That's why I sent him to the gymnasium; it's closed to-day." "Hooray for the Cock-House!" shouted Ashby, as, side by side with his now admiring patron, he entered the School Hall, where the ceremony of club elections was just beginning.
At the door they encountered Wheatfield.
"Such games!" whispered D'Arcy, clapping him joyously on the back.
"We've got five Modern kids boxed up in our room, waiting for the clock to strike the half-hour before they have a tuck in at our empty jam- pots." "Ha, ha!" said Wheatfield; "splendid joke!" and vanished.
D'Arcy's countenance suddenly turned pale as he gripped his companion by the arm.
"What's the matter ?" inquired Ashby, alarmed for his friend's health.
"What's up ?" "It's all up! We're regularly done.

My, that _is_ a go!" "Whatever do you mean ?" "Why, you blockhead, didn't you see that was the wrong Wheatfield--not Wally, but the Modern one! And now he's gone to let those chaps out, and we're clean done for!" "Whew! what is to be done ?" groaned Ashby, almost as pale as his friend..