Gus looked blankly into the grate.

"This exhibition of yours, Todd, in the examination is just the answer you might expect to the problem you've set yourself. 'How can I get something of value by doing nothing for it?' I must say... etc." Taylor spoke very much to the point to Todd for about half an hour, taking the ribs out of Gus's conceit one by one, until he felt very much like a damp, damaged gamp, and about as helpless. One by one he took him through the catalogue of the aimless, stupid, footling performances in the term, and Gus blankly wondered how the d.i.c.kens Taylor knew quite so much of his doings, He felt that the house master was not a bad imitation of Corker on a flaying expedition. I must say that Taylor's performance was a considerable trifle above the average "beak's wigging," but the sting of his discourse was in the tail. "Now, Todd, would you like me to ask Dr. Moore to transfer you to some other house, where your very intimate friends will not absorb so much of your time?"

Todd blushed purple at this very broad hint.

"I'd rather stay where I am; I am not quite an incapable, sir."

"No; I don't think you are--not quite. Dr. Moore, however, is somewhat out of patience with you, and proposes drastic measures."

"Home?" inquired Todd, with gloomy conviction.

"Yes," said the house master. "Dr. Moore has written your father. But you are coming back next term, when you will have the chance of showing that that awful performance in the Exhibition is not your true form. I hope you'll take it."

Todd said bitterly, "I will, sir."

"I am glad of that," said Taylor, "and I believe you will. Good night, Todd."

"Good night, sir."

Todd packed up his portmanteaux that night as gloomily and as savagely as though his shirts were his deadly enemies. But there was a square, determined thrust-out of his weak chin which boded ill for Jim Cotton's cla.s.sics and mathematics in the future.

CHAPTER VIII

BIFFEN'S CONCERT

It was the inalienable right of the juniors of the c.o.c.k-house to give a concert the last night of the term, and to have free and undisputed possession of the concert-room. Corker made it a rule that the captain of the school should be there to see there were no riots, which, as the f.a.gs were off home on the morrow, was more than possible. So when I got a polite note from Grim about half an hour after the results of the Perry Exhibition had been announced, telling me that Corker had given the customary consent, I strolled about looking up a cohort of monitors to help me in maintaining the "sacred cause of order and decency." I knew of old those junior concerts. "Pandemonium" was nearer the word.

Biffen's juniors, red-hot from their exertions and hoa.r.s.e from their shouting in the speech-room, held a meeting in their own private quarters to deliberate as to their concert.

"I vote Father Grim to the chair," said Wilson.

"Thanks, my son," said Grim, with alacrity "Somebody second that, and let's get to business."

Somebody obligingly seconded, and Grim enthroned himself with dignity in the chair, and said cheerfully, "Carried _nem. con._ That's the way to commence biz. Now, you fellows, I thank you for this unexpected honour, which has quite taken me by surprise. I shall always--"

"Shut up, Grim," said Brown. "You know jolly well you asked Wilson to propose you."

"All right, Brown; I'll talk with you afterwards. Sorry your Roman nose is out of joint; but n.o.body proposed you, you know, so shut up. Gentlemen--"

"Hear, hear!"

"Biffen's are c.o.c.k-house at last" (deafening cheers) "and we must make our concert a stunner. It must go with a bang from start to finish. It must lick every other f.a.g's concert that ever was, and 'be the bright harbinger of--' What is the rest of the quote, Wilson?"

"'Of future joys,' you a.s.s."

"'Of future joys,' you a.s.ses."

"I'll punch your head, Grim; you said you remembered it."

"All serene, old man, never mind the cackle."

"What about our concert?" asked Brown.

"It's going to be great. Does any one happen to have a programme of that awful performance of Corker's house last year?"

"Rather!" said half a dozen of Biffen's ornaments. "Did you think we'd burn a curiosity like that?"

"Cut out and get yours, Rogers, my pet."

"My pet" bolted and came back with the year-old programme of the Corker's f.a.gs.

"Pa.s.s the abomination this way, Rogers. Gentlemen," said Grim, with intense scorn, "those unspeakable Corker a.s.ses started off with a prologue."

"We must go one better--eh, you fellows?" said Rogers.

"Rather!" they all shrieked.

"I vote," said young Cherry, "that we lead off with an epilogue. That will leave 'em standing."

"Hear, hear!" said Fruity.

"Who'll second that?" said Grim.

"I will," said Rogers, cheerfully.

"Then do it, you a.s.s," said the chairman.

"I second," said Rogers, hurriedly, "and you needn't be so beastly strict, Grim."

"Gentlemen, the proposal before the meeting is that we lead off with an epilogue. Item number one on the programme to be 'An Epilogue.' Those in favour signify. Carried unanimously."

"I say, Grim, what is an epilogue, anyhow?" said a voice.

"Oh, I say," said the chairman, "pa.s.s that young ignoramus this way. Lamb, do you mean to say you don't know what an epilogue is?"

"No, I don't."

"This is sickening," said Grim, with disgust. "A fellow in Biffen's not know what an epilogue is! Tell him, Fruity," he added, with pathetic vexation.

"He asked you," said Cherry, hurriedly.

"I'm the chairman," said Grim, in a wax, but with great relief. "Explain away, Fruity!"

"Oh, every first-cla.s.s concert starts with one," he said vaguely.