arks. Desmond and John joined in
this hunt of the right word with enthusiasm.

One evening the four boys encountered the simple sentence--"_majoris
pretii quam quod aestimari possit_."

"'Priceless' 'll cover that," said Caesar.

"Or 'inest_ee_mable,'" said the Demon.

The three other boys stared at the Demon, and then at each other. The
Caterpillar, something of a purist in his way, drawled out--

"One pronounces that 'inestimable.'"

"My father doesn't," said Scaife, hotly. "I've heard him say
'inesteemable.'"

"No doubt," said Egerton, coldly. "How does _your_ father pronounce
it, Caesar?"

Desmond said hurriedly, "Oh, 'inestimable;' but what does it matter?"

The Demon sprang up, furious. "It matters this," he cried. "I'm
d----d if I'll have Egerton sitting in my room sneering at my governor.
After this he'll do his work in his own room, or I'll do mine in the
passage."

Before Desmond could speak, Scaife had whirled out of the room,
slamming the door. John looked stupefied with dismay.

The Caterpillar shrugged his shoulders. Then he said slowly--

"Scaife's father pronounces 'connoisseur' 'connoysure,' and so does
Scaife."

Desmond stood up, flushed and distressed, but emphatic.

"Scaife is right about one thing," ha said. "He won't sit here like a
cad and listen to Egerton sneering at his father. I'm very sorry, but
after this we'd better split up. Verney and you, Egerton; and Scaife
and I."

"Certainly," said the Caterpillar, rising in his turn.

Poor John cast a distracted and imploring glance at Desmond, which
flashed by unheeded. Then he got up, and followed the Caterpillar out
of the room. The passage was empty.

The Caterpillar sniffed as if the atmosphere in Scaife's room had been
polluted.

"One has nothing to regret," he remarked. "Scaife has good points,
and--er--bad. You've noticed his hands--eh? _Very_ unfinished! And
his foot--short, but broad." The Caterpillar surveyed his long,
slender feet with infinite satisfaction; then he added, with an accent
of finality, "Scaife talks about going into the Grenadiers; but they'll
give him a hot time there, a very hot time. One is really sorry for
the poor fellow, because, of course, he can't help being a bounder.
What does puzzle me is, why did Caesar want such a fellow for his pal?"

"But he didn't," said John.

"Eh?--what?"

"Scaife wanted Caesar," John explained. "And I've noticed,
Caterpillar, that whatever