Heathcote came in for a similar trial on account of his blushes, and
poor Aspinall positively staggered, and finally broke down under
allusions to the "bottle," and "soothing syrup," and "mamma" and "sister
Lottie."

The Sixth had the sense not to attempt to quell the disorder till it had
had a fair chance of blowing itself off. Then Pontifex ordered the
names to be put into a hat, and handed round for each of the monitors to
draw. Each monitor accordingly drew, and announced the name of his
future fag. In the first round Heathcote's name and Aspinall's both
came up--the former, much to his disgust, falling to the lot of Pledge,
the latter to that of Cresswell. Dick boiled with excitement as the hat
started on its second round. Suppose he, too, should fall to the lot of
a cad like Pledge, or a brute like Bull! Or, oh blissful notion!
suppose Cresswell should draw him, too, as well as Aspinall.

The hat started; Pontifex drew a stranger; so did Mansfield. Then
Cresswell drew, and, with a bound of delight, Dick heard his own name,
and marked the gleam of pleasure which crossed his new master's face as
he turned towards him. He forgot all about his legs, he even missed
Heathcote's doleful look of disappointment, or the thankful sigh of
young Aspinall. He felt as if something good had happened to him, and
as if his star were still in the ascendant.

At the end of the Elections a cry of "three groans for fagging!" was
proposed by some member of the Den, who took care to keep himself well
concealed, and, as usual, was lustily responded to by all the interested
parties. Which little demonstration being over, Pontifex announced that
the meeting was over, and that "captain's levee" would be held on that
day week at 5:30.

Our heroes were promptly kidnapped, as they descended from the platform,
by the emissaries of the Den, who hurried them off to the serene
atmosphere of that dignified assembly, where, for an hour or more, they
took part in denouncing everybody and everything, and assisted in a
noble flow of patriotic eloquence on the duty of the oppressed towards
the oppressor, and the slave towards his driver. The Sixth, meanwhile,
rather glad to have Elections over, strolled off to their own quarters.

"More row than ever this year," said Mansfield, as he followed Cresswell
into his study. "Ponty's too easy-going."

"I don't know. If you keep them in too tight they'll burst. I think
he's right to give t