Todd."

"Good night, sir."

Todd packed up his portmanteaux that night as gloomily and as savagely as
though his shirts were his deadly enemies. But there was a square,
determined thrust-out of his weak chin which boded ill for Jim Cotton's
classics and mathematics in the future.




CHAPTER VIII

BIFFEN'S CONCERT


It was the inalienable right of the juniors of the cock-house to give a
concert the last night of the term, and to have free and undisputed
possession of the concert-room. Corker made it a rule that the captain of
the school should be there to see there were no riots, which, as the fags
were off home on the morrow, was more than possible. So when I got a
polite note from Grim about half an hour after the results of the Perry
Exhibition had been announced, telling me that Corker had given the
customary consent, I strolled about looking up a cohort of monitors to
help me in maintaining the "sacred cause of order and decency." I knew of
old those junior concerts. "Pandemonium" was nearer the word.

Biffen's juniors, red-hot from their exertions and hoarse from their
shouting in the speech-room, held a meeting in their own private quarters