It was a great come-down. The Philosophers thought so when I reported the case. Some were inclined to be angry with Tempest, others to pity him; and every one was unanimous, I do not know why, in expressing a burning desire to kick me. The expectation of a general revolt, headed by Tempest in person, and reinforced by the Urbans, faded dismally away as the company saw itself going down to "knock off" Mr Jarman's lines. "This comes," said Langrish, rather illogically, I thought, "of getting mixed up with the day-boy cads. I knew it would land us in a mess, and so it has." "Anyway, they're in the mess too," said Trimble. "It's a little rough on Tempest having to show up for them as well as for us," said I. "Shut up, and let a fellow write his lines, can't you?" growled Coxhead. "When we want Sarah's advice we'll ask for it." The reader will gather from this that the Philosophers were in bad tempers, and that their president was in imminent danger of losing his. At noon next day, when most of the school was turning out after morning class into the fields, a melancholy band might have been seen dropping in, in irregular order, at the door of the school gymnasium. All except one were juniors. Some looked as if they were used to the thing, other betrayed the shy and self-conscious embarrassment of the first delinquents. None looked cheerful, not a few looked savage. The exception in point of age was a well set-up, square-shouldered, proud- faced senior, who entered with an air of reckless disgust which was not comfortable to look at, and might be dangerous if provoked. None of us spoke to Tempest, and he vouchsafed no sign of recognition of us. A squad of the school volunteers, chiefly composed of smart boys from Mr Selkirk's house, were concluding drill as we entered, and of course took stock of our dejected looks and of Tempest's unwonted appearance as they filed out. "A row on, eh?" whispered one, as he passed us. "It doesn't look like fun, does it?" snarled Langrish. "Where does Tempest come in?" persisted the inquirer. "By the door; and the sooner you get out by it the better." "Ha, ha!--poor little naughty boys. An extra drill will do you good. Come on, you chaps. Let's leave them to enjoy themselves. They'll get used to it in time. Ho, ho!" "Fall in!" called Mr Jarman. And painfully conscious not only that a few of the volunteers were hanging about to look on, but that the school porter was at the moment conducting a party of visitors through the building, we obeyed listlessly and dismally. Tempest taking his place at the end of the line. "Are these some of the volunteers?" we heard one of the lady spectators ask. "No, madam. This is an extra drill for breach of rules," replied the official. "Number from the right," cried Mr Jarman. We numbered.