proudly off.

The Dervishes were received with enthusiasm, and went through their
performance to the shouts of "Well wriggled, Java!" "Why don't you oil!"
"Do it again--orang-outang!" They amiably smiled acknowledgments as they
backed away.

Then I myself stepped on to the stage, prepared to judge the two-minutes'
rounds. Grim had whipped up sixteen fags, each willing to do battle for
the honour of his house. The rounds proceeded to the accompaniment of
ear-splitting encouragement, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that
not a solitary one of the defeated heroes thought he had really been
beaten on points.

No mistake about it, Biffen's had a fag who could sing. Thurston's "My
First Cigar" only lacked one thing--it should have lasted a little longer
to suit the audience.

"She called it an Intimidad,
It had spots of a yellowish hue,
She said the best brands always had,
And I firmly believed it was true."

A good number of the fellows knew "The Soldiers in the Park," and Brown
hammered it out in a good old breezy style.

As he was racing home, and the jolly chorus was crashing out from the
piano, one fag started "Oh, listen to the band!"

Instantly the whole school, juniors and seniors as well, joined in the