school were rather intricate. The Guinea-pigs
were not exactly the enemies of the Tadpoles, but the rivals. They were
always jangling among themselves, it was true; and when Stephen, for the
second time in one week, had hit Bramble in the eye, there was such
jubilation among the Guinea-pigs that any one might have supposed the
two clans were at daggers drawn. But it was not so--at least, not
always--for though they fell out among themselves, they united their
forces against the common enemy--the monitors!

Monitors, in the opinion of these young republicans, were an invention
of the Evil One, invented for the sole purpose of interfering with them.
But for the monitors they could carry out their long-cherished scheme
of a pitched battle on the big staircase, for asserting their right to
go down the left side, when they chose, and up on the right. As it was,
the monitors insisted that they should go up on the left and come down
on the right. It was intolerable tyranny! And but for the monitors
their comb-and-paper musical society might give daily recitals in the
top corridor and so delight all Saint Dominic's. What right had the
monitors to forbid the performance and confiscate the combs? Was it to
be endured? And but for the monitors, once more, they might perfect
themselves in the art of pea-shooting. Was such a thing ever heard of,
as that fellows should be compelled to shoot peas at the wall in the
privacy of their own studies, instead of at one another in the passages?
It was a shame--it was a scandal--it was a crime!

On burning questions such as these, Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles sunk all
petty differences, and thought and felt as one man; and not the least
ardent among them was Stephen.

"Come on, quick! Greenfield junior," squeaked the voice of Bramble, one
afternoon, as he and Stephen met on the staircase.

Stephen had fought Bramble yesterday at four o'clock, and was to fight
him again to-morrow at half-past twelve, but at the call of common
danger he forgot the feud and tore up the stairs, two steps at a time,
beside his chronic enemy.

"What's the row?" he gasped, as they flew along.

"Row? Why, what do you think? Young Bellerby has been doctored for
tying a string across the passage!"

"Had up before the Doctor? My eye, Bramble!"

"It is your eye indeed! One of the monitors tripped over it, and got in
a rage, and there's Bellerby now catching it in the Black Hole. Come on
to the meeting