The headmaster was quite bland and business-like about it all. Therewere no impassioned addresses from the dais. He did not tell theschool that it ought to be ashamed of itself. Nor did he say that heshould never have thought it of them. Prayers on the Saturday morningwere marked by no unusual features. There was, indeed, a stir ofexcitement when he came to the edge of the dais, and cleared histhroat as a preliminary to making an announcement. Now for it, thoughtthe school.

　　This was the announcement.

　　"There has been an outbreak of chicken-pox in the town. All streetsexcept the High Street will in consequence be out of bounds tillfurther notice."He then gave the nod of dismissal.

　　The school streamed downstairs, marvelling.

　　The less astute of the picnickers, unmindful of the homely proverbabout hallooing before leaving the wood, were openly exulting. Itseemed plain to them that the headmaster, baffled by the magnitude ofthe thing, had resolved to pursue the safe course of ignoring italtogether. To lie low is always a shrewd piece of tactics, and thereseemed no reason why the Head should not have decided on it in thepresent instance.

　　Neville-Smith was among these premature rejoicers.

　　"I say," he chuckled, overtaking Wyatt in the cloisters, "this is allright, isn't it! He's funked it. I thought he would. Finds the job toobig to tackle."Wyatt was damping.

　　"My dear chap," he said, "it's not over yet by a long chalk. It hasn'tstarted yet.""What do you mean? Why didn't he say anything about it in Hall, then?""Why should he? Have you ever had tick at a shop?""Of course I have. What do you mean? Why?""Well, they didn't send in the bill right away. But it came allright.""Do you think he's going to do something, then?""Rather. You wait."Wyatt was right.

　　Between ten and eleven on Wednesdays and Saturdays old Bates, theschool sergeant, used to copy out the names of those who were in extralesson, and post them outside the school shop. The school inspectedthe list during the quarter to eleven interval.

　　To-day, rushing to the shop for its midday bun, the school was awareof a vast sheet of paper where usually there was but a small one. Theysurged round it. Buns were forgotten. What was it?

　　Then the meaning of the notice flashed upon them. The headmaster hadacted. This bloated document was the extra lesson list, swollen withnames as a stream swells with rain. It was a comprehensive document.

　　It left out little.

　　"The following boys will go in to extra lesson this afternoon and nextWednesday," it began. And "the following boys" numbered four hundred.

　　"Bates must have got writer's cramp," said Clowes, as he read the hugescroll.

　　* * * * *Wyatt met Mike after school, as they went back to the house.

　　"Seen the 'extra' list?" he remarked. "None of the kids are in it, Inotice. Only the bigger fellows. Rather a good thing. I'm glad you gotoff.""Thanks," said Mike, who was walking a little stiffly. "I don't knowwhat you call getting off. It seems to me you're the chaps who gotoff.""How do you mean?""We got tanned," said Mike ruefully.

　　"What!""Yes. Everybody below the Upper Fourth."Wyatt roared with laughter.

　　"By Gad," he said, "he is an old sportsman. I never saw such a man. Helowers all records.""Glad you think it funny. You wouldn't have if you'd been me. I wasone of the first to get it. He was quite fresh.""Sting?""Should think it did.""Well, buck up. Don't break down.""I'm not breaking down," said Mike indignantly.

　　"All right, I thought you weren't. Anyhow, you're better off than Iam.""An extra's nothing much," said Mike.

　　"It is when it happens to come on the same day as the M.C.C. match.""Oh, by Jove! I forgot. That's next Wednesday, isn't it? You won't beable to play!""No.""I say, what rot!""It is, rather. Still, nobody can say I didn't ask for it. If one goesout of one's way to beg and beseech the Old Man to put one in extra,it would be a little rough on him to curse him when he does it.""I should be awfully sick, if it were me.""Well, it isn't you, so you're all right. You'll probably get my placein the team."Mike smiled dutifully at what he supposed to be a humorous sally.

　　"Or, rather, one of the places," continued Wyatt, who seemed to besufficiently in earnest. "They'll put a bowler in instead of me.

　　Probably Druce. But there'll be several vacancies. Let's see. Me.

　　Adams. Ashe. Any more? No, that's the lot. I should think they'd giveyou a chance.""You needn't rot," said Mike uncomfortably. He had his day-dreams,like ever............