on was complete.

"Why, that's one of the mottoes in the Quad," said Aspinall, wondering
what on earth this had to do with Heathcote's rows. "I always fancied
it meant, 'He rules best, who knows how to rule himself.'"

"Which is the word for best," asked Dick, critically, rather pleased to
have found a flaw in the motto.

"Oh, I suppose it's understood," said Aspinall.

"Why couldn't he say what he meant, straight out?" said Dick, waxing
wondrous wroth at the motto-maker, "there's plenty of room in the Quad
for an extra word."

Aspinall quite blushed at this small explosion, and somehow felt
personally implicated in the defects of the motto.

"Perhaps I'm wrong," said he. "Perhaps it means a fellow can't rule at
all, unless he can rule himself."

"That won't wash," said Dick, profoundly. "Where's the '_nisi_?' Never
mind. Good-night, young Aspinall. I'm going to do my work here."

And Aspinall departed, a good deal exercised in his mind as to Dick's
latest humour, but thankful, all the same, that he didn't appear
desperately offended with the answers he had extorted to his very home
questions.

Dick did not do much "swot" that evening. He couldn't get the ghost out
of his head, nor the slovenly Latin prose of the old Templeton motto-
writer.

"Qui in se dominatur." What Latin! Dick pulled down Cresswell's
dictionary and looked up "se" and "dominatur," and wished he had the
fellow there to tell him he ought to be ashamed of himself. Why, it
might mean "who is ruled by his inside!" Perhaps it did mean that.

But no, Dick couldn't get out of the hobble he was in. He tried every
way, but the right way. He denounced the ghost, he denounced Heathcote,
he denounced the Latin grammar, but they always sent him back to where
he started; until, finally, in sheer desperation, he had to denounce
himself.

He was just beginning this congenial occupation, in as comfortable an
attitude as he could, in Cresswell's easy-chair, when the study door
opened, and Braider entered.

"Hallo! You're here, are you?" said that youth. "Why ever didn't you
come before? I told you to be in the Quad, and I'd call for you; didn't
I? You've got in a nice mess!"

Here was another candid friend going to tell him he'd got into a mess!

"What mess? Who with?"

"Why, with the Club. They elected you by a close shave, and expected
you'd come in. I yelled all over the place for you, and couldn't find
you. So they thought