They turned, and began to walk towards the houses. Kennedy feltmiserable. He never allowed himself to be put out, to any greatextent, by his own worries, which, indeed, had not been very numerousup to the present, but the misfortunes of his friends always troubledhim exceedingly. When anything happened to him personally, he foundthe discomfort of being in a tight place largely counterbalanced bythe excitement of trying to find a way out. But the impossibility ofhelping Fenn in any way depressed him.

　　"It must be awful," he said, breaking the silence.

　　"It is," said Fenn, briefly.

　　"But haven't the house-matches made any difference? Blackburn's alwaysfrightfully bucked when the house does anything. You can do anythingyou like with him if you lift a cup. I should have thought Kay wouldhave been all right when he saw you knocking up centuries, and gettinginto the final, and all that sort of thing."Fenn laughed.

　　"Kay!" he said. "My dear man, he doesn't _know_. I don't supposehe's got the remotest idea that we are in the final at all, or, if hehas, he doesn't understand what being in the final means.""But surely he'll be glad if you lick us tomorrow?" asked Kennedy.

　　Such indifference on the part of a house-master respecting thefortunes of his house seemed to him, having before him the brightexample of Mr Blackburn almost incredible.

　　"I don't suppose so," said Fenn. "Or, if he is, I'll bet he doesn'tshow it. He's not like Blackburn. I wish he was. Here he comes, soperhaps we'd better talk about something else."The vanguard of the boys returning from preparation had passed them,and they were now standing at the gate of the house. As Fenn spoke, alittle, restless-looking man in cap and gown came up. His clean-shavenface wore an expression of extreme alertness--the sort of look a ferretwears as he slips in at the mouth of a rabbit-hole. A doctor, calledupon to sum up Mr Kay at a glance, would probably have said that hesuffered from nerves, which would have been a perfectly correctdiagnosis, though none of the members of his house put his manners andcustoms down to that cause. They considered that the methods hepursued in the management of the house were the outcome of a naturallymalignant disposition. This was, however, not the case. There is noreason to suppose that Mr Kay did not mean well. But there is no doubtthat he was extremely fussy. And fussiness--with the possibleexceptions of homicidal mania and a taste for arson--is quite theworst characteristic it is possible for a house-master to possess.

　　He caught sight of Fenn and Kennedy at the gate, and stopped in hisstride.

　　"What are you doing here, Fenn?" he asked, with an abruptness whichbrought a flush to the latter's face. "Why are you outside the house?"Kennedy began to understand why it was that his friend felt sostrongly on the subject of his house-master. If this was the sort ofthing that happened every day, no wonder that there was dissension inthe house of Kay. He tried to imagine Blackburn speaking in that wayto Jimmy Silver or himself, but his imagination was unequal to thetask. Between Mr Blackburn and his prefects there existed a perfectunderstanding. He relied on them to see that order was kept, and theyacted accordingly. Fenn, by the exercise of considerable self-control,had always been scrupulously polite to Mr Kay.

　　"I came out to get some fresh air before lock-up, sir," he replied.

　　"Well, go in. Go in at once. I cannot allow you to be outside thehouse at this hour. Go indoors directly."Kennedy expected a scene, but Fenn took it quite quietly.

　　"Good night, Kennedy," he said.

　　"So long," said Kennedy.

　　Fenn caught his eye, and smiled painfully. Then he turned and wentinto the house.

　　Mr Kay's zeal for reform was apparently still unsatisfied. He directedhis batteries towards Kennedy.

　　"Go to your house at once, Kennedy. You have no business out here atthis time."This, thought Kennedy, was getting a bit too warm. Mr Kay might do ashe pleased with his own house, but he was hanged if he was going totrample on _him_.

　　"Mr Blackburn is my house-master, sir," he said with great respect.

　　Mr Kay stared.

　　"My house-master," continued Kennedy with gusto, slightly emphasisingthe first word, "knows that I always go out just before lock-up, andhe has no objection."And, to emphasise this point, he walked towards the school buildingsagain. For a moment it seemed as if Mr Kay intended to call him back,but he thought better of it. Mr Blackburn, in normal circumstances apacific man, had one touchy point--his house. He resented anyinterference with its management, and was in the habit of saying so.

　　Mr Kay remembered one painful scene in the Masters' Common Room, whenhe had ventured to let fall a few well-meant hints as to how a houseshould be ruled. Really, he had thought Blackburn would have choked.

　　Better, perhaps, to leave him to look after his own affairs.

　　So Mr Kay followed Fenn indoors, and Kennedy, having watched himvanish, made his way to Blackburn's.

　　Quietly as Fenn had taken the incident at the gate, it neverthelessrankled. He read prayers that night in a distinctly unprayerful mood.

　　It seemed to him that it would be lucky if he could get through to theend of the term before Mr Kay applied that last straw which does notbreak the backs of camels only. Eight weeks' holiday, with plenty ofcricket, would brace him up for another term. And he had been invitedto play for the county against Middlesex four days after the holidaysbegan. That should have been a soothing thought. But it really seemedto make matters worse. It was hard that a man who on Monday would bebowling against Warner and Beldam, or standing up to Trott and Hearne,should on the preceding Tuesday be sent indoors like a naughty childby a man who stood five-feet-one in his boots, and was devoid of anysort of merit whatever.

　　It seemed to him that it would help him to sleep peacefully that nightif he worked off a little of his just indignation upon somebody. Therewas a noise going on in the fags' room. There always was at Kay's. Itwas not a particularly noisy noise--considering; but it had better bestopped. Badly as Kay had treated him, he remembered that he was headof the house, and as such it behoved him to keep order in the house.

　　He went downstairs, and, on arriving on the scene of action, foundthat the fags were engaged upon spirited festivities, partly in honourof the near approach of the summer holidays, partly because--miraclesbarred--the house was going on the morrow to lift the cricket-cup.

　　There were a good many books flying about, and not a few slippers.

　　There was a confused mass rolling in combat on the floor, and thetable was occupied by a scarlet-faced individual, who passed the timeby kicking violently at certain hands, which were endeavouring to draghim from his post, and shrieking frenzied abuse at the owners of thesaid hands. It was an animated scene, and to a deaf man might havebeen most enjoyable.

　　Fenn's appearance was the signal for a temporary suspension ofhostilities.

　　"What the dickens is all this row about?" he inquired.

　　No one seemed ready at the moment with a concise explanation. Therewas an awkward silence. One or two of the weaker spirits even went sofar as to sit down and begin to read. All would have been well but fora bright idea which struck some undiscovered youth at the back of theroom.

　　"Three cheers for Fenn!" observed this genial spirit, in no uncertainvoice.

　　The idea caught on. It was just what was wanted to give a finish tothe evening's festivities. Fenn had done well by the house. He hadscored four centuries and an eighty, and was going to knock off theruns against Blackburn's tomorrow off his own bat. Also, he had takeneighteen wickets in the final house-match. Obviously Fenn was a persondeserving of all encouragement. It would be a pity to let him thinkthat his effort had passed unnoticed by the fags' room. Happy thought!

　　Three cheers and one more, and then "He's a jolly good fellow", towind up with.

　　It was while those familiar words, "It's a way we have in the publicscho-o-o-o-l-s", were echoing through the room in various keys, that asmall and energetic form brushed past Fenn as he stood in the doorway,vainly trying to stop the fags' choral efforts.

　　It was Mr Kay.

　　The singing ceased gradually, very gradually. It was some time beforeMr Kay could make himself heard. But after a couple of minutes therewas a lull, and the house-master's address began to be audible.

　　"...unendurable noise. What is the meaning of it? I will not have it.

　　Do you hear? It is disgraceful. Every boy in this room will write metwo hundred lines by tomorrow evening. It is abominable, Fenn." Hewheeled round towards the head of the house. "Fenn, I am surprised atyou standing here and allowing such a disgraceful disturbance to goon. Really, if you cannot keep order better--It is disgraceful,disgraceful."Mr Kay shot out of the room. Fenn followed in his wake, and theprocession made its way to the house-masters' study. It had been anear thing, but the last straw had arrived before the holidays.

　　Mr Kay wheeled round as he reached his study door.

　　"Well, Fenn?"Fenn said nothing.

　　"Have you anything you wish to say, Fenn?""I thought you might have something to say to me, sir.""I do not understand you, Fenn.""I thought you might wish to apologise for slanging me in front of thefags."It is wonderful what a difference the last straw will make in one'sdemeanour to a person.

　　"Apologise! I think you forget whom it is you are speaking to."When a master makes this well-worn remark, the wise youth realisesthat the time has come to close the conversation. All Fenn's prudence,however, had gone to the four winds.

　　"If you wanted to tell me I was not fit to be head of the house, youneedn't have done it before a roomful of fags. How do you think I cankeep order in the house if you do that sort of thing?"Mr Kay overcame his impulse to end the interview abruptly in order toput in a thrust.

　　"You do not keep order in the house, Fenn," he said, acidly.

　　"I do when I am not interfered with.""You will be good enough to say 'sir' when you speak to me, Fenn,"said Mr Kay, thereby scoring another point. In the stress of themoment, Fenn had not noticed the omission.

　　He was silenced. And before he could recover himself, Mr Kay was inhis study, and there was a closed, forbidding door between them.

　　And as he stared at it, it began slowly to dawn upon Fenn that he hadnot shown up to advantage in the recent interview. In a word, he hadmade a fool of himself.