“Or the Anti-Sixth,” says Braddy, who always professes an implacable enmity towards the Sixth when none of them are near to hear him.
“Not at all,” says Greenfield, speaking now for the first time. “What’s the use of making fools of ourselves? Call it the Dominican, and let it be a paper for the whole school.”
“Greenfield is right,” adds Pembury. “If we can make it a regular school paper it will be a far better slap at the Sixth than if we did nothing but pitch into them. Look here, you fellows, leave it to me to get out the first number. We’ll astonish the lives out of them—you see!”
Every one is far too confident of Tony’s capacity to raise an objection to this proposal; and after a good deal more talk, in which the idea of the Dominican excites quite an enthusiasm among these amiable young gentlemen, the meeting breaks up.
That evening, as the fellows passed down the corridor to prayers, a new notice appeared on the board:
“The first number of the Dominican will appear on the 24th inst.”
“What does it mean?” asked Raleigh of the Sixth, the school captain, of his companion, as they stopped to examine this mysterious announcement; “there’s no name to it.”
“I suppose it’s another prank of the Fifth. By the way, do you see how one of them has altered this debating society notice?”
“Upon my word,” said Raleigh reading it, and smiling in spite of himself, “they are getting far too impudent. I must send a monitor to complain of this.”
And so the two grandees walked on.