aracters, and that a hundred
families to-day are working out their own little tragedy just on these
very lines."

"But surely there are really no fathers quite so absurd as old Kennion.
Does not Houghton exaggerate the type, as Dickens exaggerates all his
types?"

"Oh no, he's real enough; I expect there are a good many like him living
in Fernhurst now."

The truth of the last remark was brought home three days later.

On the Friday before the debate Ferrers got a bad attack of influenza.
There would be no one to take the chair. Moved by an instinct of
courtesy, Ferrers wrote to Christy a little note, enclosing the book,
and asking him to preside.

On Saturday morning Christy went up to Betteridge in break.

"Ah, Betteridge, Mr Ferrers has asked me to take the chair at the
Stoics. Well, I myself would not be present when such a play was read.
It is aimed at the very roots of domestic morality. It might do very
well in a small circle of Senior boys. But it would have a very serious
effect on young boys who are not as mature as you or I are. None of my
house will attend; and, from a conversation I had with Mr Rogers and Mr
Claremont, I am fairly certain they will not allow their houses to go
either. It would be really much better to wait until Mr Ferrers is well
again before anything is done. It would be quite easy to postpone the
meeting, I suppose."

"Oh yes, sir, of course."

Betteridge was not paying much attention: he was thinking hard. The bell
for school rang.

"That will be all right then, Betteridge."

"Quite, thank you, sir."

Christy, bubbling with satisfaction, rushed off to tell the head of
Buller's that the meeting had been postponed. Things were turning out
well for him. He had obtained the beating of Caruthers, and now he had
most distinctly scored off Ferrers. He did not stop to think that both
these campaigns had been carried on behind his enemy's back.

But in his moment of triumph over Ferrers he did not pause to think
whether he had also triumphed over the School House spirit of antagonism
which he himself had stirred up.

During the half-hour between morning school and lunch, Betteridge,
Tester and Gordon held a council of war.

"Of course, whatever we do," said Betteridge, "is bound to be in the
nature of farce. Three houses, you see, won't turn up at all,
Abercrombie's hardly ever sends anyone, and I don't mind betting that
Christy gets round 'the Bull' somehow."

"Yes; but, co