Fisher
minor, returning breathless, with a candle and matches, encountered
them.

"Come on, you chaps," said Wally. "I'd give sixpence to see how they
look when they find we've gone--ha! ha!"

They salved their honour with a keen sense of the humour of the
situation, and followed their host across the Green in the dark, not at
all sorry to have a harbour of refuge in sight, though very loth to
admit that this rearward movement was a retreat.

At the door of Wakefield's, to their consternation, they met Ranger.

"What on earth are all you youngsters up to at this hour?"

"It's all right," said Wally. "The shop committee, you know. We're
going to talk things over in my room. Come on, you Modern kids. We'll
make an exception for you this once, and let you into Wakefield's; won't
we, Ranger? But it mustn't occur again."

Yet another peril awaited them before they were safe in port. This time
it was Mr Stratton on the stairs.

"Ah, here you are--all of you," said he. "I came to look for you. I
want to hear how the shop is doing."

"Very well, thank you, sir. I say, Mr Stratton," said Wally, with a
presence of mind which moved the admiration of his friends, "would you
mind coming to a committee meeting in my and my chaps' room! We can
show you the things we want ordered next week, if you don't mind."

"Certainly; I'll come. I'm delighted to find you're sticking so well to
the business."

And so it happened that when at last Percy's door succumbed, and the
besiegers rushed in, vowing vengeance and slaughter, to find the room
empty, the nine innocents were sitting prettily round the table in
Wally's room with Mr Stratton in the chair, deciding that until
November was out it would be premature to order oranges for the
Fellsgarth shop.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

HAWK'S PIKE.

Victory has its drawbacks, like everything else. The brilliant retreat
of the Modern juniors and their auxiliaries under the enemy's fire was
all very well as a strategic movement. But when it came to deciding
what to do next, the difficulties of the situation became painfully
apparent.

Mr Stratton stayed half an hour chatting over the shop affairs, and
then rose to go.

"Good night, boys. It's time for Mr Forder's boys to be back in their
house."

This unpleasant reminder had a very damping effect on the conviviality
of the party generally. As soon as the master had gone, Wally said--

"It strikes me you Modern kids a