"Your father has written to me, Dunstable," he said, "to ask that you
may be allowed to go home on Wednesday instead of Thursday. I think
that, under the special circumstances, there will be no objection to
this. You had better see that the matron packs your boxes."

"Yes, sir," said Dunstable. "Good business," he added to himself, as
he left the room.

When he got back to his own den, he began to ponder over the matter,
to see if something could not be made out of it. That was Dunstable's
way. He never let anything drop until he had made certain that he had
exhausted all its possibilities.

Just before he went to bed he had evolved a neat little scheme for
scoring off Mr. Langridge. The knowledge of his plans was confined to
himself and the Headmaster. His dorm-master would imagine that he was
going to stay on till the last day of term. Therefore, if he
misbehaved himself in form, Mr. Langridge would set him lines in
blissful ignorance of the fact that he would not be there next day to
show them up. At the beginning of the following term, moreover, he
would not be in Mr. Langridge's form, for he was certain of his move
up.

He acted accordingly.

He spent the earlier part of Wednesday morning in breaches of the
peace. Mr. Langridge, instead of pulling him up, put him on to
translate; Dunstable went on to translate. As he had not prepared the
lesson and was not an adept at construing unseen, his performance was