"Years rolled by, and death took Jim away, boys,
Left his widow, and she married me;
Now we're married oft I think of Jim, boys,
Sleeping in that churchyard by the sea.
Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!"

As the words followed on there was a suggestion of oddity in that awful
voice singing a comic song, and there were a few suppressed laughs at the
idea. As the song progressed, the utter dreary weariness of the voice, and
the rather funny words, compelled the fellows to laugh in uncontrollable
bursts; but still Acton never turned a hair. When he arrived at the
churchyard lines there was one universal howl of delight. Brown stopped
dead at the end of the second last line, and Acton stopped dead too.
Instantly all the fellows became as mute as fish. The singer straightened
himself up, looked round the room with a mocking smile while one might
count a dozen, and then winked to Brown, who recommenced softly on the
piano. Then Acton _sang_ slowly and deliberately--sang with a voice
as clear and as tunable as a silver bell--

"Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!"

His croak was a pretence--he had hoaxed us all! Before we recovered from
our stupefaction he had vanished. The school clamoured for his return,
but though they cheered for three minutes on end Acton did not reappear,
and Brown struck up "God save the Queen!" Biffen's concert was at an end!

Grim held a five minutes' meeting among the Biffenites before bed.

"There's never been a fellow like Acton in St. Amory's. He goes away at