He had produced and proudly hung in a conspicuous place in his study a time-table, beautifully ruled and written in red and black ink, showing how each hour of every day in the week was to be spent in honest toil and well-earned sport.

He had explained to his friend the interesting fact that a duplicate of this table had been presented to his mother, who thereby would be able to tell at any moment how her dear son was occupied.
"Let's see," said he, proudly, taking out his watch.

"7.15.

Now what am I doing at 7.15 on Thursdays?
French preparation.

There you are! So if she's thinking about me now she knows what I'm up to." "But you're not doing French preparation," suggested Arthur.
"Of course I'm not, you ass.