that change so frequent in boys as they grow older, to which Eric was so sad an exception.  Accordingly Duncan, though sincerely fond of Eric, had latterly disapproved vehemently of his proceedings, and had therefore taken to snubbing his old friend Wildney, in whose favor Eric seemed to have an infatuation, and who was the means of involving him in every kind of impropriety and mischief.  So that night Duncan, hearing of what was intended, sat in the next study, and Eric, with Bull, Wildney, Graham, and Pietrie, had the room to themselves.  Several of them were lower boys still, but they came to the studies after bed-time, according to Wildney’s almost nightly custom.

A little pebble struck the study window.

“Hurrah!” said Wildney, clapping his hands, “here’s the grub.”

They opened the window and looked out.  Billy was there, and they let down to him a long piece of cord, to which he attached a basket, and, after bidding them “Good night, and a merry drink,” retired.  No sooner had they shut the window, than he grimaced as usual towards them, and shook his fist in a sort of demoniacal exultation, muttering, “Oh, I’ll have you all under my thumb yet, you fine young fools!”

Meanwhile the unconscious boys had opened the basket, and spread its contents on the table.  They were, bread, a large dish of sausages, a tart, beer, and, alas! a bottle of brandy.

They soon got very noisy, and at last uproarious.  The snatches of songs, peals of laughter, and rattle of plates, at last grew so loud that the other study-boys were afraid lest one of the masters should come up and catch the revellers.  All of them heard every word that was spoken by Eric and his party as the walls between the rooms were very thin; and very objectionable much of the conversation was.

“This won’t do,” said Duncan emphatically, after a louder burst of merriment than usual; “those fellows are getting drunk; I can tell it to a certainty from the confused and random way in which some of them are talking.”

“We’d better go in and speak to them,” said Montagu; “at any rate, they’ve no right to disturb us all night.  Will you come?”

“I’ll join you,” said Owen; “though I’m afraid my presence won’t do you much good.”

The three boys went to the door of Eric’s study, and their knock could not at first be heard for the noise.  When they went in they found a scene of reckless disorder; books were scattered about, plates and glasses lay broken on the floor, beer was spilt on all sides, and there was an intolerable smell of brandy.

“If you fellows don’t care,” said Duncan, sharply, “Rose or somebody’ll be coming up and catching you.  It’s ten now.”

“What’s that to you?” answered Graham, with an insolent look.

“It’s something to me that you nice young men have been making such a row that none of the rest of us can hear our own voices, and that, between you, you’ve made this study in such a mess that I can’t endure it.”