Illustration: JIMMY LAYDER.]

CHAPTER XXVII.

FIFTH WEEK--DIFFICULTIES--HINTS--BOODELS' SECRET--ARRIVAL OF JIMMY
LAYDER--A CHANGE--PRACTICAL JOKES--PLAYING THE FOOL--DRESSING UP--
MORE JOKES--CHEMICAL LECTURE--EXPERIMENTS--RESULTS--OPEN WINDOWS--
COLDS--DEPARTURES--SMALL BY DEGREES--BEAUTIFULLY LESS--THE SHILLING
AND THE TUMBLER--BOODELS' LAST--TWO'S COMPANY--CONCLUSION.

_Note._ Fifth week of our being here.

Very happy generally, Miss Medford remarkably nice. Misses Adelaide and
Bella are always out with Cazell, Milburd and Chilvern. We've given
Jenkyns Soames several hints to go. He won't.

If I wasn't President--I should like to--but Byrton's always out with
Miss Medford. I wonder that a girl with brains, as she evidently has,
can be taken by a fellow, who really seems to think of nothing but
riding, driving, and--

"_Her_," says Boodels, to whom I utter secretly my complaint. I admit
the truth of this. Boodels informs me that he's going to be married. I
congratulate him. When? When his house is done up. Do I know the lady?
Yes. Anyone here?--Ah, he won't say, and begs me to consider this
communication strictly confidential.

Jimmy Layder is becoming a nuisance. He is perpetually practically
joking. Once and away it's very good fun--when he performs on somebody
else, not me. He comes down-stairs quietly (this is one of his favourite
tricks--so stupid, too!) and slaps you on the back suddenly, immediately
afterwards begging your pardon, and explaining that he mistook you for
somebody else.

Then the second day he was here, he changed all the boots. The third day
I could not find a single thing in its place when I went to dress in a
hurry. On my complaining to him, he pretends to be the Clown in the
Pantomime (whom he emulates in everything--and really, most dangerously,
with a genuine hot poker--so childish, and worse), and putting his hand
on his heart he declares "on his honour he didn't do it." I know, that,
when I turn, he sets them all (Miss Medford, too) laughing by making
some grotesque face, and, if I face about suddenly, he is staring at
nothing on the ceiling, or pretending to catch a fly. He puts oranges
in boots, spoons and corkscrews in people's pockets--generally mine--and
has an irritating trick of calling out "Hi!" and beckoning; then, when
you come, he asks you what you want?

_Happy Thought._--To speak to him quietly, alone. He listens. He owns
that his exubera