rring events at Ronleigh College.

Diggory, by the daring exploit described in the previous chapter, won
all hearts; and instead of being looked upon as a new boy, was regarded
quite as an old and trusty comrade. Acton displayed marked favour
towards the Triple Alliance, and was even more friendly with Diggory and
Jack Vance than with his room and class mates, Shaw and Morris.

The Philistines seemed, for the time being, paralyzed by the humiliation
of their mud bath, and for many months there was a complete cessation
from hostilities.

It was perhaps only natural that in time of peace a brave knight like
Acton should turn his thoughts from war to love-making, and therefore I
shall make no excuse for relating a little experience of his which
must be introduced as a prelude to the account of the formation of the
famous supper club.

At the very commencement of the summer term it was plain to everybody
that something was wrong with the dux; he seemed to take no interest in
the doings of his companions in the playground, and only once roused
himself sufficiently to bang Cross with a leg-guard for bowling awful
wides at cricket.

At length, one afternoon, Diggory and Jack Vance on entering the shed
found him sitting on the carpenter's bench, with his chin resting in his
hand, and a most ferocious expression on his face.

"Hullo! what's up?"

Acton stared blankly at the new-comers until the question had been
repeated; then he sat up and straightened his back with the air of one
who has made a great resolve.

"I don't mind telling you two," he said. "You know I've said before that
I meant some day to propose to Miss Eleanor. Well," he added, stabbing
the bench with the gimlet, "I'm going to do it."

"I've saved five and ninepence," continued the speaker, "to buy a ring
with, but I can't make up my mind whether I'd better speak or write to
her. What do you think?"

"I should say," answered Diggory, after a moment's thought, "that the
best thing would be to toss up for it."

"All right; have you got a coin?"

"No, but I think I've got a brass button. Yes, here it is. Now, then,
front you speak, and back you write. There you are--it's a letter!"

"Well, now," said Acton, getting off the bench and sticking his hands
deep in his trousers pockets, "what had I better say? I shall be
fifteen in August; I thought I'd tell her my age, and say I didn't mind
waiting."

"I believe it's the girl who always says tha