CHAPTER NINE.
A SCIENTIFIC AFTERNOON IN WELCH'S.
"Pil," said Cusack, a few days after the unfortunate end to that gentleman's "motion" in Parliament--"Pil, it strikes me we can do pretty much as we like these times.

What do you think ?" "Well, I don't know," said Pil, meditatively; "I got a pot from Coates to-day for playing fives against the schoolhouse door." "Oh yes; of course, if you fool about out of doors you'll get potted.
What I mean is, indoors here there's no one to pull us up that I can see." "Oh! I see what you mean," said Pil.

"Yes, you're about right there." "Gully, you know," continued Cusack--"Gully's no good as master of a house; he's always grubbing over his books.

Bless his heart! it doesn't matter to him whether we cut one another's throats!" "Not it! I dare say he'd be rather glad if we did," replied Pilbury.
"Then there's Tucker.

No fear of his reporting us, eh!" "Rather not! when he's always breaking rules himself, and slinking down to Shellport, and kicking up rows with the other chaps.