CHAPTER VII.
THE PIGEONS "Et motae ad Lunam trepidabis arundinis umbram." Juv.

X.21.
"How awfully dull it is, Charlie," said Eric, a few weeks before Easter, as he sat with Wildney in his study one holiday afternoon.
"Yes; too late for football, too early for cricket." And Wildney stretched himself and yawned.
"I suppose this is what they call ennui," said Eric again, after a pause.

"What is to be done, Sunbeam ?" "You _shan't_ call me that, so there's an end of it," said Wildney, hitting him on the arm.
"By the bye, Eric, you remind me to-morrow's my birth-day, and I've got a parcel coming this afternoon full of grub from home.

Let's go and see if it's come." "Capital! We will." So Eric and Wildney started off to the coach-office, where they found the hamper, and ordered it to be brought at once to the school, and carried up to Eric's study.
On opening it they found it rich in dainties, among which were a pair of fowls and a large plum-cake.
"Hurrah!" said Wildney, "you were talking of nothing to do; I vote we have a carouse to-morrow." "Very well; only let's have it _before_ prayers, because we were so nearly caught last time." "Ay, and let it be in one of the class-rooms, Eric; not up here, lest we have another incursion of the 'Rosebuds.' I shall have to cut preparation, but that don't matter, It's Harley's night, and old Stupid will never twig." "Well, whom shall we ask ?" said Eric.
"Old Llewellyn for one," said Wildney.

"We havn't seen him for an age, and he's getting too lazy even for a bit of fun." "Good; and Graham," suggested Eric.