flock.

At the time when our story commences the ground was covered with snow;
but Acton was equal to the occasion, and as soon as dinner was over,
ordered all hands to come outside and make a slide.

The garden was on a steep slope, along the bottom of which ran the brick
wall bounding one side of the playground; a straight, steep path lay
between this and the house, and the youthful dux, with his usual
disregard of life and limb, insisted on choosing this as the scene of
operations.

"What!" he cried, in answer to a feeble protest on the part of Mugford,
"make it on level ground? Of course not, when we've got this jolly hill
to go down; not if I know it. We'll open the door at the bottom, and go
right on into the playground."

"But how if any one goes a bit crooked, and runs up against the bricks?"

"Well, they'll get pretty well smashed, or he will. You must go
straight; that's half the fun of the thing--it'll make it all the more
exciting. Come on and begin to tread down the snow."

Without daring to show any outward signs of reluctance, but with
feelings very much akin to those of men digging their own graves before
being shot, the company set about putting this fearful project into
execution. In about half an hour the slide was in good working order,
and then the fun began.

Mugford, and one or two others whose prudence exceeded their valour,