is; and when I catch him I'll welt him. Do you hear?"

"Very good, sir, I'll tell him," said the porter with a grin.

Meanwhile Percy had opened the letter and caught sight of the signature.

He uttered a whistle of amazement.

"Hullo!" he cried, "it's from Stratton! Whatever--Oh, I say, Bob, it
doesn't matter about that message; do you hear!"

"Won't be no trouble, sir," said the porter.

"If I want to give it I'll do it myself," said Percy.

"Whatever's it about?" said his friends.

"Dear Wheatfield minor,"--(cheek!) read Percy, "Mrs Stratton and I will
be glad to see you and three or four of your friends to tea this evening
at six. I will arrange with Mr Forder to give you exeats from
preparation."

"Humph!" grunted Percy--"rather civil--I hear he gives rather good grub.
I vote we go."

"May as well. It gets us off preparation too," said Cash.

"Who said _you_ were in it?" replied Percy. "Catch me taking you unless
you behave. I've a good mind to take Clapperton and Brinkman and Dangle
and Fullerton."

This threat reduced the clan to obedience at once, and Percy sat down
presently, and wrote in his most admired style--

"Wheatfield major," (the "major" was heavily underlined) "is much
obliged to Mr Stratton for his invitation to him to tea in his room,
and he will be glad to bring the following of his friends, if he has no
objection, with him; viz. Lickford, Ramshaw, Cash, and Cottle. With
kind regards from P.W.;" and sent the note over by the hand of the
youngest of the Modern juniors.

This diversion served for a time to heal the mental ravages of the
morning, and to occupy the attention of the company most of the
afternoon.

"Case of Sunday-go-to-meeting, isn't it?" said lickford.

"Rather. Mind you tog up well, you chaps; I'm not going to take four
louts out to tea with me, I promise you."

Whereupon ensued great searchings of hearts and wardrobes, to see what
could be done in the way of appropriate decoration. The invitation came
at an awkward time, for it was Friday afternoon, and Mrs Wisdom rarely
sent home the washing before Saturday. Consequently it was a work of
some difficulty to muster five clean collars among the party, still less
as many shirt-fronts.

Lickford spent at least an hour over his last Sunday's shirt with ink-
eraser, trying to get it to look tidy; while Cottle, more ingenious,
neatly gummed pieces of white paper over the dirty spots on his.

A great discu