unprepared for. It was true that the
Philosophers, in their desire not to be interfered with by the new
captain, had made a point of applying, as they were entitled to do, to
any of the other prefects of the house in preference to Crofter for
_exeats_ and occasional leave to go without bounds. It had always been
considered the prerogative of the captain of the house to grant these;
but, strictly speaking, the other prefects had the right too. I tried
to explain as much.

"Of course," said he, "it is a very neat way of ignoring my authority.
I expect you to come to me. I shall not refuse any reasonable request,
but I'm not going to be insulted in my own house."

"But--" said I.

"There is no 'but' about it. If you want to prevent your being shown up
to your friend as an amiable young swindler, you can stop it by
undertaking that you and your lot will do what I tell you. If not, it
is your own look-out, that's all."

Luckily the school bell enabled me to get away without giving any
pledge. Fool as I was, I knew what all this meant. It was an attempt
to buy us all over at the cost of that unlucky shilling, and with it to
secure Crofter in the authority which he so dearly coveted, but so far
so imperfectly enjoyed.

The Philosophers, as might be expected, waxed very indignant when I made
a clean breast of the whole matter. With their usual frankness they
quite admitted that I might have pilfered the shilling. That sort of
thing, they remarked, was quite in my line, and in keeping with my
character generally; and they hoped to live to see me hung. But as to
caving in to Crofter as the cost of my shelter, they drew the line at
that. He had no right to impose new rules, or take away the immemorial
privileges of the "Sharpers." Besides, if they gave in on this point,
they would immediately have to go and ask his leave to practise for the
Sports in Callow Meadow, which was just out of bounds, and where, in
strict seclusion, diligent practice had been going on for a week, with
most promising results.

I was thereupon ordered to write a laconic rejoinder to the tempting
offer, the Philosophers promising to back me up in the matter of the
shilling and see me through it.

With a heavy heart, therefore, I sat down and penned the following brief
epistle, which was approved by the faggery and ordered to be laid on
Crofter's table before bed-time.

"Dear Crofter,--We all think it's not good enough. It's all a lie