“How is it to be done?”
“I have ideas on the subject,” returned Norman, confidently; “but we need not trouble other folks with our private affairs. I don’t exactly agree with Solomon about the advisability of a multitude of counsellors.”
“If you’re good for a spree I’ll stick to you to the backbone!” exclaimed Terry, a boy nearly sixteen, who lived only for mischief, and worshipped Norman, as Stradwick did Biggington, only with enthusiasm, instead of servility.
Stradwick, the remaining member of the party, was beginning slowly and gravely, “I shall do whatever Big———” when a shout of laughter from Norman, Sprattly, and Terry, cut him short. As soon as Sprattly had sufficiently recovered from the effects of his hilarity to be able to speak, he observed—
“Well, if you naughty boys are determined to plot mischief, of course I must not hear it: only, if we should meet by any accident behind the scenes of the theatre, I shall have much pleasure in introducing you to Polly Peachum and the fascinating Coralie;—by-the-bye, let me give you a hint! that stuck-up parson, young Carrington, is a precious sight more wide awake than the Don, so keep out of his way as much as you can.” And having thus spoken, Pentameter Sprattly carried off his five feet four of vulgar humanity, with the most conceited air possible of underbred pretensions.
“What a thorough snob that unfortunate little Pen. has improved into!” observed Norman, as soon as the amiable usher was out of earshot.
“He never was anything else since I’ve known the animal,” returned Biggington, surlily; “that’s him all the world over: he’ll give a fellow information which he knows will set him raving to do a thing, and then come out with his humbugging, ‘Well, you would do it; I told you you’d get into a scrape.’ I wonder what his object now is?”
“Oh! merely to help his cousin, or, more likely brother. Jack,” was the reply; “they’re as much alike as two men can be, only one spratt left off growing a couple of years too soon: if Jack draws a good house his salary will be raised. And now I’ll explain to you my plan, as far as it is at present matured,” and so saying, Norman unfolded to them a scheme— with the details whereof we need not trouble the reader—which, from his intimate acquaintance with the manners and customs of both masters and boys, he had been enabled to adapt to circumstances so cleverly, that even the cautious Biggington confessed he could only discover one flaw in it.
“And that is,” he continued, “supposing everything to have gone smoothly up to the moment of our return, pray how are we to get in, when every door and window will be carefully closed and barred, and the Doctor’s six-barrelled revolver, which he is so proud of, awaiting us if we make noise sufficient to rouse him?”
“I’ve ideas on that point, too,” returned Norman, meditatively; “I’m certain I remember a window in that old loft over the stable, by which I used, when a little shaver, to get in and out through the school-room skylight: I must contrive to make some excuse for inspecting the premises.”