d barely been worth living.

It was this last grievance which was the special topic of discussion at
an informal tea-party held, about a week after the Rockshire match, in
Parson's study.

The company solaced their wounded feelings with unlimited bloater-paste
and red-currant jam, and under the soothing influence of these
condiments, aided by the watery contents of Parson's teapot, their
sorrows found relief in words.

"I bet anything he pitched on Eutropius," said Parson, with his cup to
his lips, "because he knows nobody ever wrote a crib to him."

"I don't suppose any one could make him out enough," said King. "It's
awful rot."

"Yes, and Ashley says it's awfully bad Latin."

Parson laughed satirically.

"Jolly lot they care what sort of Latin it is as long as they can do us
over it."

"I believe," said Bosher, "Gilks has a key to Todhunter."

"He has? Young Telson had better collar it, then," said King, whose
opinions on the laws of property as regarded cribs were lax.

"Bah! What's the use of bothering?" cried Parson, pouring himself out
his eighth cup of tea. "If he pulls me up for not doing the beastly
things I shall tell him they're too hard, straight out."

"Tell him it's jolly gross conduct," cried a voice at the door, followed
immediately by Telson, who, contrary to all rules, had slipped across to
pay a friendly visit.

He was welcomed with the usual rejoicing, and duly installed at the
festive board.

"It's all right if I am caught," said he. "Gilks sent me a message to
Wibberly, and I just dropped in here on the way. I say, who's going to
lick, you or Welch's?"

"Welch's!" exclaimed the company, in general contempt. "It's like their
cheek to challenge us. We mean to give them a lesson."

"Mind you do," said Telson, "or it'll be jolly rough on Parrett's. No
end of a poor show you made at the Rockshire."

"Look here, Telson," said Parson, gravely, "suppose we don't talk about
that. We were just wondering if Gilks had got a key to Todhunter
somewhere."

Telson laughed.

"Wonder if he hadn't! He's got more cribs than school books, I think."

"I say," said King, most persuasively, "could you collar it, do you
think, old man!"

"Eh? No," said Telson; "I draw the line at that sort of thing, you
know."

"Well, then," said King, evidently in a state of desperate mental
agitation, "could you ever find out the answer for Number 13 in Exercise
8, and let me know it in the morni