"He’ll go on the razzle, I suppose," he remarked, as he dropped into the corner opposite Templeton.  "But he can’t keep it up long.  Isn’t Saturday the day for that old ceremony—what do they call it?—anointing the British Stone?  I’d made up my mind to see that; it will be a bit of a rag to finish up my holiday with.  I suppose you’ll be too much occupied with your road-sweeper to bother about it?"