dent's head, and observed,--

"Look out, Warminster; hand up that book, can't you--it's not yours."

My mother looked up, and Warminster meekly surrendered the book.

"'--Stop the noise. The club then adjourned, all except Sarah, who hung
on, contrary to the rules, and is hereby fined 2 shillings 6 pence.'"

"Oh, I say," protested I, "that's rather rough, isn't it?"

"'But,'" proceeded Langrish, "'owing to his mother coming up to buy him
off, he is hereby let off with a fie-- I mean a warning.'"

"Thank you so much," said my mother, gratefully.

"'When we thought he was pretty well warmed up, we sent Tempest in to
fish him out, which he accordingly did, and is hereby elected honorary
porter to the club, and is backed to win the Mile.'"

"That's the least he deserves, surely," said my mother, with feeling.

"'Sarah, owing to this unprincipled conduct, has been suspended for a
month, and the club hereby hopes some day not far off to see him sus--'
no, that's wrong--I mean--"

"Hung," suggested Trimble, in an audible whisper.

"Order--turn him out for saying hung, instead of hanged," said the
president.

"Shut up, can't you?" said the secretary, "can't you let me finish the
sentence? '--See him sus--susceptible of better emotions.'"

"Hear, hear," said the club, breathing again to see the corner turned.

"I hope that's not all," said my mother.

"That's as far as we've got; but we'll let him down easy in the next,"
said Langrish.

"The next will have the account of the Sports, I suppose," said my
mother.

"If our men win," said Warminster. "We're bound to win the High Jump if
Langrish keeps on his form; he did 4 feet 1 and a half inches this
afternoon."

"You needn't talk--you're all right for the 100 Yards," said the modest
Langrish; "there's no one in, except young Brown of the day cads, who
can touch you; and he's sure to go a mucker on the day."

"Don't be too sure of that," said I. "Dicky Brown doesn't go muckers if
he can help it."

"There you are--backing the town cads now. I move, and Mrs Jones
seconds, that Sarah be, and is hereby, kic--I mean sat upon by the
club."

"Oh, don't, please," said my mother, "the bed is not strong enough."

"All right--it's lucky for Sarah. If you were half a chap you'd see we
didn't lose the Quarter-mile. Rackstraw will have a look in at it, but
it'll puzzle him to beat Flitwick. Walsh is going to cut out for him.
So we may just do it; but it'll be a