What a go is life!

　　Let us examine the case of Jackson, of Dexter's. O'Hara, who had leftDexter's at the end of the summer term, had once complained to Clowesof the manner in which his house-master treated him, and Clowes hadremarked in his melancholy way that it was nothing less than a breachof the law that Dexter should persist in leading a fellow a dog's lifewithout a dog licence for him.

　　That was precisely how Jackson felt on the subject.

　　Things became definitely unbearable on the day after Sheen's interviewwith Mr Joe Bevan.

　　'Twas morn--to begin at the beginning--and Jackson sprang from hislittle cot to embark on the labours of the day. Unfortunately, hesprang ten minutes too late, and came down to breakfast about the timeof the second slice of bread and marmalade. Result, a hundred lines.

　　Proceeding to school, he had again fallen foul of his house-master--inwhose form he was--over a matter of unprepared Livy. As a matter offact, Jackson _had_ prepared the Livy. Or, rather, he had notabsolutely _prepared_ it; but he had meant to. But it was MrTemplar's preparation, and Mr Templar was short-sighted. Any one willunderstand, therefore, that it would have been simply chucking away thegifts of Providence if he had not gone on with the novel which he hadbeen reading up till the last moment before prep-time, and had broughtalong with him accidentally, as it were. It was a book called _ASpoiler of Men_, by Richard Marsh, and there was a repulsive crime onnearly every page. It was Hot Stuff. Much better than Livy....

　　Lunch Score--Two hundred lines.

　　During lunch he had the misfortune to upset a glass of water. Pureaccident, of course, but there it was, don't you know, all over thetable.

　　Mr Dexter had called him--(a) clumsy;(b) a pig;and had given him(1) Advice--"You had better be careful, Jackson".

　　(2) A present--"Two hundred lines, Jackson".

　　On the match being resumed at two o'clock, with four hundred lines onthe score-sheet, he had played a fine, free game during afternoonschool, and Mr Dexter, who objected to fine, free games--or, indeed,any games--during school hours, had increased the total to six hundred,when stumps were drawn for the day.

　　So on a bright sunny Saturday afternoon, when he should have been outin the field cheering the house-team on to victory against the SchoolHouse, Jackson sat in the junior day-room at Dexter's copying outportions of Virgil, Aeneid Two.

　　To him, later on in the afternoon, when he had finished half his task,entered Painter, with the news that Dexter's had taken thirty pointsoff the School House just after half-time.

　　"Mopped them up," said the terse and epigrammatic Painter. "Made ringsround them. Haven't you finished yet? Well, chuck it, and come out.""What's on?" asked Jackson.

　　"We're going to have a boat race.""Pile it on.""We are, really. Fact. Some of these School House kids are awfully sickabout the match, and challenged us. That chap Tomlin thinks he can row.