."

"Let's hear it," said my mother, "I dare say he deserves it."

I forgave the dear traitress for giving me away like this, for I felt
sure the minutes would save our evening.

"You see," said Trimble, "we try to keep it fair, so it's down on some
of the others too. But Sarah gets it a little the hottest."

"I'm used to getting things hot by now," said I; "forge ahead, and sit
where I can shy the pillow at you."

Whereupon Langrish moved his chair to a conspicuous place, and read,--

"'A meeting of the Ph.C.C. was held in dormitory on February 1, at 9
p.m.'"

"Why, that's when the fire was," said Trimble.

"Shut--I mean what's that got to do with it?" retorted the secretary.

"Well?" said my mother, taking a stitch or two at her needlework.

"'Owing to the side put on by the ex-president, who was lately, kicked
out for being a howling cad, and because he was down in form order--'"

"What a cram!" I interposed; "I was on the second desk, and should have
had you down weeks ago if I hadn't been laid up."

"Ha, ha, I like that--you! Did your _mater_ ever hear about _corpore_
being the ablative masculine, eh?"

"No, I never heard about that," said my mother.

"All right--Sarah will tell you--where was I, oh--down in form order,
though he's not quite such a crock as Coxhead, who is champion dunce in
Low Heath--"

"Me?" exclaimed Coxhead, warm with tea and indignation.

"There you are," said Langrish, "anybody but a champion dunce would have
said 'I.' You ask Sarah's _mater_ if they wouldn't."

"Well, _you_, if you like," said Coxhead; "what about it--"

"Look here, how can I read the minutes when--here we are--'crock as
Coxhead, who is champion dunce in Low Heath.'"

"What happened then?" said my mother, looking a little mixed.

"'He was shunted to an outside berth, and was out of it.'"

"I rather think I was in it," said I; "never mind."

"Oh, if you think so, all right. The minutes say you were out of it.
'He'd not begun to snore many minutes with deafening effect, when, as
might be expected, Jarman set fire to the show to stop the noise.'"

"Do you think that's why he did it, really?" asked Warminster.

"Look here, young Warminster. I don't _think_, I--"

"Pity you don't now and then," remarked the newly-elected president.

Langrish looked hard at his colleague, and then glanced at my mother,
whose face was bent over her work. Whereupon the secretary threw the
minute-book at the presi