listen to this, it's in the book we have to read for confirmagers, _Daily Lies on the Daily Path_: '... If you think that in your house things are being talked about that would shock your mother or sister, don't merely shun it as something vile. It is your duty to fight against it; reason with the boys. They probably have some grain of decency left in them. If that fails, report the matter to your house master. He will take your side. The boys will probably be expelled, but you will have done your duty, as Solomon says in Proverbs....' There now, Mansell. I am one of the children of light. So you know what to expect from me. Shall I reason with you, lad? Have you a grain of decency left in you, or must I----" At this point a well-aimed cushion put an end to the fervour of the new child of light. Betteridge sat on his head. "Look here, Bradford," he began, "you may be a convert and all that, but don't play John the Baptist in here. It does not pay. Very shortly I shall carry your head to the dustbin in a saucer. Let me tell you the story of one Stevenson in Mr Macdonald's house. He was, like you, about to be confirmed, and was, like you, very full of himself. And being, as Lovelace, a lover of the race-course, he walked about in his study in hall, chanting us a dirge out of sheer religious fervour: 'My name is down for the confirmation stakes.' Macdonald passed the door and, on hearing him, entered and said: 'Well you are scratched now at any rate! 'Take that to heart, and be not as the seeds that are sown on stony ground, who spring up in the night and wither in the morning." Betteridge intoned the whole lecture. The story was in a way true, but the Stevenson in question had shouted down the passage: "Hurrah, no prep. to-night; my name is down for the confirmation stakes." With the result as above. Gordon burst out: "By the way, talking of Macdonald, he made a priceless remark to-day. Kennedy, that little cove in Christy's, came in late and began stammering out that it was only a minute or two over time; Macdonald looked on him for a minute, and then said: 'Your excuse is just about as good as the woman's who, having had an illegitimate baby, protested that it was only a small one.'" "By Jove, he's some fellow. Now he's a man," said Mansell. "He's a boy still; he can see our side of the question, and he knows what footling idiots half of the common room are. If we had more like him." ... "And it would be a jolly good thing, too," said Betteridge, "if we could get a really young master like that Winchborough man, Ferrers, I was telling you about. He'd stir things up a bit." At that moment the Abbey sounded half-past eight. "Good Lord," said Hunter, "only quarter of an hour more, and we've done nothing the whole of hall. Let's rout out Lovelace and go and rag Rudd."