When he returned, the party in the hall was considerably enlarged, and Ferrers came towards him to wish him good-bye.

"Good-bye, Louis, I am coming back next half-year," he said, in a low tone; "and you must help me to regain my character." Louis squeezed his hand, and promised to write to him, though he hoped, he said, that he should not come back himself; and when Ferrers left the hall, the business of affixing the necessary directions went on very busily.

Reginald was in a state of such overflowing delight, as to be quite boisterous, and now and then burst out into snatches of noisy songs, rendered remarkably effective by an occasional squeak and grunt, which proclaimed his voice to be rather unmanageable.
"Now, Louis, here's a piece of string, and my knife.
'Christmas is coming again, my boys!'" "_Christmas_, Reginald--Midsummer!" cried Louis, laughing.
"Well then, ah, well! tie it tight.
'Midsummer's coming again, my boys, Jolly Midsummer, and all its joys; And we're all of us cracked, so we'll kick up a noise.
_Chorus_.

Ri-toorul-loor, rul-loor, rul-loor-rul.

Hip, hip, hurrah! Hollo!'" The sensible chorus was shouted at the utmost pitch of the voices of the assembled youths, who waved hats, hands, and handkerchiefs, during the process.
"Bravissimo!" exclaimed Reginald, quite red with his exertions, and beaming with excitement.