n terrific, the effect stupendous.

It was in the true spirit of the saga.

A moment later Spots dashed into the room. "What the devil's all that
row?" he roared.

Everyone was peacefully in his cubicle, putting the last touch to his
packing or getting into bed.

"Randall's trying to be funny," suggested Neave.

"But didn't you shout?"

"Well, we helped a bit. That din would have made anyone squeal.
Randall's must have been breaking china for the sake of their dirty
pot. They are swine."

Spots looked baffled. The row had been tremendous, yet here everybody
was calm and quiet. It must have been Randall's, but they were still
at their supper. It was amazing, it was a miracle. To save his face
he returned to his study.

Meanwhile it was ascertained that, after some confusion, Toffee Randall
had continued his speech: then they heard the long-drawn, surging roar
of "Auld Lang Syne." It took Randall's twenty minutes to finish "Auld
Lang Syne."

"The swine," said Neave. He said it often, but he said it beautifully,
with a whining drawl of contempt. "Just wait till they get to their
dormies."

So they waited, and presently the pandemonium began. Randall's were
discovering that not a bed had escaped, not a jug remained. As they
looked out of their windows on to the gym roof they realised the full
meaning of the battle-cry and the crash that had startled them at their
supper.

"Water, water everywhere," cried Cullen in ecstasy as he heard the
tumult rising in the neighbouring house. Randall's, flushed rather
with insolence than the weak claret-cup of their supper, bellowed in
their dormitories and shouted from their windows: after all none but
Berney's could have done the deed. It was sheer joy for Berney's as
they listened: wisely they made no answer and Randall's cried aloud in
vain.

Again Spots came into the lower dormy. "What are Randall's shouting
about?" he asked.

"Joy of life," said Neave. "The swine."

"Well they needn't yell at us."

"They've got no manners, Leopard."

Spots advised his dormy to take no notice of the creatures and again
went out.

Shortly before midnight Mr Randall rang at Mr Berney's front door and
demanded an interview with the master of the house. Berney came down
in his dressing-gown: he was very tired and his eyes ached. He was
promptly informed by his raging neighbour that his house had disgraced
itself, and he listened to a strange story of soaked beds