They called in two more friends—Tom Senior and another—who declared it was a splendid find, and the four thereupon took formal possession of their new territory, and inaugurated the event by a terrific eight-handed match.
Nothing could have been more satisfactory. The room was well out of the way; the studious ones of the Fifth were spared all annoyance, and the riotous ones had an asylum to go to. No one was a bit the worse for the move; every one, on the contrary, found himself decidedly the better.
“Go and kick-up a row in the monitor’s room,” became quite a common objurgation in the Form, among the diligent; as common, in fact, as “Come along, old man, and have it out in the monitor’s room,” was among the idlers.
But, as ill-luck would have it, this delightful retreat happened to be situated immediately over the study occupied by Wren of the Sixth. That worthy hero, seated one afternoon over his books, was startled by a terrific noise, followed by a vibration, followed by the rattling of all his tumblers in the cupboard, followed by a dull, heavy thud over his head, which tempted him to believe either that an earthquake was in progress, or that one of the chimney-stacks had fallen on to the roof. When, however, the noise was repeated, and with it were blended laughter and shouts of “Now then, let him have it!”
“Well parried!”
“Bravo, Bully!” and the like, Wren began to change his mind, and laid down his pen. He walked up the stairs to the upper landing, where, at once, the noise guided him to the old monitor’s room. Then the truth dawned upon him. He stayed long enough to get a pretty clear idea of who the “new lodgers” were, and then prudently retired without attempting a parley single-handed.
But next morning, when the festive rioters of the Fifth approached once more the scene of their revels, what was their amazement and rage to find the door locked, and the following notice, on a piece of school paper, affixed to the panel—“Monitor’s room. This room is closed by direction of the monitors.”
You might have knocked them over with a feather, so stupefied were they by this announcement! They stared at the door, they stared at one another, and then they broke out into a tempest of rage.
“The blackguards! what do they mean?” exclaimed Braddy, tearing down the paper and crushing it up in his hands.
“Monitor’s room, indeed!” cried Ricketts. “We’ll let them see whose room it is!”