* * * * *

"--disgraceful ... scandalous ... get _up_, Leather-Twigg ... not to
be trusted ... _babies_ ... three hundred lines, Leather-Twigg ...
abominable ... surprised ... ought to be ashamed of yourselves ...
_double_, Leather-Twigg ... not fit to have studies ... atrocious ...--"

Such were the main heads of Mr Seymour's speech on the situation as he
dabbed desperately at the soot on his face with his handkerchief.
Shoeblossom stood and gurgled throughout. Not even the thought of six
hundred lines could quench that dauntless spirit.

"Finally," perorated Mr Seymour, as he was leaving the room, "as you
are evidently not to be trusted with rooms of your own, I forbid you to
enter them till further notice. It is disgraceful that such a thing
should happen. Do you hear, Barry? And you, Drummond? You are not to
enter your studies again till I give you leave. Move your books down to
the senior day-room tonight."

And Mr Seymour stalked off to clean himself.

"Anyhow," said Shoeblossom, as his footsteps died away, "we saved the
sausages."

It is this indomitable gift of looking on the bright side that makes us
Englishmen what we are.