Both the seniors had been fretting all the afternoon with a sense of something gone wrong at Grandcourt, the former with just a little indignation that he, the captain of the school, should be kept in the dark, along with everybody else, on the subject.

"I ought to work," said Brans...o...b..; "you go and _tell_ me what's up."

"Why, I thought you were as anxious as anyone to know?"

"So I am," said Brans...o...b.., who to do him justice looked thoroughly worried; "but you know while there's this row on between the two houses I--I don't care to go over there without being asked."

"_I_ asked you, didn't I?" said Smedley. "You're not afraid of being eaten up, are you? Never mind. I'll brave the wild beasts myself, and let you know how I get on."

It was the rule at Grandcourt that after dark no boy from one house might enter another without permission. Smedley therefore went straight to Railsford.

"May I go and see Ainger, please, sir?"

"Certainly. And, Smedley," said the master, as the captain retired, "look in here for a moment as you go out. I want to see you about the sports."

Smedley found Ainger alone, and heard from him a full, true, and particular account of the day's events.

The captain's wrath was unbounded.

"What!" he exclaimed, "cut all of you out of the sports and everything!

I say, Ainger, it must be stopped, I tell you. I'll go to the doctor."

"Might as well go to the unicorn over the gate," said Ainger.

"Can't you find the fellows?"

"That's just it. There's not even a fellow in the house I can suspect so far."

"You feel sure it's one of your fellows?"

"It couldn't be anyone else. Roe's and Grover's fellows never come over our side, and never have anything to do with Bickers. And it's hardly likely any of Bickers's fellows would have done it. In fact, ever since Bickers came in here the other night and thrashed one of our fellows, the two houses have been at daggers drawn."

"So Brans...o...b.. said. He didn't seem to care about coming in with me. I asked him."

"I don't wonder. Some of the young fools down there would give him a hot reception for no other reason than that he belongs to Bickers's house."

"I don't fancy he's proud of that distinction," said Smedley, laughing.

"But, I say, can't anything be done?"

"Nothing; unless Railsford can do anything."

"Railsford asked me to go in and see him. Come, too, old man."

But Railsford had nothing to suggest. He explained dejectedly the effect of the doctor's sentence. It meant that his house was out of everything in the playing-fields; and that, as for himself, he was as much excluded as his boys. And he confirmed Ainger's opinion that it was utterly useless to appeal further to the doctor.

"It would be only fair, sir," said Smedley, "for you to take back the prize and subscription you offered for the sports."

"Certainly not, my dear fellow," said the master. "If I cannot take part in the sports in person, at least I would like to have some finger in the pie."

That was all that pa.s.sed.

"I like Railsford," said Smedley; "he's genuinely cut up."

"It's awfully rough on him," replied Ainger.

The two friends said good-bye.

"By the way, Smedley," said Ainger, calling the captain back, "I may as well tell you, we are going to have our revenge for all this."

"What!" said Smedley, rather alarmed. "Surely you're not going to--"

"To roast the doctor? No. But we're going to make this the crack house of the school in spite of him."

Smedley laughed.

"Good! You've a busy time before you, old man. I'll promise to keep it dark--ha! ha!"

"You may think it a joke, dear old chap," said Ainger, standing at the door and watching his retreating figure, "but even the captain of Grandcourt will have to sit up by-and-by."

Smedley, the brave and impetuous, walked straight from Railsford's to the doctor's. He knew his was a useless mission, but he wasn't going to shirk it. The doctor would snub him and tell him to mind his own affairs; "but"--so said the hero to himself--"what do I care? I'll tell him a piece of my mind, and if he like to tell me a piece of his, that's only fair. Here goes!"

The doctor was engaged in his study, said the servant; but if Mr Smedley would step into the drawing-room he would come in a few minutes.

Smedley stepped into the dimly-lighted drawing-room accordingly, which, to his consternation, he found already had an occupant. The doctor's niece was at the piano.

Smedley, for once in a way, behaved like a coward, and having advanced a step or two into the room, suddenly turned tail and retreated.

"Don't go, Mr Smedley," said a pleasant voice behind him. "Uncle will be here in a minute."

"Oh, I--good-evening, Miss Violet. I'm afraid of--"

"Not of me, are you? I'll go if you like," said she, laughing, "and then you'll have the room to yourself."

"Oh no, please. I didn't mean that. Won't you play or sing something, Miss Violet?"

So Miss Violet sang "Cherry Ripe," and then, the doctor not having yet put in an appearance, Smedley asked if she would mind playing the accompaniment of "Down among the Dead Men," as he would like to try it over.

The young lady cheerfully complied, and when presently the head-master stalked into the room he was startled, and possibly a little amused, to be met with the defiant shout of his head boy,--

"And he that will this health deny, Down among the dead men--down among the--"

He was shaking his fist above his head, after the fashion of the song at the school suppers, when he suddenly stopped short at the sight of the doctor, and realised the horror of the situation.

"Go on, Mr Smedley," said Miss Violet, "finish the verse. We shan't be a moment, uncle."

But Smedley could as soon have finished that verse as fly up the chimney. So the doctor's niece finished it for him, and then, with a "Good-night, Mr Smedley; thank you very much for the song," she tripped out of the room, leaving the hero to his fate.

It was not a very terrible fate after all.