school, as in this case, educates them. I prefer our own methods,' the chaplain concluded.
'You think it was that?' A lift of the Head's eyebrow.
'I'm sure of it! And nothing excuses his trying to give the College a bad name.'
'That's the line I mean to take with him,' the Head answered.
The Augurs winked.
•••••
A few days later the Reverend John called on Number Five. 'Why haven't we seen you before, Padre?' said they.
'I've been watching times and seasons and events and men—and boys,' he replied. 'I am pleased with my Tenth Legion. I make them my compliments. Clewer was throwing ink-balls in form this morning, instead of doing his work. He is now doing fifty lines for—unheard-of audacity.'
'You can't blame us, sir,' said Beetle. 'You told us to remove the—er—pressure. That's the worst of a fag.'
'I've known boys five years his senior throw ink-balls, Beetle. To such an one have I given two hundred lines—not so long ago. And now I come to think of it, were those lines ever shown up?'
'Were they, Turkey?' said Beetle unblushingly.
'Don't you think Clewer looks a little cleaner, Padre?' Stalky interrupted.
'We're no end of moral reformers,' said M'Turk.
