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164 before a day-boy's mother. Bony old widow, too.' said M'Turk. 'Anything else you'd like to find out?' 'I don't care. I swear I'll get even with him some day,' Stalky growled.

' 'Looks like it,' said M'Turk. 'Extra-special, week's gatin' and five hundred. . . and now you're goin' to row about it! 'Help scrag him. Beetle!' Stalky had thrown his Virgil at them.

The Head returned next day without explanation, to find the lines waiting for him and the school a little relaxed under Mr. King's viceroyalty. Mr. King had been talking at and round and over the boys' heads, in a lofty and promiscuous style, of public-school spirit and the traditions of ancient seats; for he always improved an occasion. Beyond waking in two hundred and fifty young hearts a lively hatred of all other foundations, he accomplished little—so little, indeed, that when, two days after the Head's return, he chanced to come across Stalky & Co., gated but ever resourceful, playing marbles in the corridor, he said that he was not surprised—not in the least surprised. This was what he had expected from persons of their morale.

'But there isn't any rule against marbles, sir. Very interestin' game,' said Beetle, his knees white with chalk and dust. Then he received two hundred lines for insolence, besides an order to go to the nearest prefect for judgment and slaughter.

This is what happened behind the closed doors of Flint's study, and Flint was then Head of the Games:-