Meanwhile, as the year neared its close, the inventive minds of Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan and the Tennessee Shad conceived the idea of a monster mass meeting and illustrative parade, which should down the hereditary foe--the steam laundry. Up to this time the columns of _The Lawrence_ had been flooded with communications couched in the style of the oration against Catiline, demanding to know how long the supine Lawrenceville boy would bear in silence the return of his shirt with added entrances and exits, and collars that enclosed the neck with a cheval-de-frise. This verbal, annual outbreak was succeeded, as usual, by House to House mutinies on the occasion of the arrival of the weekly boxes, without the protest taking further head or front. But at the opening of the last week of the school year, whether a machine had suddenly jumped its fences or whether the ladies of the washtubs desired to open the way for the new summer styles; however it may have been, the laundry returned like the battle flags of the republic to the outraged school. Windows were flung open and indignant boys appeared, with white shreds in hand, and vociferously appealed to the heavens above and the green lands below for justice and indemnification. A meeting of determined spirits was speedily held under the leadership of the Tennessee Shad and Doc Macnooder, and it was decided that a demonstration should take place instanter, the Houses to form and march with complete exhibits to the Upper House, where the fifth-formers should likewise display their grievances and join them in a mammoth protest. Dink, at the first sounds of martial organization, pricked up his ears and summoned the Tennessee Shad and Dennis de Brian de Boru Finnegan to explain why he had been left out of such an important enterprise. "Why have we left you out?" said the Tennessee Shad indignantly. "What's happened to you these last three weeks? You've had a fighting grouch--no one dared to speak to you for fear of being bitten!" "In fact," said Dennis, with his sharp, little glance, "you are under the gravest suspicion." Seeing his secret in peril, Stover assumed a melancholy, injured air. "You don't know what I've had to worry me," he said, looking out the window, "family matters--financial reverses." "Oh, I say, Dink, old boy," said the Tennessee Shad, in instant contrition. "You don't mean it's anything that might keep you from coming back next year?" said Dennis, aghast. "Oh, Dink!" "I had rather not talk about it," said Stover solemnly. Dennis and the Shad were overwhelmed with remorse--they offered him at once the Grand Marshalship, which he refused with still offended dignity, but promised his fertile brain to the common cause.