"I think your attitude in this matter is weak," said Prout, looking
round for support. "It would be really better to break up the
study--for a while--wouldn't it?"

"Oh, break it up by all means," said Macrae. "We shall see then if
Gillett's theory holds water."

"Be wise, Prout. Leave them alone, or calamity will overtake you; and
what is much more important, they will be annoyed with me. I am too
fat, alas! to be worried by bad boys. Where are you going?"

"Nonsense! They would not dare---but I am going to think this out,"
said Prout. "It needs thought. In intention they cribbed, and I must
think out my duty."

"He's perfectly capable of putting the boys on their honor. It's _I_
that am a fool." The Reverend John looked round remorsefully. "Never
again will I forget that a master is not a man. Mark my words," said
the Reverend John. "There will be trouble."


But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright.

Out of the blue sky (they were still rejoicing over the cat war) Mr.
Prout had dropped into Number Five, read them a lecture on the
enormity of cribbing, and bidden them return to the form-rooms on
Monday. They had raged, solo and chorus, all through the peaceful
Sabbath, for their sin was more or less the daily practice of all the
studies.