unpleasant habit of coming down with both feet, as it were, on members
of his form who failed in the book-papers.

We were working, therefore, under forced draught, and it was distinctly
annoying to see the wretched Bradshaw lounging in our only armchair
with one of Rider Haggard's best, seemingly quite unmoved at the
prospect of Euripides examinations. For all he appeared to care,
Euripides might never have written a line in his life.

Kendal voiced the opinion of the meeting.

'Bradshaw, you worm,' he said. 'Aren't you going to do _any_
work?'

'Think not. What's the good? Can't get up a whole play of Euripides in
two hours.'

'Mellish'll give you beans.'

'Let him.'

'You'll get a jolly bad report.'

'Shan't get a report at all. I always intercept it before my guardian
can get it. He never says anything.'

'Mellish'll probably run you in to the Old Man,' said White, the fourth
occupant of the study.

Bradshaw turned on us with a wearied air.