ed boys of Willoughby.

Parliament did not adjourn till a late hour that evening, and no one was
particularly sorry when it did.

CHAPTER NINE.

A SCIENTIFIC AFTERNOON IN WELCH'S.

"Pil," said Cusack, a few days after the unfortunate end to that
gentleman's "motion" in Parliament--"Pil, it strikes me we can do pretty
much as we like these times. What do you think?"

"Well, I don't know," said Pil, meditatively; "I got a pot from Coates
to-day for playing fives against the schoolhouse door."

"Oh yes; of course, if you fool about out of doors you'll get potted.
What I mean is, indoors here there's no one to pull us up that I can
see."

"Oh! I see what you mean," said Pil. "Yes, you're about right there."

"Gully, you know," continued Cusack--"Gully's no good as master of a
house; he's always grubbing over his books. Bless his heart! it doesn't
matter to him whether we cut one another's throats!"

"Not it! I dare say he'd be rather glad if we did," replied Pilbury.

"Then there's Tucker. No fear of his reporting us, eh!"

"Rather not! when he's always breaking rules himself, and slinking down
to Shellport, and kicking up rows with the other chaps. What do you
think I found in his brush-and-comb bag the other day? Thirteen cigar-
ends! He goes about collecting them in Shellport, I suppose, and
finishes them up on the quiet."

"Oh, he's a beast!" said Cusack. "And old Silk's about as bad. He
doesn't care a bit what we do as long as he enjoys himself. Don't
suppose he'd be down on us, do you?"

"No fear! He might pot us now and then for appearances' sake, but he
wouldn't report us, I guess."

"And suppose he did," said Cusack; "the new captain's as big a muff as
all the lot of them put together. He's afraid to look at a chap.
Didn't you hear what he did to the Parrett's kids the other day?"

"Yes; didn't I!" exclaimed Pilbury. "He let them all off, and begged
their pardons or something. But I'm jolly glad Parrett was down on
them. He's stopped their river-play, and they won't be able to show up
at the regatta."

"I'm jolly glad!" said Cusack; "chaps like them deserve to catch it,
don't they, Pil?"

"Rather!" replied Pilbury.

A silence ensued, during which both heroes were doubtless meditating
upon the unexampled iniquities of the Parrett juniors.

Presently Pilbury observed somewhat dolefully, "Beastly slow, isn't it,
Cusack?"

"What's beastly slow?"

"Oh, everything! No fun