Ainger, Barnworth, Stafford, and Felgate, requesting the pleasure of their company at 7.30 in the new master's rooms.

The messenger had an easy task, for, oddly enough, he found the four gentlemen in question assembled in Ainger's study.

They were, in fact, discussing their new house-master when his four little missives were placed in their hands.
"What's the joke now, Mercury ?" asked Barnworth.
The messenger, who certainly was not nicknamed Mercury on account of the rapidity of his motions or the volatility of his spirits, replied, "I dunno; but I don't see why one letter shouldn't have done for the lot of yer.

He's flush with his writing-paper if he isn't with his pounds, shillings and pence!" "Oh, he's not tipped you, then?
Never mind, I'm sure it wasn't your fault!" Mercury, in private, turned this little sally over in his mind, and came to the conclusion that Mr Barnworth was not yet a finished pupil in manners.

Meanwhile the four letters were being opened and perused critically.
"`_Dear Ainger_'-- one would think he'd known me all my life!" said Ainger.
"`_I shall be so glad if you will look in at my rooms_,'" read Barnworth.