son, who, one would have imagined, might have learned better manners. Last, not least (for we need not re-introduce Messrs. Ricketts or Bullinger, or go out of our way to present Simon, the donkey of the Form, to the reader), is Master Anthony Pembury, the boy now mounting up onto a chair with the aid of two friends. Anthony is lame, and one of the most dreaded boys in Saint Dominic's. His father is editor of the Great Britain
, and the son seems to have inherited his talent for saying sharp things. Woe betide the Dominican who raises Tony's dander! He cannot box, he cannot pursue; but he can talk
, and he can ridicule, as his victims all the school over know.
He it is who has, of his own sweet will, summoned together the present meeting, and the business he is now about to explain.
"The fact is, you fellows," he begins, "I wanted to ask your opinion about a little idea of my own. You know the Sixth Form Magazine?"
"Rather," says Ricketts; "awful rubbish too! Pape