They imagined--rightly or wrongly--that some stag beetles
were much faster than others. A little boy called Bell possessed the
stag beetle which was the favourite for the coming races. Another boy
called Mason was consumed with longing for this stag beetle; and Bell
had said he would give it to him in exchange for Mason's catapult, which
was famous in the school for the unique straightness of its two prongs.
Mason went to the boy who gave good advice and asked him for his
opinion. "Don't swap it for your catty," said the boy who gave good
advice, "because Bell's stag beetle may not win after all; and even if
it does stag beetles won't be the rage for very long; but a catty is
always a catty, and yours is the best in the school." Mason took the
advice. When the races came off, the stag beetles were so erratic that
no prize was awarded, and they immediately ceased to be the rage. The
rage for stag beetles was succeeded by a rage for secret alphabets. One
boy invented a secret alphabet made of simple hieroglyphics, which
was imparted only to a select few, who spent their spare time in
corresponding with each other by these cryptic signs. The boy who gave
good advice was not of those initiated into the mystery of the cypher,
and he longed to be. He made several overtures, but they were all
rejected, the reason being that boys of the second division could not
let a "third division squit" into their secret. At last the boy who
gave good advice offered to one of the initiated the whole of his stamp
collection in return for the secret of the alphabet. This offer was
accepted. The boy took the stamp collection, but the boy who gave
good advice received in return not the true alphabet but a sham
one especially manufactured for him. This he found out later; but
recriminations were useless; besides which the rage for secret alphabets
soon died out and was replaced by a rage for aquariums, newts, and
natterjack toads.

The boy went to a public school. He was a fag. His fag-master had two
fags. One morning the other fag came to the boy who gave good advice and
said: "Clarke (he was the fag-master) told me three days ago to clean
his football boots. He's been 'staying out' and hasn't used them, and
I forgot. He'll want them to-day, and now there isn't time. I shall
pretend I did clean them."

"No, don't do that," said the boy who gave good advice, "because if
you say you have cleaned them he will lick you twice as much for having
cl