The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's, by Talbot Baines Reed. 

________________________________________________________________________This is a rather famous book about life in a boys' boarding school. Westart off with the entry to the school of a little new boy, not quiteeleven years old, who also happens to have an older brother in theschool. We learn about the school at the same time as little Steeviedoes. 

Steevie is appointed to be the fag of one Loman, and as the storyunfolds we begin to see life through the eyes of the older boy. Thereis an interesting moment when Steevie refuses to do the work of fag toLoman, and is soundly beaten up for his refusal. 

There is a rather unsuitable public-house owner, Cripps, and Lomanbecomes indebted to him for a large sum of money. What Loman does totry to liquidate his debt is what much of the latter part of the bookis about. We do not wish to spoil the story for you, so we will not gointo any details of this. 

There is a rather nice episode during the summer holidays when some ofthe boys row down the river Thames from Oxford to London, which yourreviewer has also done more than once. Many of the landmarks that theysaw are still there. You will enjoy reading or listening to this book. 

________________________________________________________________________THE FIFTH FORM AT SAINT DOMINIC'S, BY TALBOT BAINES REED. 

PREFACE. 

_The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's_ is a story of public-school life, and was written for the _Boy's Own Paper_, in the Fourth Volume of whichit appeared. The numbers containing it are now either entirely out ofprint or difficult to obtain; and many and urgent have been therequests--from boys themselves, as well as from parents, head masters, and others--for its re-issue as a book. 

Of the story itself little need be said. It deals in a bright andvigorous style with the kaleidoscopic, throbbing life of a great publicschool--that world in miniature which, in its daily opportunities andtemptations, ambitions and failures, has so often afforded superabundantmaterial for narratives powerful to enchain the attention and sway theemotions, whether to smiles or tears. This will take its place, amongstthe best of them. 

Though the story is one of school life, its interest is by no meanslimited to school or college walls. Boys of all sorts and conditions--ay, and their parents too--will follow its fortunes with unflagging zestfrom the first page to the last; and it is difficult to conceive of anyreader, be he young or old, who would not be the better for its vividportraiture and bracing atmosphere. There is a breeziness about itcalculated to stir the better life in the most sluggish; and withoutpretence or affectation it rings out its warnings, no less than itsnotes of cheer, clear and rousing as trumpet blasts. 

 "Do right, and thou hast nought to fear, Right hath a power that makes thee strong; The night is dark, but light is near, The grief is short, the joy is long. "

Without the most distant approach to that fatal kind of sermonisingwhich all but inevitably repels those whom it is meant to benefit, thestory forcefully illustrates how rapidly they may sink who once tamper, for seeming present advantage, with truth, and how surely, sooner orlater, a noble character comes to vindication and honour; and in allsuch respects it is eminently true to life. These boys of SaintDominic's, even the best of them, are very human--neither angels normonstrosities, but, for the most part, ardent, impulsive, out-and-out, work-a-day lads; with the faults and failings of inexperience andimpetuosity, no doubt, but also with that moral grit and downrighthonesty of purpose that are still, we believe, the distinguishing markof the true British public-school boy. Hence one is impelled to takefrom the outset a most genuine interest in them and their affairs, andto feel quite as though one had known many of them personally for years, and been distinctly the better, too, for that knowledge. Such boysstand at the antipodes alike of the unreal abstractions of an effeminatesentimentalism--the paragons who prate platitudes and die young--and ofthe morbid specimens of youthful infamy only too frequently paraded bythe equally unreal sensationalism of to-day to meet the cravings of avitiated taste. 

_The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's_ is the kind of book we should placewith confidence in the hands of our own boys when leaving the homeshelter, whether for school or the sterner after-battle; and we cannotconceive of the parent who, having read it with care and pleasure, as wehave done, and knowing at the same time anything of the stress andstrain of daily life, would not, with gratitude to the author, gladly dothe same. With all their faults, Oliver Greenfield and Wraysford aresplendid boys, of just the fibre that the Church needs, and the worldcannot afford to do without; and yet their school career proves by nomeans a bed of roses. To drift with the current is proverbially easy;to seek to stem it manfully, and steer by the stars, may, and oftendoes, lay one open to misapprehension or envy, and all the ills thatfollow in their train; yet--

 "God is God, and right is right, And truth the day must win; To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sin. "

Our heroes had their full share of trouble--what real hero has not?--butthey come out of the ordeal purified and strengthened, with nobleraspirations after duty, and tenderer thoughts of helpfulness towardsthose needing, if far from seeking, their succouring arm. 

How all this comes about it is not for us to tell. Readers will findthat out for themselves, and thank us for allowing them, unaided, to doso. The school cricket match, the grand football struggle, theever-memorable prize-day--these are matters that no alien pen may touch. Our prayer is that God may abundantly bless the book to the building upin our schools and families of strong Christian characters, who in theafter days shall do valiant service for Christ and humanity. 

G. A. Hutchison. 

CHAPTER ONE. 

THE NOTICE BOARD. 

The four o'clock bell was sounding up the staircase and down thepassages of Saint Dominic's school. It was a minute behind its time, and had old Roach, the school janitor, guessed at half the abuseprivately aimed at his devoted head for this piece of negligence, hemight have pulled the rope with a good deal more vivacity than he atpresent displayed. 

At the signal there was a general shuffling of feet and uproar ofvoices--twelve doors swung open almost simultaneously, and next momentfive hundred boys poured out, flooding the staircases and passages, shouting, scuffling, and laughing, and throwing off by one easy effortthe restraint and gravity of the last six hours. 

The usual rush and scramble ensued. Some boys, taking off their coatsand tucking up their sleeves as they ran, made headlong for theplayground. Some, with books under their arms, scuttled off to theirstudies. The heroes of the Sixth stalked majestically to theirquarters. The day boarders hurried away to catch the train at Maltby. A few slunk sulkily to answer to their names in the detention-room, andothers, with the air of men to whom time is no object and exertion notemptation, lounged about in the corridors with hands in pockets, regarding listlessly the general stampede of their fellows, andapparently not knowing exactly what to do with themselves. 

Among these last happened to be Bullinger of the Fifth and hisparticular friend Ricketts, who, neither of them having any moretempting occupation, were comfortably leaning up against the door of theFourth junior class-room, thereby making prisoners of some twenty orthirty youngsters, whose infuriated yells and howls from within appearedto afford the two gentlemen a certain languid satisfaction. 

"Open the door! do you hear?" shrieked one little treble voice. 

"All right!" piped another. "I know who you are, you cads. See if Idon't tell Dr Senior!"

"Oh, please, I say, I shall lose my train!" whimpered a third. 

"Wait till I get out; see if I don't kick your shins!" howled a fourth. 

It was no use. In vain these bantams stormed and raved, and entreatedand blubbered. The handle would not turn, and the door would not yield. Mr Bullinger and his friend vouchsafed no reply, either to theirthreats or their supplications, and how long the blockade might havelasted it is impossible to say, had not a fresh dissension called thebeleaguerers away. A cluster of boys at a corner of the big corridornear the main entrance attracted their curiosity, and suggested apossibility of even more entertainment than the goading into fury of aparcel of little boys, so, taking advantage of a moment when thebesieged had combined, shoulder to shoulder, to make one magnificent anddesperate onslaught on to the obdurate door, they quietly "raised thesiege, " and quitting their hold, left the phalanx of small heroes totopple head over heels and one over another on to the stone floor of thepassage, while they sauntered off arm-in-arm to the scene of the newexcitement. 

The object which had attracted the knot of boys whom they now joined wasthe School Notice Board, on which, from time to time, were postednotices of general and particular interest to the school. On thisparticular afternoon (the first Friday of the Summer term) it was, asusual, crowded with announcements, each interesting in its way. 

The first was in the handwriting of Dr Senior's secretary, and ran asfollows:--

"A Nightingale Scholarship, value 50 pounds a year for three years, willfall vacant at Michaelmas. Boys under seventeen are eligible. Particulars and subject of examination can be had any evening next weekin the secretary's room. "

"Fifty-pounds a year _for_ three years!" exclaimed a small boy, with ahalf whistle. "I wouldn't mind getting that!"

"Well, why don't you, you avaricious young Jew? You're under seventeen, I suppose?" retorted the amiable Mr Bullinger, thereby raising a laughat the expense of this little boy of eleven, who retired from the sceneextinguished. 

The next notice was in the classical handwriting of the secretary of theSixth Form Literary Society, and ran as follows:--

"This Society will meet on Tuesday. Subject for debate, `That thepresent age is degenerate, ' moved by A. E. Callander, opposed by T. Winter. Boys from the Senior Fifth are invited as auditors. "

This notice, even with the patronising postscript, would have passedwithout comment, as Sixth Form notices usually did, had not someaudacious hand ventured to alter a word and make the subject of debate, instead of "That the present age is degenerate, " read "That the presentSixth is degenerate. " Who the perpetrator of this outrage might be wasa mystery, but the alteration was quite enough to render the notice veryamusing to many of the readers, especially the Fifth Form boys, and veryterrible to others, especially the small boys, who looked nervous andguilty, and did not dare by the slightest sign to join in the mirth oftheir irreverent seniors. Most of the assembly agreed that "there wouldbe a row about it, " with which assurance they passed on to the nextnotice. 

"Wanted, a Smart Fag. No Tadpoles or Guinea-pigs need apply. HoraceWraysford, Fifth Form. "

"Bravo, Horatius!" said Ricketts. "A lucky young cub it will be that hetakes on, " added he, turning to a group of the small boys near. "He'lldo your sums and look over your exercises for you like one o'clock. Ugh! though, I suppose every man Jack of you is a Tadpole or a Pig?"

Tadpoles and Guinea-pigs, I should say, were the names given to twocombinations or clubs in the clannish Junior School, the mysteries ofwhich were known only to their members, but which were not regarded withfavour by the older boys. 

As no one answered this charge, Ricketts indulged in a few generalthreats, and a few not very complimentary comments on the clubs inquestion, and then returned to the notice board, which contained twomore announcements. 

"Cricket Notices. To-morrow will be a final big practice, when theelevens for the `A to M _versus_ N to Z' match on the 25th will bechosen. `Sixth _versus_ School' will be played on the 1st proxo. TheSchool Eleven will be selected from among players in the two abovematches. "

"A private meeting of the Fifth will be held this afternoon at 4. 30 todiscuss an important matter. "

"Hullo!" said Bullinger, looking up at the clock, "it's half-past now!Come along, Rick. "

And the two demagogues disappeared arm-in-arm down the passage, followedby the admiring glances of the juniors, who spent the next half-hour inwondering what could be the important matter under consideration at theprivate meeting of the Fifth. The universal conclusion was that it hadreference to the suppression of the Tadpoles and Guinea-pigs--aproceeding the very suggestion of which made those small animals tremblewith mingled rage and fear, and sent them off wriggling to their ownquarters, there to deliberate on the means of defence necessary toprotect themselves from the common enemy. 

The meeting in the Fifth, however, was to consider a far more importantsubject than the rebellious clubs of the Junior School. 

The reader will doubtless have inferred, from what has already beensaid, that the young gentlemen of the Fifth Form at Saint Dominic'sentertained, among other emotions, a sentiment something like jealousyof their seniors and superiors in the sixth. Perhaps Saint Dominic's isnot the only school in which such a feeling has existed; but, at anyrate during the particular period to which I am referring, it was prettystrong there. Not that the two Forms were at war, or that there was anyfear of actual hostilities. It was not so bad as all that. But theFifth were too near the heroes of the top Form to consent to submit totheir authority. They would be Sixth men themselves soon, and then ofcourse they would expect the whole school to reverence them. But tillthat time they resented the idea of bowing before these future comrades;and not only that, they took every opportunity of asserting theirauthority among the juniors, and claiming the allegiance for themselvesthey refused to render to others. And they succeeded in this very well, for they took pains to make themselves popular in the school, and toappear as the champions quite as much as the bullies of the small fry. The consequence was that while Tadpoles and Guinea-pigs quaked andblushed in the presence of the majestic Sixth, they quaked and smirkedin the presence of the Fifth, and took their thrashings meekly, in thehope of getting a Latin exercise looked over or a minor tyrant punishedlater on. 

Just at the present time, too, the Fifth was made up of a set of fellowswell able to maintain the peculiar traditions of their fellowship. Theynumbered one or two of the cleverest boys (for their age) in SaintDominic's; and, more important still in the estimation of many, theynumbered not a few of the best cricketers, boxers, football-players, andrunners in the school. With these advantages their popularity as a bodywas very great--and it is only due to them to say that they bore theirhonours magnanimously, and distributed their kicks and favours with thestrictest impartiality. 

Such was the company which assembled on this afternoon in their ownclass-room, with closed doors, to deliberate on "private and importantbusiness. " About twenty boys were present, and the reader must let meintroduce a few of them, before his curiosity as to the occasion oftheir assembling themselves together can be satisfied. 

That handsome, jovial-looking boy of sixteen who is sitting thereastride of a chair, in the middle of the floor, biting the end of aquill pen, is the redoubtable Horace Wraysford, the gentleman, it willbe remembered, who is in want of a fag. Wraysford is one of the best"all-round men" in the Fifth, or indeed in the school. He is certain tobe in the School Eleven against the County, certain to win the mile raceand the "hurdles" at the Athletic Sports, and is not at all unlikely tocarry off the Nightingale Scholarship next autumn, even though one ofthe Sixth is in for it too. Indeed, it is said he would be quitecertain of this honour, were it not that his friend and rival OliverGreenfield, who is standing there against the wall, with his headresting on a map of Greece, is also in for it. Greenfield does notstrike one as nearly so brilliant a fellow as his friend. He is quieterand more lazy, and more solemn. Some say he has a temper, and othersthat he is selfish; and generally he is not the most popular boy inSaint Dominic's. Wraysford, however, sticks to him through thick andthin, and declares that, so far from being ill-tempered and selfish, heis one of the best fellows in the school, and one of the cleverest. AndMr Wraysford is prepared to maintain his allegation at the point ofthe--knuckle! That hulking, ugly youth is Braddy, the bully, the terrorof the Guinea-pigs, and the laughing-stock of his own class-mates. Theboy who is fastening a chalk duster on to the collar of Braddy's coat isTom Senior, the Doctor's eldest son, who, one would have imagined, mighthave learned better manners. Last, not least (for we need notre-introduce Messrs. Ricketts or Bullinger, or go out of our way topresent Simon, the donkey of the Form, to the reader), is Master AnthonyPembury, the boy now mounting up onto a chair with the aid of twofriends. Anthony is lame, and one of the most dreaded boys in SaintDominic's. His father is editor of the _Great Britain_, and the sonseems to have inherited his talent for saying sharp things. Woe betidethe Dominican who raises Tony's dander! He cannot box, he cannotpursue; but he can _talk_, and he can ridicule, as his victims all theschool over know. 

He it is who has, of his own sweet will, summoned together the presentmeeting, and the business he is now about to explain. 

"The fact is, you fellows, " he begins, "I wanted to ask your opinionabout a little idea of my own. You know the _Sixth Form Magazine_?"

"Rather, " says Ricketts; "awful rubbish too! Papers a mile long in itabout Greek roots; and poetry about the death of Seneca, and all thatsort of thing. "

"That's just it, " continued Pembury; "it's rubbish, and unreadable; andthough they condescend to let us see it, I don't suppose two fellows inthe Form ever wade through it. "

"I know _I don't_, for one, " says Wraysford, laughing; "I _did_ make astart at that ode on the birth of Senior junior in the last, which beganwith--

 "`Hark, 'tis the wail of an infant that wakes the still echoes of lofty Olympus, '

"but I got no farther. "

"Yes, " says Tom Senior, "Wren wrote that. I felt it my duty tochallenge him for insulting the family, you know. But he said it wasmeant as a compliment, and that the Doctor was greatly pleased with it. "

"Well, " resumed Pembury, laughing, "they won't allow any of us tocontribute. I suggested it to the editor, and he said (you know hisstuck-up way), `They saw no reason for opening their columns to any butSixth Form fellows. ' So what I propose is, that we get up a paper ofour own!"

"Upon my word, it's a splendid idea!" exclaimed Wraysford, jumping up inraptures. And every one else applauded Pembury's proposition. 

"We've as good a right, you know, " he continued, "as they have, andought to be able to turn out quite as respectable a paper. "

"Rather, " says Ricketts, "if you'll only get the fellows to write. "

"Oh, I'll manage that, " said Anthony. 

"Of course you'll have to be editor, Tony, " says Bullinger. 

"If you like, " says the bashful Tony, who had no notion of _not_ beingeditor. 

"Well, I call that a splendid idea, " says Braddy. "Won't they be in afury? (Look here, Senior, I wish you wouldn't stick your pins into myneck, do you hear?)"

"What shall we call it?" some one asks. 

"Ah, yes, " says Pembury, "we ought to give it a good name. "

"Call it the _Senior Wrangler_, " suggested Ricketts. 

"Sounds too like a family concern, " cried Tom Senior. 

"Suppose we call it the _Fifth Form War Whoop_, " proposed Wraysford, amid much laughter. 

"Or the _Anti-Sixth_, " says Braddy, who always professes an implacableenmity towards the Sixth when none of them are near to hear him. 

"Not at all, " says Greenfield, speaking now for the first time. "What'sthe use of making fools of ourselves? Call it the _Dominican_, and letit be a paper for the whole school. "

"Greenfield is right, " adds Pembury. "If we can make it a regularschool paper it will be a far better slap at the Sixth than if we didnothing but pitch into them. Look here, you fellows, leave it to me toget out the first number. We'll astonish the lives out of them--yousee!"

Every one is far too confident of Tony's capacity to raise an objectionto this proposal; and after a good deal more talk, in which the idea ofthe _Dominican_ excites quite an enthusiasm among these amiable younggentlemen, the meeting breaks up. 

That evening, as the fellows passed down the corridor to prayers, a newnotice 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, ofhis 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 howone of them has altered this debating society notice?"

"Upon my word, " said Raleigh reading it, and smiling in spite ofhimself, "they are getting far too impudent. I must send a monitor tocomplain of this. "

And so the two grandees walked on. 

Later in the evening Greenfield and Wraysford sat together in the studyof the former. 

"Well, I see the Nightingale is vacant at last. Of course you are goingin, old man?" said Wraysford. 

"Yes, I suppose so; and you?" asked the other. 

"Oh, yes. I'll have a shot, and do my best. "

"I don't mean to let you have it, though, " said Greenfield, "for themoney would be valuable to me if I ever go up to Oxford. "

"Just the reason I want to get it, " said Wraysford, laughing. "By theway, when is your young brother coming?"

"This week, I expect. "

"I wonder if he'll fag for me?" asked Wraysford, mindful of hisdestitute condition. 

Greenfield laughed. "You'd better ask the captain about that. I can'tanswer for him. But I must be off now. Good-night. "

And an hour after that Saint Dominic's was as still and silent as, during the day, it had been bustling and noisy. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

A NEW BOY. 

"Good-Bye, my boy; God bless you! and don't forget to tell thehousekeeper about airing your flannel vests. "

With this final benediction ringing in his ears, the train which was tocarry Master Stephen Greenfield from London to Saint Dominic's steamedslowly out of the station, leaving his widowed mother to return lonelyand sorrowful to the home from which, before this day, her youngest sonhad never wandered far without her. 

Stephen, if the truth must be told, was hardly as affected by theparting as his poor mother. Not that he was not sorry to leave home, orthat he did not love her he left behind; but with all the world beforehim, he was at present far too excited to think of anything rationally. Besides, that last remark about the flannel vests had greatly disturbedhim. The carriage was full of people, who must have heard it, and wouldbe sure to set him down as no end of a milksop and mollycoddle. 

He blushed to the roots of his hair as he pulled up the window and satdown in his corner, feeling quite certain every one of hisfellow-travellers must be secretly smiling at his expense. He wishedhis mother would have whispered that last sentence. It wasn't fair tohim. In short, Stephen felt a trifle aggrieved; and, with a view tomanifesting his hardihood, and dispelling all false impressions causedby the maternal injunction, he let down the window and put his bare headout of it for about a quarter of an hour, until a speck of dust settledin his eye and drove him back to his seat. 

It is decidedly awkward to get dust in your eye when you want to figureas a hero, for the eyes will water, and must be wiped, and that looksparticularly like weeping. Stephen refrained from using hishandkerchief as long as he could; but it was no use; he must wipe hiseye in the presence of his fellow-passengers. However, if he whistled atune while doing so, no one could suspect him of real tears; so hestruck up, "Glide along, my bonny boat, " as cheerfully as he could, andmopped his smarting eye at the same time. Alas! the dust only gotfarther in, and the music, after half an hour's heroic perseverance, flagged altogether. It was no use trying to appear heroic any longer, so, what with pain and a dawning sense of loneliness and home-sickness, Stephen shed a _few_ real tears into his handkerchief, an indulgencewhich did him good in every way, for it not only relieved his droopingspirits, but washed that wretched piece of dust fairly out of itshiding-place. 

This relief, with the aid of a bun and a bottle of ginger-beer at one ofthe stations, set him, so to speak, on his feet again, and he was ableto occupy the rest of his journey very pleasantly in drumming his heelson the floor, and imagining to himself all the marvellous exploits whichwere to mark his career at Saint Dominic's. He was to be a prodigy inhis new school from the very first; in a few terms he was to be captainof the cricket club, and meanwhile was to gain the favour of the Sixthby helping them regularly in their lessons, and fighting any one againstwhom a special champion should be requisite. He was, indeed, just beinginvited to dinner with the Doctor, who was about to consult himconcerning some points of school management, when the train suddenlypulled up at Maltby, and his brother Oliver's head looked in at thewindow with a "Hullo! here you are! Tumble out!"

Oliver and Stephen were Mrs Greenfield's only children. Their fatherhad died twelve years ago, when Stephen was a baby, and the two boys hadbeen left in charge of an uncle, who had carefully watched over theireducation, and persuaded his sister to allow her elder boy to go to apublic school. Mrs Greenfield had consented, with many tremblings, andOliver had, four years ago, been sent to Saint Dominic's, where he wasnow one of the head boys in the Fifth Form. Only a _few_ weeks beforethe opening of this story the boys' uncle had died, leaving in his willa provision for sending Stephen to the same school as his brother, orany other his mother might select. The poor widow, loth to give up herboy, yet fain to accept the offer held out, chose to send Stephen toSaint Dominic's too, and this was the reason of that young gentleman'spresent appearance on the stage at that centre of learning. 

"I'll send up your traps by the carter; we can walk, " said Oliver, taking his young brother into charge. 

Stephen was only too glad, as it gave him time to breathe beforeplunging at once into the scene of his future exploits. "Is it far?" heasked. 

"Only a mile, " said Oliver; "come on. Hullo, Rick, where have you beento?"

This was addressed to Ricketts, whom they met just outside the station. 

"Oh! to Sherren's about my togs. I wanted them for the match to-morrow, you know. I've told him if he doesn't send them up in time we'll allget our things made in London, so I guess he'll hurry himself for once. Oh, look here! did you get a paper with the result of the Americanmatch? Bother! Here, you kid, what's your name, cut back to thestation and get a daily. Look sharp! Bring it to me in my room. Comeon, Greenfield. "

Master Stephen looked so astonished at this cool request from a totalstranger that both the elder boys laughed. 

"This is my young brother, Rick, just come--"

"Oh, I beg your pardon, " said Mr Ricketts, blushing, "I'll go--"

"No, I'll go, " said Stephen, darting off, and expending a penny of hisown to get this magnifico of the Fifth his paper. 

This little incident served to break the ice for the new boy, who felthighly honoured when Ricketts said he was "much obliged to him. "

"By the way, " said Oliver, suddenly, "I ought to get my togs up too. Bother that Sherren! I say, Rick, see my young brother up to theschool, will you? while I cut back; he can wait in my study. "

Stephen felt very desolate to be left thus alone the moment after hisarrival, and it did not add to his pleasure to observe that Ricketts byno means appeared to look upon the task of seeing him to Saint Dominic'sas a privilege. They walked on in silence for about half a mile, andthen encountered several groups of boys strolling out along the road. Ricketts stopped to talk to several of them, and was very nearly goingoff with one of the party, when he suddenly remembered his charge. Itwas rather humiliating this, for Stephen; and already his triumphalentry into Saint Dominic's was beginning to be shorn of some of itsglory. No one noticed him; and the only one that paid him the leastattention appeared to look upon him as a nuisance. 

"Here, Tony, " suddenly shouted Ricketts to Pembury, who was joggingalong on his crutches a little way ahead, towards the school; "do youmind showing this kid the way up? I have to go back with Wren. There'sa good fellow. "

"Well, that's cool, " replied Master Pembury; "I'm not a kid-conductor!Come on, youngster; I suppose you haven't got a name, have you?"

"Yes, Stephen Greenfield. "

"Oh, brother of our dear friend Oliver; I hope you'll turn out a betterboy than him, he's a shocking character. "

Stephen looked concerned. "I'm sure he doesn't mean to do what'swrong, " began he, apologetically. 

"That's just it, my boy. If he doesn't mean to do it, why on earth doeshe do it? I shall be sorry if he's expelled, very sorry. But come on;don't mind if I walk too fast, " added he, hobbling along by Stephen'sside. 

Stephen did not know what to think. If Ricketts had not addressed hiscompanion as "Tony" he would have fancied he was one of the masters, hespoke with such an air of condescension. Stephen felt veryuncomfortable, too, to hear what had been told him about Oliver. If hehad not been told, he could not have believed his brother was anythingbut perfection. 

"I'm lame, you see, " said Pembury, presently. "You are quite sure yousee? Look at my left leg. "

"I see, " said Stephen, blushing; "I--I hope it doesn't hurt. "

"Only when I wash my face. But never mind that Vulcan was lame too, butthen he never washed. You know who Vulcan was, of course?"

"No, I don't think so, " faltered Stephen, beginning to feel very uneasyand ignorant. 

"Not know Vulcan! My eye! where have you been brought up? Then ofcourse you don't know anything about the Tenth Fiji War? No? I thoughtnot. Dreadful! We shall have to see what you do know. Come on. "

Stephen entered Saint Dominic's thoroughly crestfallen, and fullyconvinced he was the most ignorant boy that ever entered a publicschool. The crowds of boys in the playground frightened him, and eventhe little boys inspired him with awe. _They_, at any rate, had heardof Vulcan, and knew about the Tenth Fiji War!

"Here, " said Anthony, "is your brother's study. Sit here till hereturns, and make the most of your time, for you'll have to put yourbest foot foremost to-morrow in the Doctor's examination. "

So saying, he left abruptly, and the poor lad found himself alone, inabout as miserable a frame of mind as a new boy would wish to be in. 

He looked about the study; there were some shelves with books on them. There was a little bed let into the wall on one side; there was aneasy-chair, and what professed to be a sofa; and there was a pile ofmiscellanies, consisting of bats and boots and collars and papers, heaped up in the corner, which appeared to be the most abundantlyfurnished portion of the little room. Stephen sat there, very dismal, and wishing himself home again once more, when the door suddenly openedand a small boy of his own age appeared. 

"Hullo! What do you want?" demanded this hero. 

"I'm waiting for my brother. "

"Who's your brother?"

"Oliver Greenfield. "

"Oh, all right! you can get his tea as well as I can; you'll find allthe things in the cupboard there. And look here, tell him Bullingerwants to know if he can lend him some jam--about half a pint, tell him. "

Poor Stephen! even the small boys ordered him about, and regarded him asnobody. He would fain have inquired of this young gentleman somethingabout Vulcan, and have had the advantage of his experience in thepreparation of his brother's tea; but the youth seemed pressed for time, and vanished. 

As well as he could, Stephen extricated the paraphernalia of hisbrother's tea-table from the cupboard, and set it out in order on thetable, making the tea as well as profound inexperience of the mysteryand a kettle full of lukewarm water would permit. Then he sat andwaited. 

Before Oliver arrived, four visitors broke in upon Stephen's vigil. Thefirst came "to borrow" some tea, and helped himself coolly to twoteaspoonfuls out of Oliver's canister. Stephen stood by aghast andspeechless. 

"Tell him I'll _owe_ it him, " calmly remarked the young gentleman, as hedeparted with his booty, whistling a cheerful ditty. 

Then a fag came in and took a spoon, and after him another fag, with amug, into which he poured half of the contents of Oliver's milk-jug; andfinally a big fellow rushed in in a desperate hurry and snatched up achair and made off with it. 

Stephen wondered the roof of Saint Dominic's did not fall in upon theseshameless marauders, and was just contemplating putting the stores allback again into the cupboard to prevent further piracy, when the welcomesound of Oliver's voice in the passage put an end to further suspense. 

"Well, here you are, " said Oliver, entering with a friend. "Wray, thisis my young brother, just turned up. "

"How are you?" said Wraysford, in a voice which won over Stephen atonce; "I heard you were coming. Have you--"

"Oh!" suddenly ejaculated Oliver, lifting up the lid of his teapot. "Ifthat young wretch Paul hasn't been and made my tea with coal-dust andcold water! I'd like to scrag him! And--upon my word--oh, this is toomuch!--just look, Wray, how he's laid the table out! Those Guinea-pigsare beyond all patience. Where _is_ the beggar?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Stephen, starting up, very red in the face, as hisbrother went to the door; "it wasn't him. I made the tea. The boy toldme to, and I didn't know the way. I had to guess. "

Oliver and Wraysford both burst out laughing. 

"A pretty good guess, too, youngster, " said Wraysford. "When you comeand fag for me I'll give you a few lessons to begin with. "

"Oh! by the way, Wray, " said Oliver, "that's all knocked on the head. Loman makes out the captain promised him the first new boy that came. I'm awfully sorry. "

"Just like Loman's cheek. I believe he did it on purpose to spite me oryou. I say, Greenfield, I'd kick-up a row about it if I were you. "

"What's the use, if the captain says so?" answered Oliver. "Besides, Loman's a monitor, bad luck to him!"

"Loman's a fellow I don't take a great fancy to, " said Wraysford. "Iwouldn't care for a young brother of mine to fag to him. "

"You are prejudiced, old man, " said Oliver. "But I wish all the sameStephen was to fag for you. It's a pity, but it can't be helped. "

"I'll speak to the captain, anyhow, " growled Wraysford, sitting down tohis tea. 

All this was not very pleasant for Stephen, who gathered that he wasdestined to serve a not very desirable personage in the capacity of fag, instead of, as he would have liked, his brother's friend Wraysford. 

However, he did justice to the tea, bad as it was, and the sardinesOliver had brought from Maltby. He was relieved, too, to find that hisbrother was not greatly exasperated on hearing of the various raidswhich had been made on his provisions, or greatly disconcerted at MrBullinger's modest request for half a pint of jam. 

Then, as the talk fell upon home, and cricket, and other cheerfultopics, the small boy gradually forgot his troubles, even down to theFiji War, and finished up his first evening at Saint Dominic's in a gooddeal more cheerful frame of mind than that in which he had begun it. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

A MORNING WITH A TADPOLE. 

It so happened that on the day following Stephen Greenfield's arrival atSaint Dominic's, the head master, Dr Senior, was absent. 

This circumstance gave great satisfaction to the new boy when hisbrother told him of it, as it put off for another twenty-four hours theawful moment when he would be forced to expose his ignorance before thatterrible personage. 

"You'd better stick about in my room while I'm in school, " said Oliver, "and then you can come down to the cricket-field and see the practice. By the way, some of the fellows may be in to bag my ink; they always runshort on Friday; but don't let them take it, for I shall want itto-night. Ta, ta; give my love to the _mater_ if you're writing home. I'll be back for you after the twelve bell. "

And off he went, leaving Stephen to follow his own sweet devices forthree hours. 

That young gentleman was at no loss how to occupy part of the time. Hemust write home. So after much searching he unearthed a crumpled sheetof note-paper from one of the drawers, and set himself to his task. Ashe wrote, and his thoughts flew back to the home and the mother he hadleft only yesterday, his spirits fell, and the home-sickness came overhim worse than ever. What would he not give to change places with thisvery letter, and go back home!

Here, no one cared for him, every one seemed to despise him. He wasn'tused to those rough public schools, and would never get on at SaintDominic's. Ah! that wretched Tenth Fiji War. What _would_ become ofhim to-morrow when the Doctor would be back? There was no one to helphim. Even Oliver seemed determined to let him fight his own battles. 

Poor boy! He sat back in his chair and let his mind wander once moreback to the snug little home he had left. And, as he did so, his eyesunconsciously filled with tears, and he felt as if he would giveanything to escape from Saint Dominic's. 

At this moment the door opened and a small boy entered. 

He did not seem to expect to find any one in the room, for he uttered ahurried "Hullo!" as he caught sight of Stephen. 

Stephen quickly dashed away a tear and looked up. 

"Where's Greenfield?" demanded the small boy. 

"He's in school, " replied Stephen. 

"Hullo! what are you blubbering at?" cried the small boy, growing verybold and patronising all of a sudden, "eh?"

Stephen did not answer this home question. 

"I suppose you are a new kid, just left your mammy?" observed the other, with the air of a man of forty; "what's your name, young 'un?"

"Stephen Greenfield. "

"Oh, my! is it? What form are you in?"

"I don't know yet. "

"Haven't you been examined?"

"No, not yet. "

"Oh, of course; old Senior's away. Never mind, you'll catch itto-morrow, blub-baby!"

This last epithet was thrown in in such a very gratuitous and offensiveway, that Stephen did not exactly like it. 

The small youth, however, finding himself in a bantering mood, pursuedhis questions with increasing venom. 

"I suppose they call you Steenie at home?" he observed, with a sneerthat was meant to be quite annihilating. 

"No, they don't, " replied Stephen; "mother calls me Steevie. "

"Oh, Steevie, does she? Well, Steevie, were you ever licked over theknuckles with a ruler?"

"No, " replied Stephen; "why?"

"Because you will be--I know who'll do it, too, and kick you on theshins, too, if you're cheeky!"

Stephen was quite at a loss whether to receive this piece of news in thelight of information or a threat. He was inclined to believe it thelatter; and as he was a rash youth, he somewhat tartly replied, "_You_won't!"

The small boy looked astounded--not that he ever contemplated attemptingthe chastisement about which he had talked; but the idea of a new boydefying _him_, one of the chosen leaders of the Tadpoles, who had beenat Saint Dominic's two years, was amazing. He glared at the rashStephen for half a minute, and then broke out, "Won't I? that's all! yousee, you pretty little blubber boy! Yow-ow-ow! little sneak! why don'tyou cut behind your mammy's skirt, if you're afraid? I would cry if Iwere you. Where's his bottle? Poor infant! Yow-ow-boo-boo!"

This tornado, delivered with increasing vehemence and offensiveness, quite overpowered Stephen, who stared at the boy as if he had been atalking frog. 

That youth evidently seemed to expect that his speech would produce afar deeper impression than it did, for he looked quite angry whenStephen made no reply. 

"Wretched little sneak!" the amiable one continued; "I suppose he'll gopeaching to his big brother. Never mind, _we'll_ pay you out, see if wedon't! Go and kiss your mammy, and tell your big brother what they didto little duckie Steevie, did they then? they shouldn't! Give him asuck of his bottle! oh, my!" and he finished up with a most witheringlaugh. Then, suddenly remembering his errand, he walked up to thetable, and said, "I want that inkpot!"

Now was Stephen's time. He was just in the humour for an argument withthis young Philistine. 

"What for?"

"What's that to you? give it up!"

"I shan't give it up; Oliver said it was not to be taken. "

"What do you say?" yelled the small boy, almost beside himself with rageand astonishment. "It's my brother's ink, and I'm not to give it up, "said Stephen, shutting the top and keeping his hand on it. 

It was enough! The patriarch of the Tadpoles knew his strong point wasin words rather than action; but this could not be endured. At whateverrisk, the dignity of his order must be maintained, and this insolent, mad new boy must be--kicked. 

"I'll kick you on the legs if you don't give it up, " said the Tadpole, in a suppressed white heat. 

Stephen said nothing, but kept his hand on the pot, and awaited what wasto follow. 

The hero stepped back a pace or two, to allow of a run worthy of thecoming kick; and what might have happened no one knows. At that momentthe door opened, and Pembury entered on his crutches. 

At sight of this Fifth Form celebrity the Tadpole cringed and cowered, and tried to sneak out of the study unobserved. But Anthony was tooquick for him. Gently hooking him by the coat-collar with the end of acrutch, he brought him back. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Nothing. "

"Yes, he is, " shouted Stephen; "he's been trying to take, away Oliver'sink. "

"Silence, young gentleman, pray!" said Pembury, very grandly. Then, turning to the Tadpole, he added, "Oh, so you've been trying to bag someink, have you?"

"Well, I only wanted a little; and this--"

"Silence! how much ink did you want?"

"Only half a potful. "

"You shall have half a potful!" said Pembury. "Come here. "

The Tadpole obeyed, and glared triumphantly at Stephen. 

"Now, Master Greenfield, " said Pembury, addressing Stephen; "have thekindness to hand me the ink. "

Stephen hesitated; he felt _sure_ Anthony was a master; and yet Oliver'sdirections had been explicit. 

"Do you hear?" thundered Anthony. 

"Do you hear?" squeaked the Tadpole, delighted to have the tables turnedon his adversary. 

"Oliver said I wasn't to let it go, " faltered Stephen. 

"Do you hear me, sir?" again demanded Anthony. 

"Do you hear? give it up!" again squeaked the Tadpole. 

Stephen sighed, and surrendered the inkpot. There was an air ofauthority about Pembury which he dared not defy. 

"Now, Master Tadpole, here's your ink; half a pot you said? Put yourhands behind you, and stir if you dare!" and Pembury looked so awful ashe spoke that the wretched boy was quite petrified. 

The Fifth Form boy then solemnly emptied half the inkpot on to the topof the young gentleman's head, who ventured neither by word nor gestureto protest. 

"Now you can go, sir!" and without another word he led the small youth, down whose face trickled a dozen tiny streams of black, making it lookvery like a gridiron, to the door, and there gently but firmly handedhim into the passage. The wretched youth flew off to proclaim hissorrows to his confederates, and vow vengeance all over Tadpole andGuinea-pig-land against his tormentor and the new boy, who was theauthor of all his humiliation. 

Pembury meanwhile returned to Stephen. That young gentleman had felthis belief in Pembury's authority somewhat shaken by this unusual modeof punishment, but the Fifth Form boy soon reassumed his ascendency. Heproduced from his pocket a paper, and thus addressed Stephen: "DrSenior regrets that he should be absent at such an important time in thehistory of Saint Dominic's as the day of your arrival, MasterGreenfield, but he will be back to-morrow. Meanwhile, you are to occupyyourself with answering the questions on this paper, and take theanswers to the head master's study at ten to-morrow. Of course you willnot be so dishonourable as to show the questions to any one, not evenyour brother, or attempt to get the slightest help in answering them. Good-bye, my boy. Don't trouble to stare at my left leg, if it _is_shorter than the other. Good-bye. "

Poor Stephen felt so confused by the whole of this oration, particularlythe last sentence, which made him blush scarlet with shame, that forsome time after the lame boy had hobbled off he could not bring himselfto look at the paper. At last, however, he took it up. 

This, then, was the awful examination paper which was to determine hisposition at Saint Dominic's, or else expose his ignorance to the scornof his masters. How he wished he was on the other side of it, and thatthe ordeal was over!

"Question 1. Grammar. Parse the sentence, `Oh, ah!' and state thegender of the following substantives: `and, ' `look, ' `here. '"

Stephen scratched his head and rubbed his eyes. This was not likeanything he had learned at home. They must learn out of quite differentbooks at Saint Dominic's. 

"Question 2. History--"

"Hullo, " thought Stephen, "they don't give many questions in grammar;that's a good job. "

"Question 2. History. Whose daughter was Stephen the Second, and whywas he nicknamed the `Green?'"

Stephen laughed. He had found out a mistake in his examiners. "`Daughter, ' the paper said, should be `son' of course. Funny for DrSenior to make such a slip, " thought he. 

"Question 3. History and Geography. Who built England? and state thelatitude and longitude of Saint Dominic's, and the boundaries of GussetWeir. "

"_However_ am I to know?" murmured Stephen, in despair. "I was neverhere before in my life. Oh, dear, I shall _never_ pass!"

"Question 4. Compound Theology. Give a sketch of the rise and historyof the Dominicans from the time of Herod the Conqueror to the death ofTitmus. "

"Whew!" was Stephen's despairing ejaculation. "I never heard of Titmus;it sounds like a Latin name. "

"Question 5. Pure Theology. Who was Mr Finis? Give a list of theworks bearing his signature, with a short abstract of their contents. What is he particularly celebrated for?"

"Mr Finis?" groaned Stephen. "How can they expect a boy like me toknow who he was? And yet I seem to know the name. Oh dear me!"

"Question 6, and last but one, " ("That's a comfort, " sighed Stephen). "Mathematics. What is a minus? Describe its shape, and say how manyare left when the whole is divided by seven. Reduce your answer tovulgar decimals. "

"I'm certain I can never do that. Minus? Minus? I know the name, too. But here's the last. "

"Question 7. Miscellaneous. Give a brief history of your own life fromthe earliest times, being particular to state your vicious deeds inchronological order. "

Stephen sighed a sigh of relief. "I can answer that, after a fashion, "he said; "but I can't even then be sure of all the dates. As for theothers--" and he dashed the paper down on the table with an air ofbewildered despair. 

"What am I to do? They are all too hard for me. Oh! I wish I mightjust show them to Oliver. If I was only at home, mother could help me. Oh, dear! I wish I had never come here!"

And he gave himself over to the extreme of misery, and sat staring atthe wall until the twelve bell rang, and Oliver and Wraysford broke inon his solitude. 

"Hullo, young 'un; in the dumps? Never mind; you'll be used to it in aday or two, won't he, Wray?"

"Of course you will, " said Wraysford, cheerily; "it's hard lines atfirst. Keep your pecker up, young 'un. "

The young 'un, despite this friendly advice, felt very far from keepingup his pecker. But he did his best, and worked his face into amelancholy sort of a smile. 

"Fish us my spike shoes out of that cupboard, Stee, there's a goodfellow, " said Oliver, "and come along to the cricket-field. There's abig practice on this afternoon. "

Stephen hesitated. 

"I've got to do my exam before ten to-morrow. Some one brought me upthe paper and said so. Perhaps I'd better stop here and do it?"

"I thought you weren't to be had up till the Doctor came back. Whobrought you the paper? I suppose it was Jellicott, the second master?"

"I suppose so, " said Stephen, who had never heard of Mr Jellicott inhis life before. 

"Let's have a look at it, " said the elder brother. 

"I promised I wouldn't. "

"Oh, all serene; I only wanted to see the questions. It's a new dodgegiving papers, isn't it, Wray? We were examined _viva voce_ in theDoctor's study. Well, come on, old man, or we shall be late. You'llhave lots of time for that this evening. "

And off they went, the wretched Stephen wrestling mentally with hisproblems all the while. 

Of course, profound reader, you have made the brilliant discovery bythis time that Master Stephen Greenfield was a very green boy. So wereyou and I at his age; and so, after all, we are now. For the more wethink we know, the greener we shall find we are; that's a fact!

CHAPTER FOUR. 

FAGGING. 

There is a queer elasticity about boys which no one, least of allthemselves, can account for. A quarter of an hour after the bigpractice had begun Stephen had forgotten all about his examination, andcould think of nothing but cricket. 

As he sat cross-legged on the grass among half a dozen youngsters likehimself, he even began to forget that he was a new boy, and wassurprised to find himself holding familiar converse with one and anotherof his companions. 

"Well bowled, sir!" shouted Master Paul, as a very swift ball fromRicketts took Bullinger's middle stump clean out of theground--"rattling well bowled! I say, " he added, turning round; "ifRicketts bowls like that to-day week, the others will be nowhere. "

"Oh, " said Stephen, to whom this remark seemed to be addressed. 

Master Paul looked sharply round. 

"Hullo, young 'un, is that you? Jolly good play, isn't it? Who are youfor, A or Z?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mean? Do you back the A's or the Z's? that's what I mean. Oh, Isuppose you don't twig, though. A to M, you know, against N to Z. "

"Oh, " said Stephen, "I back the A to M's, of course; my brother is inthat half. "

"So he is--isn't that him going in now? Yes; you see if Rickettsdoesn't get him out in the first over!"

Stephen watched most eagerly and anxiously. They were not playing aregular game, only standing up to be bowled at in front of the nets, orfielding at fixed places; but each ball, and each hit, and each piece offielding, was watched and applauded as if a victory depended on it, forout of those playing to-day the two elevens for the Alphabet match wereto be chosen; and out of those two elevens, as every one knew, theSchool eleven, which would play the County in June, was to be selected. Oliver, despite Paul's prophecy, stood out several overs of Rickett's, and Loman's, and the school captain's, one after the other, cutting someof their balls very hard, and keeping a very steady guard over hiswicket. At last a ball of Loman's got past him and snicked off hisbails. 

Stephen looked inquiringly round at Paul, and then at the small knot ofSixth fellows who were making notes of each candidate's play. 

"He's all right, " said Paul; "I guess Raleigh, " (that was the schoolcaptain) "didn't fancy his balls being licked about like that. Nevermind--there goes Braddy in. "

And so the practice went on, each candidate for the honour of a place inthe eleven submitting to the ordeal, and being applauded or despisedaccording as he acquitted himself. Wraysford, of course, came out ofthe trial well, as he always did. 

"I declare, the Fifth could lick the Sixth this year, Tom, " said Pemburyto Tom Senior, as they sat together looking on. 

"I'm sure they could; I hope we challenge them. "

Just then a Sixth Form fellow strolled up to where the speakers werestanding. 

"I say, Loman, " said Pembury, "we were just saying our men could lickyours all to fits. Don't you think so yourself?"

"Can't say I do; but you are such a wonderful lot of heroes, you Fifth, that there's no saying what you couldn't do if you tried, " repliedLoman, with a sneer. 

"But you take such precious good care we shall not try, that's just it, "said Pembury, winking at his companion. "Never mind, we'll astonish yousome day, " growled the editor of the _Dominican_ as he hobbled away. 

Loman strolled up to where the small boys were sitting. 

"Which of you is young Greenfield?" he said. 

"I am, " said Stephen, promptly. 

"Run with this letter to the post, then, and bring me back some stampswhile you are there, and get tea ready for two in my study by half-pastsix--do you hear?"

And off he went, leaving Stephen gaping at the letter in his hand, andquite bewildered as to the orders about tea. 

Master Paul enjoyed his perplexity. 

"I suppose you thought you were going to get off fagging. I say, you'llhave to take that letter sharp, or you'll be late. "

"Where's the post-office?"

"About a mile down Maltby Road. Look here, as you are going there, getme a pound of raisins, will you?--there's a good chap. We'll square upto-night. "

Stephen got up and started on his errands in great disgust. 

He didn't see why he was to be ordered about and sent jobs for the otherboys, just at a time, too, when he was enjoying himself. However, itcouldn't be helped. 

Three or four fellows stopped him as he walked with the letter in hishand to the gates. 

"Oh, are you going to the post? Look here, young 'un, just call in atSplicer's about my bat, will you? thanks awfully!" said one. 

Another wanted him to buy a sixpenny novel at the library; a thirdcommissioned him to invest threepence in "mixed sweets, chieflypeppermint;" and a fourth to call at Grounding, the naturalist's, with adead white mouse which the owner wanted stuffed. 

After this, Stephen--already becoming a little more knowing--stuffed theletter in his pocket, and took care, if ever he passed any one, not tolook as if he was going anywhere, for fear of being entrusted with afurther mission. 

He discharged all his errands to the best of his ability, including thatrelating to the dead mouse, which he had great difficulty in rescuingfrom the clutches of a hungry dog on the way down, and then returnedwith Paul's raisins in one pocket, the mixed sweets in another, the bookin another, and the other boy's bat over his shoulder. 

Paul was awaiting him at the gate of Saint Dominic's. 

"Got them?" he shouted out, when Stephen was still twenty yards off. 

Stephen nodded. 

"How much?" inquired Paul. 

"Eighteenpence. "

"You duffer! I didn't mean them--pudding raisins I meant, aboutsixpence. I say, you'd better take them back, hadn't you?"

This was gratitude! "I can't now, " said Stephen. 

"I've got to get somebody's tea ready--I say, where's his study?"

"Whose? Loman's? Oh, it's about the eighth on the right in the thirdpassage; next to the one with the kicks on it. What a young muff youare to get this kind of raisin! I say, you'd have plenty of time tochange them. "

"I really wouldn't, " said Stephen, hurrying off, and perhaps guessingthat before he met Mr Paul again the raisins would be past changing. 

The boy to whom belonged the mixed sweets was no more grateful than Paulhad been. 

"You've chosen the very ones I hate, " he said, surveying the selectionwith a look of disgust. 

"You said peppermint, " said Stephen. 

"But I didn't say green, beastly things!" grumbled the other. "Here, you can have one of them, it's sure to make you sick!"

Stephen said "Thank you, " and went off to deliver up the bat. 

"What a time you've been!" was all the thanks he got in that quarter. "Why couldn't you come straight back with it?"

This was gratifying. Stephen was learning at least one lesson thatafternoon--that a fag, if he ever expects to be thanked for anything hedoes, is greatly mistaken. He went off in a highly injured frame ofmind to Loman's study. 

Master Paul's directions might have been more explicit--"The eighth dooron the right; next to the one with the kicks. " Now, as it happened, thedoor with the kicks on it was itself the eighth door on the right, witha study on either side of it, and which of these two was Loman's Stephencould not by the unaided light of nature determine. He peeped intoNumber 7; it was empty. 

"Perhaps he's cut his name on the door, " thought Stephen. 

He might have done so, but as there were about fifty different letterscut on the door, he was not much wiser for that. 

"I'd better look and see if his name is on his collars, " Stephen nextreflected, remembering with what care his mother had marked his ownlinen. 

He opened a drawer; it was full of jam-pots. At that moment the dooropened behind him, and the next thing Stephen was conscious of was thathe was half-stunned with a terrific box on the ears. 

"Take that, you young thief!" said the indignant owner of the study;"I'll teach you to stick your finger in my jam. What do you mean byit?" and a cuff served as a comma between each sentence. 

"I really didn't--I only wanted--I was looking for--"

"That'll do; don't tell lies as well as steal; get away. "

"I never stole anything!" began Stephen, whose confusion was beingrapidly followed by indignation at this unjust suspicion. 

"That'll do. A little boy like you shouldn't practise cheating. Offyou go! If I catch you again I'll take you to the Doctor. "

In vain Stephen, now utterly indignant, and burning with a sense ofinjustice, protested his innocence. He could not get a hearing, andpresently found himself out in the passage, the most miserable boy inall Saint Dominic's. 

He wandered disconsolately along the corridor, trying hard to keep downhis tears, and determined to beg and beseech his brother to let himreturn home that very evening, when Loman and a friend confronted him. 

"Hullo, I say, is tea ready?" demanded the former. 

"No, " said Stephen, half choking. 

"Why ever not, when I told you?"

Stephen looked at him, and tried to speak, and then finally burst intotears. 

"Here's an oddity for you! Why, what's the row, youngster?"

"Nothing, " stammered Stephen. 

"That's a queer thing to howl at. If you were weeping because youhadn't made my tea, I could understand it. Come along, I'll show youhow to do it this time, young greenhorn. "

Stephen accompanied him mechanically, and was ushered into the study onthe other side of the door with the kicks to that in which he had beenso grievously wronged. 

He watched Loman prepare the meal, and was then allowed to depart, withorders to be in the way, in case he should be wanted. 

Poor Stephen! Things were going from bad to worse, and life was alreadya burden to him. And besides--that exam paper! It now suddenly dawnedupon him. Here it was nearly seven o'clock, and by ten to-morrow he wasto deliver it up to Dr Senior!

How _ever_ was he to get through it? He darted off to Oliver's study. It was empty, and he sat down, and drawing out the paper, made a dash atthe first question. 

The answer _wouldn't_ come! Parse "Oh, ah!"

"Oh" is an interjection agreeing with "ah. "

"Ah" is an interjection agreeing with "oh. " It wouldn't do. He musttry again. 

"Why, " cried the voice of Wraysford, half an hour later, "here's apicture of industry for you, Greenfield. That young brother of yours isbeginning well!"

Stephen hurriedly caught up his papers for fear any one should catch aglimpse of the hopeless attempts at answers which he had written. Hewas greatly tempted to ask Oliver about "Mr Finis, " only he hadpromised not to get any help. 

"Let's have a look at the questions, " again demanded Oliver, but at thatmoment Loman's voice sounded down the passage. 

"Greenfield junior, where are you?"

Stephen, quite glad of this excuse for again refusing to show thatwretched paper, jumped up, and saying, "There's Loman wants his teacleared away, " vanished out of the room. 

Poor Stephen! There was little chance of another turn at his paper thatnight. By the time Loman's wants had been attended to, and hisdirections for future fagging delivered, the prayer-bell rang, and forthe half-hour following prayers the new boy was hauled away by MasterPaul into the land of the Guinea-pigs, there to make the acquaintance ofsome of his future class-fellows, and to take part in a monsterindignation meeting against the monitors for forbidding single wicketcricket in the passage, with a door for the wicket, an old inkpot forthe ball, and a ruler for the bat. Stephen quite boiled with rage tohear of this act of tyranny, and vowed vengeance along with all the resttwenty times over, and almost became reconciled with his enemy of themorning (but not quite) in the sympathy of emotion which thisdemonstration evoked. 

Then, just as the memory of that awful paper rushed back into his mind, and he was meditating sneaking off to his brother's study, the firstbed-bell sounded. 

"Come on, " said Paul, "or they'll bag our blankets. "

Stephen, wondering, and shivering at the bare idea, raced along thepassage and up the staircase with his youthful ally to the dormitory. There they found they had been anticipated by the blanket-snatchers; andas they entered, one of these, the hero of the inky head, wasdeliberately abstracting one of those articles of comfort from Stephen'sown bed. 

"There's young Bramble got your blanket, Greenfield, " cried Paul, "pitchinto him!"

Stephen, nothing loth, marched up to Master Bramble and demanded hisblanket. A general engagement ensued, some of the inhabitants of thedormitory siding with Stephen, and some with Bramble, until it seemed asif the coveted blanket would have parted in twain. In the midst of theconfusion a sentry at the door suddenly put his head in and shouted"Nix!" The signal had a magical effect on all but the uninitiatedStephen, who, profiting by his adversaries' surprise, made one desperatetug at his blanket, which he triumphantly rescued. 

"Look sharp, " said Paul, "here comes Rastle. " Mr Rastle was the smallboys' tutor and governor. Stephen took the hint, and was very sooncurled up, with his brave blanket round him, in bed, where, despite thedespairing thought of his paper, the cruel injustice of the owner of thejam-pots, and the general hardness of his lot, he could not help feelinghe was a good deal more at home at Saint Dominic's than he had ever yetfound himself. 

Of one thing he was determined. He would be up at six next morning, andmake one last desperate dash at his exam paper. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

SHAKING DOWN TO WORK. 

"Master Greenfield, junior, is to go to the head master's study athalf-past nine, " called out Mr Roach, the school porter, putting hishead into the dormitory, at seven o'clock next morning. 

Stephen had been up an hour, making fearful and wonderful shots ofanswers to his awful questions, half of which he had already ticked offas done for better or worse. "If I write _something_ down to each, "thought he to himself, "I might happen to get one thing right; it'll bebetter than putting down no answer at all. "

"Half-past nine!" said he to Paul, on hearing this announcement; "_ten_was the time I was told. "

"Who told you?"

"The gentleman who gave me my paper. "

"What paper? you don't have papers. It's _viva voce_. "

"I've got a paper, anyhow, " said Stephen, "and a precious hard one, too, and I've only half done it. "

"Well, you'll have to go at half-past nine, or you'll catch it, " saidPaul. "I say, there's Loman calling you. "

Stephen, who, since the indignation meeting last night, had felt himselfgrow very rebellious against the monitors, did not choose to hear thecall in question, and tried his hardest to make another shot at hispaper. But he could not keep deaf when Loman himself opened the door, and pulling his ear inquired what he meant by not coming when he wastold? The new boy then had to submit, and sulkily followed his lord tohis study, there to toast some bread at a smoky fire, and look for abouthalf an hour for a stud that Loman said had rolled under the chest ofdrawers, but which really had fallen into one of that gentleman's boots. 

By the time these labours were over, and Stephen had secured a mouthfulof breakfast in his brother's study, it was time to go down to prayers;and after prayers he had but just time to wonder what excuse he shouldmake for only answering half his questions, when the clock pointed tothe half-hour, and he had to scuttle off as hard as he could to theDoctor's study. 

Dr Senior was a tall, bald man, with small, sharp eyes, and with aface as solemn as an owl's. He looked up as Stephen entered. 

"Come in, my man. Let me see; Greenfield? Oh, yes. You got here onTuesday. How old are you?"

"Nearly eleven, sir, " said Stephen, with the paper burning in hispocket. 

"Just so; and I dare say your brother has shown you over the school, andhelped to make you feel at home. Now suppose we just run through whatyou have learned at home. "

Now was the time. With a sigh as deep as the pocket from which hepulled it, Stephen produced that miserable paper. 

"I'm very sorry, sir, " he began, "I've not had time--"

"Tut, tut!" said the Doctor; "put that away, and let us get on. "

Stephen stared. "It's the paper you gave me!" he said. 

The Doctor frowned. "I hope you are not a silly boy, " he said, rathercrossly. 

"I'm afraid they are all wrong, " said Stephen; "the questions were--were--rather hard. "

"What questions?" exclaimed the Doctor, a trifle impatient, and a triflepuzzled. 

"These you sent me, " said Stephen, humbly handing in the paper. 

"Hum! some mistake; let's see, perhaps Jellicott--ah!" and he put on hisglasses and unfolded the paper. 

"Question 1. Grammar!" and then a cloud of amazement fell over theDoctor's face. He looked sharply out from under his spectacles atStephen, who stood anxiously and nervously before him. Then he glancedagain at the paper, and his mouth twitched now and then as he read thestring of questions, and the boy's desperate attempts to answer them. 

"Humph!" he said, when the operation was over, "I'm afraid, Greenfield, you are not a very clever boy--"

"I know I'm not, sir, " said Stephen, quite relieved that the Doctor didnot at once order him to quit Saint Dominic's. 

"Or you would have seen that this paper was a practical joke. " Then itburst all of a sudden on Stephen. And all this about "Mr Finis", "Oh, ah, " and the rest of it had been a cruel hoax, and no more!

"Come, now, let us waste no more time. I'm not surprised, " said theDoctor, suppressing a smile by a very hard twitch; "I'm not surprisedyou found these questions hard. How far have you got in arithmetic?"

And then the Doctor launched Stephen into a _viva voce_ examination, inwhich that young prodigy of learning acquitted himself far morefavourably than could have been imagined, and at the end of which heheard that he would be placed in the fourth junior class, where it wouldbe his duty to strain every nerve to advance, and make the best use ofhis time at Saint Dominic's. Then the Doctor rang his bell. 

"Tell Mr Rastle kindly to step here, " said he to the porter. 

Mr Rastle appeared, and to his charge, after solemnly shaking hands andpromising to be a paragon of industry and good conduct, Stephen wasconsigned by the head master. 

"By the way, " said the Doctor, as Stephen was leaving, "will you tellthe boy who gave you this paper I wish to see him?"

Stephen, who had been too much elated by the result of the realexamination to recollect for the moment the trickery of the sham one, now blushed very red as he remembered what a goose he had been, andundertook to obey the Doctor's order. And this it was very easy to do. For as he opened the study-door he saw Pembury just outside, leaningagainst the wall with his eyes on the clock as it struck ten. 

As he caught sight of Stephen emerging from the head master's study, hiscountenance fell, and he said eagerly and half-anxiously, "Didn't I tellyou ten o'clock, Greenfield?"

"Yes, but the Doctor said half-past nine. And you are a cad to make afool of me, " added Stephen, rising with indignation, "and--and--and--"and here he choked. 

"Calm yourself, my young friend, " said Pembury. "It's such a hard thingto make a fool of you that, you know, and--and--and--!"

"I shall not speak to you, " stammered Stephen. 

"Oh, don't apologise, " laughed Pembury. "Perhaps it would comfort youto kick me. Please choose my right leg, as the other is off the ground, eh?"

"The Doctor wants to speak to you, he says, " said Stephen. 

Pembury's face fell again. "Do you mean to say he saw the paper, andyou told him?" he said, angrily. 

"I showed him the paper, because I thought he had sent it; but I didn'ttell him who gave it to me. "

"Then why does he want me?"

"He wants the boy who gave me the paper, that's all he said, " answeredStephen, walking off sulkily to his quarters, and leaving Anthony toreceive the rebukes of Dr Senior, and make his apologies for his evildeeds as best he could. 

The offence after all was not a very terrible one, and Pembury got offwith a mild reprimand on the evils of practical joking, at the end ofwhich he found himself in his usual amiable frame of mind, andharbouring no malice against his innocent victim. 

"Greenfield, " said he, when shortly afterwards he met Oliver, "I oweyour young brother an apology. "

"What on earth for?"

"I set him an examination paper to answer, which I'm afraid caused himsome labour. Never mind, it was all for the best. "

"What, did that paper he was groaning over come from you? What a shame, Tony, to take advantage of a little beggar like him!"

"I'm awfully sorry, tell him; but I say, Greenfield, it'll make asplendid paragraph for the _Dominican_. By the way, are you going tolet me have that poem you promised on the Guinea-pigs?"

"I can't get on with it at all, " said Oliver. "I'm stuck for a rhyme inthe second line. "

"Oh, stick down anything. How does it begin?"

 "`Oh, dwellers in the land of dim perpetual, '"

began Oliver. 

"Very good; let's see; how would this do?--

 "`I hate the day when first I met you all, And this I undertake to bet you all, One day I'll into trouble get you all, And down the playground steps upset you all, And with a garden hose I'll wet you all, And then--'"

"Oh, look here, " said Oliver, "that'll do. You may as well finish thething right out at that rate. "

"Not at all, my dear fellow. It was just a sudden inspiration, youknow. Don't mention it, and you may like to get off that rhyme intoanother. But I say, Greenfield, we shall have a stunning paper for thefirst one. Tom Senior has written no end of a report of the lastmeeting of the Sixth Form Debating Society, quite in the parliamentarystyle; and Bullinger is writing a history of Saint Dominic's, `gatheredfrom the earliest sources, ' as he says, in which he's taking off most ofthe Sixth. Simon is writing a love-ballad, which is sure to be fun; andRicketts is writing a review of Liddell and Scott's _Lexicon_; andWraysford is engaged on `The Diary of the Sixth Form Mouse. '"

"Good!" said Oliver, "and what are _you_ writing?"

"Oh, the leading article, you know, and the personal notes, and `Squeaksfrom Guineapigland and Tadpoleopolis, ' and some of the advertisements. Come up to my study, you and Wray, this evening after prayers, I say, and we'll go through it. "

And off hobbled the editor of the _Dominican_, leaving Oliver greatlyimpressed with his literary talents, especially in the matter of findingrhymes for "perpetual. "

By the time he and Wraysford went in the evening to read over what hadbeen sent in, the poem on the Guinea-pigs was complete. 

They found Pembury busy over a huge sheet of paper, the size of histable. 

"What on earth have you got there?" cried Wraysford. 

"The _Dominican_, to be sure, " said Anthony, gravely. 

"Nonsense! you are not going to get it out in that shape?"

"I am, though. Look here, you fellows, " said Anthony, "I'll show youthe dodge of the thing. The different articles will either be copied orpasted into this big sheet. You see each of these columns is just thewidth of a sheet of school paper. Well, here's a margin all round--doyou twig?--so that when the whole thing's made up it'll be ready forframing. "

"Framing!" exclaimed Greenfield and his friend. 

"To be sure. I'm getting a big frame, with glass, made for it, with thetitle of the paper in big letters painted on the wood. So the way weshall publish it will be to hang it outside our class-room, and thenevery one can come and read it who likes--much better than passing itround to one fellow at a time. "

"Upon my word, Tony, it's a capital notion, " exclaimed Wraysford, clapping the lame boy on the back; "it does you credit, my boy. "

"Don't mention it, " said Tony; "and don't whack me like that again, orI'll refuse to insert your `Diary of the Sixth Form Mouse. '"

"But, I say, " said Greenfield, "are you sure they'll allow it to hangout there? It may get knocked about. "

"I dare say we may have a row with the monitors about it; but we mustsquare them somehow. We shall have to keep a fag posted beside it, though, to protect it. "

"And to say `Move on!' like the policemen, " added Wraysford. "Well, it's evident you don't want any help, Tony, so I'll go. "

"Good-bye; don't ask me to your study for supper, please. "

"I'm awfully sorry, I promised Bullinger. I know he has a dozensausages in his cupboard. Come along there. Are you coming, Greenfield?"

And the worthy friends separated for a season. 

Meanwhile, Stephen had made his _debut_ in the Fourth Junior. He wasput to sit at the bottom desk of the class, which happened to be next tothe desk owned by Master Bramble, the inky-headed blanket-snatcher. This young gentleman, bearing in mind his double humiliation, seemed byno means gratified to find who his new neighbour was. 

"Horrid young blub-baby!" was his affectionate greeting, "I don't wantyou next to me. "

"I can't help it, " said Stephen. "I was put here. "

"Oh, yes, because you're such an ignorant young sneak; that's why. "

"I suppose that's why you were at the bottom before I came--oh!"

The last exclamation was uttered aloud, being evoked by a dig from theamiable Master Bramble's inky pen into Stephen's leg. 

"Who was that?" said Mr Rastle, looking up from his desk. 

"Now then, " whispered Bramble, "sneak away--tell tales, and get me intoa row--I'll pay you!"

Stephen, feeling himself called upon, stood up. 

"It was me, " he said. 

"It was I, would be better grammar, " said Mr Rastle, quietly. 

Mr Rastle was a ruddy young man, with a very good-humoured face, and asly smile constantly playing at the corners of his mouth. He no doubtguessed the cause of the disturbance, for he asked, "Was any onepinching you?"

"Go it, " growled Bramble, in a savage whisper. "Say it was me, yousneak. "

Stephen said, No, no one had pinched him; but finished up his sentencewith another "Oh!" as the gentle Bramble gave him a sharp side-kick onthe ankle as he stood. 

Mr Rastle's face darkened as he perceived this last piece of by-play. 

"Bramble, " said he, "oblige me by standing on the form for half an hour. I should be sorry to think you were as objectionable as your nameimplies. Sit down, Greenfield. "

And then the class resumed, with Master Bramble perched like a statue ofthe sulky deity on his form, muttering threats against Greenfield allthe while, and the most scathing denunciations against all who might beeven remotely connected with big brothers, and mammies, and blub-babies. 

Stephen, who was beginning to feel himself much more at home at SaintDominic's, betrayed no visible terror at these menaces, and only oncetook any notice of his exalted enemy, when the latter attempted not onlyto stand on the form, but upon a tail of Stephen's jacket, and a bit ofthe flesh of his leg at the same time. Then he gave the offending foota knock with his fist and an admonitory push. 

"Please, sir, " squeaked the lordly Bramble, "Greenfield junior is tryingto knock me over. "

"I was not, " shouted Stephen; "he was squashing me with his foot, and Imoved it away. "

"Really, Bramble, " said Mr Rastle, "you are either very unfortunate orvery badly behaved. Come and stand on this empty form beside my desk. There will be no danger here of `squashing' any one's leg or of beingknocked over. Come at once. "

So Mr Bramble took no advantage by his last motion, and served the restof his term of penal servitude, in the face of the entire class, underthe immediate eye of Mr Rastle. 

Directly class was over, Stephen had to go and wait upon Loman for aparticular purpose, which the reader must hear of in due time. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

MR CRIPPS THE YOUNGER. 

Loman was a comparatively new boy at Saint Dominic's. He had enteredeighteen months ago, in the Fifth Form, having come direct from anotherschool. He was what many persons would call an agreeable boy, althoughfor some reason or other he was never very popular. What that somethingwas, no one could exactly define. He was clever, and good-tempered, andinoffensive. He rarely quarrelled or interfered with any one, and hehad been known to do more than one good-natured act. But whether it wasthat he was conceited, or selfish, or not quite straight, or a littlebit of all three, he never made any very great friends at SaintDominic's, and since he had got into the Sixth and been made a monitor, he had quite lost the favour of his old comrades in the Fifth. 

As far as Wraysford and Greenfield were concerned, this absence ofgoodwill had ripened into something like soreness, by the way in whichLoman had made use of his own position as a monitor, on a casualreference by Oliver to the probable coming of Stephen to SaintDominic's, to secure that young gentleman as his fag, although he quitewell knew that Wraysford was counting on having him. Though of coursethe captain's word was final, the two friends felt that they had notbeen quite fairly dealt with in the matter. They took no trouble toconceal what they thought from Loman himself, who seemed to deriveconsiderable satisfaction from the fact, and to determine to keep hishand on the new boy quite as much for the sake of "scoring off" hisrivals as on the fag's own account. 

Loman, Wraysford, and Greenfield _were_ rivals in more matters than one. They were all three candidates for a place in the school eleven, andall three candidates for the Nightingale Scholarship next autumn; andbesides this, they each of them aspired to control the JuniorDominicans; and it was a sore mortification to Loman to find that, though a monitor, his influence among the small fry was by no means asgreat as that of the two Fifth Form boys, who were notoriously popular, and thought much of by their juniors. 

For these and other reasons, the relations between the two friends andLoman were at the present time a little "strained. "

To Stephen, however, Loman was all civility. He helped him in hislessons, and gave him the reversion of his feasts, and exercised hismonitorial authority against Master Bramble in a way that quite charmedthe new boy, and made him consider himself fortunate to have fallen intothe hands of so considerate a lord. 

When he entered Loman's study after his first morning's work in class, he found that youth in a highly amiable frame of mind, and delighted tosee him. 

"Hullo, Greenfield!" he said; "how are you? and how are you getting on?I hear you are in the Fourth Junior; all among the Guinea-pigs andTadpoles, eh? Which do you belong to?"

"I don't know, " said Stephen; "they are going to draw lots for meto-morrow. "

"That's a nice way of being elected! I say, have you any classes thisafternoon?"

"No; Mr Rastle has given us a half-holiday. "

"That's just the thing. I'm going to scull up the river a bit afterdinner, and if you'd like you can come and steer for me. "

Stephen was delighted. Of all things he liked boating. They lived neara river at home, he said, and he always used to steer for Oliver there. 

So, as soon as dinner was over, the two went down to the boathouse andembarked. 

"Which way shall you row?" asked Stephen, as he made himself comfortablein the stern of the boat, and took charge of the rudder-lines. 

"Oh, up stream. Keep close in to the bank, out of the current. "

It was a beautiful afternoon, and Loman paddled lazily and luxuriouslyup, giving ample time to Stephen, if so inclined, to admire the woodedbanks and picturesque windings of the Shar. Gusset Lock was reached indue time, and here Loman suggested that Stephen should get out and goround and look at the weir, while he went on and took the boat through. Stephen acceded and landed, and Loman paddled on to the lock. 

"Hello, maister, " called down a feeble old voice, as he got up to thegate. 

"Hullo, Jeff, is Cripps about?" replied Loman. 

"Yas; he be inside or somewheres, maister, " replied the old lock-keeper. 

"All right! take the boat up; I want to see Cripps. "

Cripps was the son of the old man whom Loman had addressed as Jeff. Hewas not exactly a gentleman, for he kept the Cockchafer public-house atMaltby, and often served behind the bar in his own person. Neither washe altogether a reputable person, for he frequently helped himself to anoverdose of his own beverages, besides being a sharp hand at billiards, and possessing several packs of cards with extra aces in them. Neitherwas he a particularly refined personage, for his choice of words wasoften more expressive than romantic, and his ordinary conversation wasfrequently the reverse of edifying; it mainly had to do with details ofthe stable or the card-room, and the anecdotes with which he enlivenedit were often "broader than they were long, " to put it mildly. Inshort, Cripps was a blackguard by practice, whatever he was byprofession. He had, however, one redeeming virtue; he was very partialto young gentlemen, and would go a good bit out of his way to meet one. He always managed to know of something that young gentlemen had a fancyfor. He could put them into the way of getting a thoroughbred bull-dogdirt-cheap; he could put them up to all the tips at billiards and "Nap, "and he could make up a book for them on the Derby or any other race, that was bound to win. And he did it all in such a pleasant, frank waythat the young gentlemen quite fell in love with him, and entrustedtheir cash to him with as much confidence as if he were the Bank ofEngland. 

Of all the young gentlemen whose privilege it had been to make theacquaintance of Mr Cripps--and there were a good many--he professed thegreatest esteem and admiration for Loman, of Saint Dominic's school, towhom he had been only recently introduced. The two had met at thelock-keeper's house a week ago, when Loman was detained there an hour ortwo by stress of weather, and, getting into conversation, as gentlemennaturally would, Loman chanced to mention that he wanted to come acrossa really good fishing-rod. 

By a most curious coincidence, Mr Cripps had only the other day beenasked by a particular friend of his, who was removing from the countryto London--"where, " said Mr Cripps, "there ain't over much use for arod, "--if he knew of any one in want of a really good fishing-rod. Itwas none of your ordinary ones, made out of green wood with pewterjoints, but a regular first-class article, and would do for trout orperch or jack, or any mortal fish you could think of. Cripps had seenit, and flattered himself he knew something about rods, but had neverseen one to beat this. Reel and all, too, and a book of flies into thebargain, if he liked. He had been strongly tempted to get it forhimself--it seemed a downright sin to let such a beauty go--and wouldhave it if he had not already got a rod, but of a far inferior sort, ofhis own. And he believed his friend would part with it cheap. 

"I tell you what, young gentleman, " said he, "I'll bring it up with menext time I come, and you shall have a look at it. Of course, you cantake it or not, as you like, but if my advice is worth anything--well, never mind, I suppose you are sure to be up stream in the course of thenext week or so. "

"Oh, yes, " said Loman, who in the presence of this universal genius wasquite deferential; "when can you bring it?"

"Well, my time ain't so very valuable, and I'd like to oblige you overthis little affair. Suppose we say to-day week. I'll have the rodhere, and you can try him. "

"Thank you--have you--that is--about what--"

"You mean, about what figure will he want for it? Well, I don't knowexactly. They run so very various, do good rods. You could get whatthey call a rod for ten bob, I dare say. But _you_ wouldn't hardlyfancy that style of thing. "

"Oh no; if it was a really good one, " said Loman, "I wouldn't mindgiving a good price. I don't want a rotten one. "

"That's just it. This one I'm telling you of is as sound as a bell, andas strong as iron. And _you_ know, as well as I do, these things arealways all the better after a little use. My friend has only used thistwice. But I'll find out about the price, and drop you a line, youknow. May be 2 pounds or 3 pounds, or so. "

"I suppose that's about what a really good rod ought to cost?" saidLoman, who liked to appear to know what was what, but secretly rathertaken aback by this estimate. 

"So it is. It's just a guess of mine though; but I know for _me_ he'llput it as low as he can. "

"I'm sure I shall be very much obliged to you, " said Loman, "if you canmanage it for me. "

"Not at all, young gentleman. I always like to oblige where I can;besides, you would do as much for me, I'll wager. Well, good-day, Mr--what's your name?"

"Loman--at Saint Dominic's. You'll send me a line, then about theprice?"

"Yes, sir. Good-day, sir. "

But Mr Cripps had forgotten to send the line, and to-day, when Loman, according to arrangement, came up to the lock-keeper's to receive therod, the keeper of the Cockchafer was most profuse in his apologies. Hewas most sorry, but his friend had been ill and not able to attend tobusiness. He had been a _trifle_ afraid from what he heard that he wasnot quite as anxious to part with that rod as formerly. But Cripps hadgone over on purpose and seen him, and got his promise that he shouldhave it to-morrow certain, and if Mr Loman would call or send up, itshould be ready for him, without fail. 

At this stage, Stephen, having explored the weir, rejoined hisschoolfellow, and the two, after partaking of a bottle of ginger-beer atMr Cripps's urgent request, returned with the stream to SaintDominic's. 

The result of this delay was to make Loman doubly anxious to secure thisfamous fishing-rod, on which his heart was set. Next day, however, hehad classes all the afternoon, and could not go himself. He thereforedetermined to send Stephen. 

"I want you to run up to Gusset Weir, " said he to his fag, "to fetch mea rod the keeper's son is getting for me. Be quick back, will you? andask him what the price is. "

So off Stephen trotted, as soon as school was over, in spite of thecounter attraction of a Guinea-pig cricket match. When he reached thelock, Cripps had not arrived. 

"He warn't be long, young maister, " said old Jeff, who was one of thesnivelling order. "Take a seat, do 'ee. Nice to be a young gemm'un, Isays--us poor coves as works wery 'ard, we'd like to be young gemm'untoo, with lots o' money, and all so comfortable off. Why, youngmaister, you don't know now what it is to be in want of a shillun. Ido!"

Stephen promptly pulled out one of his five shillings of pocket-money inanswer to this appeal, and felt rather ashamed to appear "comfortableoff" in the presence of this patriarch. 

"Not that I complains o' my lot, young gemm'un, " continued old Cripps, pulling his forelock with one hand and pocketing the shilling with theother. "No, I says, the honest working man don't do no gooda-grumblin', but when he's got his famerly to feed, " [old Cripps was awidower, and his family consisted of the landlord of the Cockchafer], "and on'y this here shillin' to do it with--"

Stephen was _very_ green. He almost cried at the sight of thisdestitute, tottering, honest old man, and before the latter could getfarther in his lament another shilling was in his palsied old hand, andthe grey old forelock was enduring another tug. 

It was well for Stephen that Mr Cripps junior turned up at thisjuncture, or the entire five shillings might have made its way into theold man's pouch. 

Mr Cripps junior had the rod. He had had a rare job, he said, to getit, for his friend had only yesterday had an offer of 3 pounds 15shillings, and was all but taking it. However, here it was, and foronly 3 pounds 10 shillings tell Mr Loman; such a bargain as he wouldn'toften make in his life, and he could get him the fly-book for asovereign if he liked. And Mr Cripps would charge him nothing for histrouble. 

After this Mr Cripps junior and the boy got quite friendly. The formerwas greatly interested in hearing about Saint Dominic's, especially whenhe understood Stephen was a new boy. Cripps could remember the day when_he_ was a new boy, and had to fight three boys in three hours the firstafternoon. He was awfully fond of cricket when he was a boy. WasStephen?

"Oh, yes, " said Stephen; "I like it more than anything. "

"Ah, you should have seen the way we played. Bless me! I'd a bat, myboy, that could tip the balls clean over the school-house. You've got abat, of course, or else--"

"No, I haven't, " said Stephen. "I shall get one as soon as I can. "

"Well, that _is_ lucky! Look here, young gentleman, " continued Crippsconfidentially; "I've taken a fancy to you. It's best to be plain andspeak out. I've taken a fancy to you, and you shall have that bat. It's just your size, and the finest bit of willow you ever set eyes on. I'll wager you'll make top score every time you use it. You shall haveit. Never mind about the stumpy--"

"Stumpy!" ejaculated Stephen; "I don't want stumps, only a bat. "

"What I meant to say was, never mind about the price. You can give mewhat you like for it. I wish I could make you a present of it. My eye, it's a prime bat! Spliced! Yes. Treble-cane, as I'm a poor man. I'llsend it up to you, see if I don't, and you can pay when you like. "

And so he chattered on, in a way which quite charmed Stephen, and madehim rejoice in his new friend, and still more at the prospect of thebat. 

"If it's awfully dear, " he said, at parting, with a sort of sigh, "Icouldn't afford it. My pocket-money's nearly all gone. "

He did not say how. 

"Oh, never mind, not if you don't pay at all, " replied the genialCripps. "You'll be having more tin soon, I bet. "

"Not till June, " said Stephen. 

"Well, leave it till June--no matter. But you may as well have the useof the bat now. Good-day, Master Green--"

"Greenfield, Stephen Greenfield, " said Stephen. 

"Good-day, and give my respects to Mr Loman, and I hope I shall see youboth again. "

Stephen hoped so too, and went off, highly elated, with Loman's rodunder his arm. 

Loman pulled rather a long face at hearing the price, and pulled a stilllonger face when Stephen told him about the bat. He read his fag a longlecture about getting into debt and pledging his pocket-money inadvance. 

That evening Stephen was solemnly tossed up for by the Guinea-pigs andTadpoles. "Heads, Guinea-pigs; tails, Tadpoles. " It turned up heads, and from that time forward Greenfield junior was a Guinea-pig. 

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

THE "DOMINICAN, " NUMBER ONE. 

The eventful day had come at last. Anthony and his confederates hadworked hard, evening after evening, in the secrecy of their studies, andthe first number of the _Dominican_ was ready for publication. The bigframe had been smuggled in, and the big sheet was now safely lodgedbehind the glass, with its eight broad columns of clearly-writtenmanuscript all ready to astonish Saint Dominic's. Two nails hadsurreptitiously been driven into the wall outside the Fifth Form room, on which the precious document was to be suspended, and Tony only waitedfor "lights out" to creep down and, with the aid of Ricketts andBullinger, fix it in position. Everything succeeded well. The secrethad been kept most carefully, and when, next morning, Saint Dominic'swoke up and swarmed down the passage past the Fifth Form class-room, thesight of a huge frame, with the words _The Dominican_ staring out fromit, and several yards of writing underneath, fairly startled them. Master Paul, the fag who had been deputed to the no easy task ofpreserving the structure from injury, had a hard time of it, there wassuch a hustling and crowding in front of it whenever classes were notgoing on. The little boys squeezed in front; the bigger boys read overtheir heads; the Sixth examined it from the back of the crowd, and theFifth Form from various positions watched with complacency the effect ofthis venture. 

At first it was looked upon as a curiosity, then as a joke; thengradually it dawned on Saint Dominic's that it was a Fifth Formproduction, and finally it appeared in its true light as a schoolnewspaper. 

Loman, attracted by the crowd of boys, strolled down the passage to theplace and joined the group, just as a small boy was reading aloud thefollowing descriptive extract from:

"Our Special Correspondent in Guinea-pig Land. 

"Last night the ceremony of admitting a new member into the ancient andhonourable craft of Guinea-pigs was celebrated with the usual mysteries. The event took place in the fourth junior class-room. The Guinea-pigsassembled in force, with blackened faces and false whiskers. The lightsbeing put out, Brother Bilke proposed, and Brother Smudge seconded, theelection of the new aspirant, and the motion being put to theGuinea-pigs, was received with a unanimous grunt. The Guinea-pig electwas then admitted. He was classically attired in a pair of slippers anda collar, and the ceremony of initiation at once commenced. Thecandidate was stretched across the lowest desk, face downwards, and inthis position greeted with the flat side of a cricket-bat by the juniorbrother present. He was then advanced to the next desk, where a similarcompliment was paid by the next youngest; and so on to the seniorbrother present. Half way through the ceremony the new member expresseda desire to withdraw his candidature, but this motion was negatived by alarge majority. When our reporter left, the ceremony was being repeatedwith the round side of the bat. We understand the new Guinea-pig iskeeping his bed to-day after the exciting ceremony of initiation. "

This was capital fun, and greatly appreciated by all--even by Stephen, who knew it was intended to represent his own experience, which, mercifully, had not been nearly so sore as pictured. 

But the next extract was not quite as pleasing. 

"Cricket Notice. 

"The Alphabet Match will be played on Saturday. The following are thetwo elevens [and here the list followed]. Of these twenty-two players, it is worthy of mention that fourteen are from the Fifth, and only eightfrom the Sixth. What is our Sixth coming to?"

This was not at all gratifying to the Sixth Form fellows present. Itwas unfortunately true, but they did not at all fancy such prominencebeing given to the fact. The next extract was still more pointed. 

"Sixth Form Debating Society. 

"The usual meeting of the Sixth Form Debating Society was held lastweek, the Doctor in the chair. A sprinkling of lads from the Fifth, intheir Sunday coats and collars, was present, by kind permission. Thesubject for discussion was, `That the present Sixth is degenerate. ' Inthe absence of any member of the Sixth to open the discussion, MasterBramble, captain of the Tadpoles, kindly undertook the task. He had nohesitation in asserting that the Sixth were degenerate. They had fallenoff in cricket since he could remember, and in intellect, he was sorryto say, the falling oil was still worse. If they would take his advice, they would avoid the playground during the present season, and by allmeans withdraw their candidate for the Nightingale Scholarship, as hewas certain to be beaten by boys in a lower form. As to behaviour, hecould point to virtuous behaviour among the Tadpoles, quite equal tothat of the monitors. He didn't wish to ask questions, but would liketo know what they all found so attractive in Maltby. Then, too, theyall oiled their hair. No previous Sixth had ever been guilty of thiseffeminacy, or of wearing lavender kid gloves on Sundays. He repeated, `What were we coming to?'"

"Mr R-g-h opened in the negative. He denied all the charges made bythe young gentleman who had last spoken. He undertook to get up aneleven to beat any eleven the Tadpoles could put into the field; and asto intellect, why, didn't the Tadpoles, some of them, get their sumsdone by the Sixth? Besides, even if their intellect was weak, couldn'tthey use cribs? He didn't use them himself, but he knew one or two whodid. He didn't understand the objection to the hair-oil; he used it tomake the hair sit down on his head. [Raleigh, it should be said, had amost irrepressible bunch of curls on his head. ] He wore kid gloves onSunday because he had had a pair given him by his great-aunt Jane Ann. He maintained the Sixth was not degenerate. 

"Mr L-m-n followed on the same side. He thought it the greatestliberty of any one to discuss the Sixth. He was a Sixth Form fellow, and a monitor, and if he wasn't looked up to he ought to be, and heintended to be. He was in the cricket eleven, and he was intellectual--very, very much so. He was going in for the Nightingale Scholarship, and had no doubt in his own mind as to the result. He hardly understoodhis friend's reference to Maltby. Why shouldn't he go there and takehis fag too if he chose? He didn't see what right the Fifth had to fagsat all. He had a fag, but then he was in the Sixth. His fag admiredhim, and he never told him not to. The Sixth _could not_ be degenerateso long as _he_ was in it. "

"Other speakers followed, including Mr W-r-n, who maintained thatMichael Angelo was a greater musician than Queen Anne. He was herecalled to order, and reminded that Michael Angelo had nothing to do withthe degeneracy of the Sixth. He begged leave to explain--

"At this point our reporter fell asleep. "

The laughter which greeted the reading of this extract was by no meansshared by the Sixth Form boys present, who, had the next selection beenin a similar strain, would have quitted the scene and taken their chanceof satisfying their curiosity as to the rest of the contents of thepaper at a more convenient season. 

But the next lucubration was the unfortunate Stephen's examinationpaper, with the answers thereto embellished, and in many cases bodilysupplied, by the fertile Anthony. The luckless Stephen, who was wedgedup in the front row of readers, could have sunk into the earth onmeeting once more that hateful paper face to face, and feeling himselfan object of ridicule to the whole school. For the wonderful answerswhich now appeared were hardly any of them his own composition, and hedid not even get credit for the few correct things he had said. Shoutsof laughter greeted the reading, during which he dared not lift his eyesfrom the ground. But the answer to Question 6, "What is a minus?" wasmore than human flesh and blood could endure. 

"What is a Minus?"

"`Minus' is derived from two English words, `my, ' meaning my, and `nus, 'which is the London way of pronouncing `nurse. ' My nurse is a dearcreature; I love her still, especially now she doesn't wash my face. Ihated having my face washed. My nurse's name is Mrs Blake, but Ialways call her my own Noodle-oodle-oo. I do love her so! How I wouldlike to hug her! She sewed the strings of my little flannel vest on infront just before I came here because she knew I couldn't tie thembehind by myself--"

"She didn't!" shouted Stephen, in a voice trembling with indignation. 

Poor boy! The laughter which greeted this simple exclamation was enoughto finish up any one, and, with a bursting heart, and a face crimsonwith confusion, he struggled out of the crowd and ran as fast as hislegs would take him to his own class-room. 

But if he imagined in his misery that the whole school was going tospend the entire day jeering at him, and him alone, he was greatlymistaken, for once out of sight Stephen soon passed out of mind inpresence of the next elegant extract read out for the benefit of theassembled audience. This was no other than Simon's "Love-Ballad. "

Simon, it should be known, was one of the dullest boys in SaintDominic's, and it was a standing marvel how he ever came to be in theFifth, for he was both a dunce and an idiot. But he had one ambitionand one idea, which was that he could write poetry; and the followingtouching ballad from his pen he offered to the _Dominican_, and the_Dominican_ showed its appreciation of real talent by inserting it:--

 "A Love-Ballad. 

 "I wish I was a buttercup, Upon the mountain top, That you might sweetly pick me up, And sweetly let me drop. I wish I was a little worm, All rigling in the sun, That I myself towards thee might turn When thou along didst come. Oh, I wish I was a doormat, sweet, All prostrate on the floor, If only thou wouldst wipe thy feet, On me, what could I want more?"

 ["Rigling" is possibly "wriggling". ]

Simon, who, with true poet's instinct, was standing among the crowdlistening to his own poem, was somewhat perplexed by the manner in whichhis masterpiece was received. That every one was delighted there couldbe no doubt. But he had an impression he had meant the ballad to bepathetic. Saint Dominic's, however, had taken it up another way, andappeared to regard it as facetious. At any rate his fame was made, andlooking as if a laurel wreath already encircled his brow, he modestlyretired, feeling no further interest, now his own piece was ended. 

Oliver's poem on the Tadpoles, with its marvellous rhymes, fellcomparatively flat after this; and Bullinger's first chapter of theHistory of Saint Dominic's failed to rivet the attention of theaudience, which, however, became suddenly and painfully absorbed in the"Diary of the Sixth Form Mouse, " from the pen of Wraysford. We mustinflict a few passages from this document on the reader, as the paperwas the cause of some trouble hereafter. 

"Diary of the Sixth Form Mouse. 

"Monday. --Up early and took a good breakfast in one of the desks wherethere was a jam sandwich and several toffee-drops. The Sixth seem tolike jam sandwiches and toffee-drops, there are some of them in nearlyevery desk. The desk I was in had a packet of cigarettes in one corner. They were labelled `Mild. ' I wonder why the Sixth like theircigarettes mild. In the same desk were one or two books written by aman called Bohn; they seemed queer books, for they had Latin and Greeknames outside, but all the reading inside was English. It is sad to seethe quarrelling that goes on in this room. You would not suppose, tosee these monitors walking grandly up and down the passages strikingterror into the hearts of all the small boys, that they could possiblycondescend to quarrel over the possession of an inkpot or the ownershipof an acid-drop found among the cinders. Alas! it is very sad. Theydon't seem anything like the Sixth of old days. I shall emigrate ifthis goes on. 

"Wednesday. --A great row to-day when the Doctor was out of the room. The two senior monitors engaged in a game of marbles--knuckle down--inthe course of which one player accused the other of cheating. There wasnearly a fight, only neither seemed exactly to like to begin, and bothappeared relieved when the Doctor came in and confiscated the marbles. "

And so the diary went on, in a strain highly offensive to the Sixth andequally delighting to the lower forms. After this the Sixth withdrew, not caring to face further taunts of the kind, and leaving a free fieldto the rest of Saint Dominic's, who perused this wonderful broadside tothe end with unflagging interest. Some of the advertisements with whichTony had filled up the gaps caused considerable mirth--such as this: "Agentleman about to clear out his desk, begs to give notice that he willSell by Auction to-morrow after `Lights out, ' all those rare andvaluable articles, to wit:--one and a half gross best cherry-stones, last year's, in excellent condition. About twelve assorted breadcrusts, warranted dry and hard--one with a covering of fossilisedsardine. Six quires of valuable manuscript notes on various subjects, comprising Latin, Greek, Mathematics, French, and Crambo. One apple, well seasoned, and embellished with a brilliant green fur of two years'growth. And many other miscellaneous treasures, such as slate pencils, nutshells, an antique necktie, several defunct silkworms, a noblethree-bladed knife (deficient of the blades), and half a pound of putty. No reserve price. Must be cleared out at whatever sacrifice. "

And this was another:--

"This is to give notice, that whereas certain parties calling themselvesGuinea-pigs have infringed on our patent rights, we, the Tadpoles ofSaint Dominic's, have been and are from time immemorial entitled to theexclusive privilege of appearing in public with dirty faces, uncombedhair, and inky fingers. We have also the sole right of making beasts ofourselves on every possible occasion; and we hereby declare that it isour intention to institute proceedings against all parties, of whatevername, who shall hereafter trespass on these our inalienable rights. Byorder, B. Smudgeface and T. Blacknose, Secretaries. "

This final onslaught broke up the party. The aggrieved Tadpoles rushedto their quarters and fumed and raged themselves into a state borderingon, madness; and vowed revenge till they were hoarse. 

It was a curious fact, nevertheless, that at prayers that evening therewere more clean faces among the Tadpoles than had been seen there sincethe formation of that ancient and honourable fraternity. 

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

A QUARREL AND A CRICKET MATCH. 

The first number of the _Dominican_ had undoubtedly caused a sensation;and it would have created far more sensation but for the fact that theAlphabet Match was to be played on the following day. But even thiscounter-attraction could not wholly divert the mind of Saint Dominic'sfrom this new literary marvel; and a skirmish took place on the veryafternoon of its appearance. 

Pembury and his friends had quite expected that the Sixth would attempta high-handed blow at their paper, and they were not disappointed. Forno sooner had Loman and his peers stalked away from the scene of theirindignation, and found themselves in the retirement of their own room, than they fell to talking in terms the reverse of pleasant about theevent of the morning. The least important of their number was speciallywroth. 

"There's a great row out in the passage to-day, " said Raleigh, who wasblissfully ignorant of the whole matter; "why can't some of you monitorskeep a little better order? The Doctor will be wanting to know whatit's all about!"

"All very well, " said Raikes, one of the monitors; "but if the Fifthwill stick their tomfoolery out in the passage, there's sure to be arow. "

"What tomfoolery? Some of you are for ever grumbling at the Fifth. "

"And so would you if you saw the complimentary remarks they make aboutyou in this precious newspaper of theirs. "

"Oh, the _Dominican_? I must have a look at it by and by; but meanwhilesomething had better be done to stop that row, or we shall catch itourselves. "

And so saying, the captain left these injured youths to their owncounsels, which it is to be feared were moved more by dislike for the_Dominican_ than by a burning desire for the good order of the school. 

However, they must do something; and there would be nothing inconsistentwith their dignity in demanding the withdrawal of the obnoxiousbroadside on account of the noise it caused. This would be a safe move, and might be checkmate. Loman was deputed to wait upon the Fifth withthe demand of the monitors, and lost no time in carrying out thiswelcome task. Class was just over, and the Fifth were just about toclear out of their room when Loman entered. It was not often that aSixth Form fellow penetrated into their camp, and had they not guessedhis mission they might have resented the intrusion. 

"Oh, you fellows, " began Loman, feeling not quite so confident now as hehad felt five minutes ago, "we can't have that thing of yours hangingout in the passage like that. It makes a crowd--too much row. Whose isit?"

"Not mine, " said Wraysford, laughing; "ask Bully--perhaps it's his. "

"Not a bit of it, " said Bullinger; "it's yours, isn't it, Simon?"

"Only part, " said the poet of the "Love-Ballad", "and I presented thatto the paper. "

"Suppose it was mine?" said Oliver, with a drawl. 

"Then, " said Loman, losing his temper, "all I can say is, the sooner youclear it away the better. "

"Oh! all right; only it's not mine. "

"Look here, " said Loman, "I'm not going to fool about with you. You maythink it all very funny, but I'll report it to the Doctor, and thenyou'll look foolish. "

"How nice! So pleasant it will be to look for once like what you lookalways, " observed Pembury, gnawing the top of his crutch. 

At that moment there was a loud shout of laughter in the passageoutside, confirming the monitor's complaint. Wraysford walked hastilyto the door. 

"The next time there's a row like that outside our door, " called he tothe group outside, "we'll--what do you mean by it, you youngblackguard?"

So saying, he caught Master Bramble, who happened to be the nearestoffender within reach, by the collar of his coat, and lugged him bodilyinto the class-room. 

"There, now! Do you know this gentleman? He's a monitor. Have a goodlook at him. He's been complaining of the row you are making, and quiterightly. Take that, and tell all the little Pigs outside that if theydon't hold their noise they will find themselves, every man jack ofthem, _mentioned by name_ in the next number!"

So saying, with a gentle cuff he handed the ill-starred Master Brambleout again to his fellows, and from that time there was scarcely a soundaudible from the passage. 

"Good-bye, " said Pembury, kissing his hand to Loman, who all this timehad been standing in the middle of the room, in a white heat, andperplexed what to do or say next. 

"You aren't going to live here, are you?" asked Bullinger. 

"Any one got a toffee-drop?" drily inquired Oliver. To his surprise, and to the surprise of every one, Loman wheeled round towards the lastspeaker, and without a word struck him a blow on the mouth with hishand. 

He saw he had made a mistake, and looked ashamed the moment the deed wasdone. All eyes turned to Oliver, whose face was crimson with a suddenflush of pain and anger. He sprang to his feet, and Braddy, the bully, was already beginning to gloat over the prospect of a fight, when, toevery one's amazement, Oliver coolly put his hands back into hispockets, and walking up to Loman said, quietly, "Hadn't you better go?"

Loman stared at him in astonishment. He had at least expected to beknocked down, and this, behaviour was quite incomprehensible. 

He turned on his heel and quitted the room without a word; and somehowor other from that time the Fifth heard no more protests from themonitors on the subject of the _Dominican_. 

But Oliver's conduct, much as it had astonished the person chieflyconcerned, had astonished the Fifth still more. For the first time inthe history of their class, as far as they could recollect, a blowstruck had not been returned, and they could not tell what to make ofit. 

The blow had been a cowardly one, and certainly unmerited, and by allschoolboy tradition one fairly demanding a return. Could it be possibletheir man was lacking in courage? The idea was a shock to most present, who, although Oliver was never very popular among them, as has beensaid, had never before suspected his pluck. In fact, it was an awkwardmoment for all, and it was quite a relief when Simon broke silence byasking Oliver, "Why didn't you knock him down, I say?"

"Because I did not choose, if you want to know, " replied Oliver, shortly. 

"Oh! I beg your pardon, " replied Simon, rather taken aback by thisbrusque answer. 

This was not satisfactory. Had the offender been a Guinea-pig, onecould have understood the thing; but when it was a Sixth Form fellow--agood match in every respect, as well as a rival--the Fifth were offendedat their man for drawing back as he had done. 

"I suppose you _will_ fight him?" said Ricketts, in a voice whichimplied that there was no doubt about it. 

"Do you?" replied Oliver, briefly. 

The boy's manner was certainly not winsome, and, when once put out, itwas evident he took no trouble to conceal the fact. He refused toanswer any further questions on the subject, and presently quitted theroom, leaving more than half his class-fellows convinced that, afterall, he _was_ a coward. 

An angry discussion followed his departure. 

"He ought to be made to fight, whether he likes or not, " said Braddy thebully. 

"Some one ought to pay Loman out, " suggested Ricketts, "if Greenfielddoesn't. "

"A nice name we shall get, all of us, " said Bullinger, "when it getsabroad all over the school. "

"It's a shame, because one fellow funks, for the whole Form to bedisgraced; that's what I say, " said some one else. 

There were, however, two boys who did not join in this general cry ofindignation against Oliver, and they were Wraysford and Pembury. Thelatter was always whimsical in his opinions, and no one was surprised tosee him come out on the wrong side. As for Wraysford, he always backedhis friend up, whether others thought him right or wrong. These twoscouted the idea of Oliver being a coward; the one with his usual weaponof ridicule, the other with all the warmth of friendship. 

"Who calls him a coward?" exclaimed Wraysford, glaring at the lastspeaker. 

Wraysford was not a coward, and looked so ready to avenge his friend byhard knocks, that the boy who had insinuated that Greenfield was afraidwithdrew his charge as mildly as he could. "I only meant, it looks asif he didn't like to fight, " he said. 

"And what business of yours is it what it looks like?" demandedWraysford. 

"Come, old man, " said Pembury; "don't eat him up! I fancy Greenfieldmight screw up courage to pull _his_ nose, whoever else he lets off, eh?It's my private opinion, though, Oliver knew what he was about. "

"Of course he did, " sneered Braddy; "he knew jolly well what he wasabout. "

"Dear me! Is that you, Mr Braddy? I had not noticed you here, or Ishould not have ventured to speak on a matter having to do with pluckand heroism. I'm glad you agree with me, though, although I didn't sayhe knew _jolly_ well what he was about. That is an expression of yourown. "

Braddy, who as usual felt and looked extinguished when Pembury made funof him, retired sulkily, and the editor of the _Dominican_ thereuponturned his attack on another quarter. And so the dispute went on, neither party being convinced, and all satisfied only on one point--thata cloud had arisen to mar the hitherto peaceful horizon of Fifth Formexistence. 

The cricket match of the following day, however, served to divert thethoughts of all parties for a time. 

As it was only the prelude to a much more important match shortly tofollow, I shall not attempt to describe it fully here, as the readerwill probably be far more interested in the incidents of Sixth versusSchool Match when it comes off. 

The Alphabet Match was, to tell the truth, not nearly as interesting anaffair as it promised to be, for from the very first the N's to Z's hadthe best of it. Stephen, who with a company of fellow-Tadpoles andGuinea-pigs was perched on the palings, looking on, felt his heart sinkwithin him as first one and then another of his brother's side losttheir wickets without runs. For once he and Bramble were in sympathy, and he and Paul were at difference. The row these small boys kicked up, by the way, was one of the most notable features of the whole match. Every one of them yelled for his own side. There had, indeed, been aquestion whether every Guinea-pig, whatever his private initial, oughtnot to yell for the G's, and every Tadpole for the T's; but it waseventually decided that each should yell "on his own hook, " and theeffect was certainly far more diverting. 

The first four men of the A to M went out for two runs between them, andStephen and Bramble sat in gloomy despair. The next man in knocked downhis wicket before he had played a single ball. It was frightful, andthe jeers of the Z's were hateful to hear. 

But Stephen brightened as he perceived that the next batsman was hisbrother. "Now they'll pick up!" said he. 

"No they won't! Greenfield senior skies his balls too much for mytaste, " cheeringly replied the small Bramble. 

But Stephen was right. For the first time that afternoon the A's made astand. Oliver's partner at the wickets was Callonby, of the Sixth, asteady, plodding player, who hardly ever hit out, and got all his runs(if he got any) from the slips. This afternoon he hardly scored at all, but kept his wicket carefully while Oliver did the hitting. 

Things were looking up. The telegraph went up from 2 to 20. Wraysford, who had hitherto been bowling with Ricketts against his friend, gave upthe ball to Raikes, and the field generally woke up to the importance ofgetting rid of this daring player. 

Stephen's throat was too hoarse to roar any more, so he resigned thatduty to Bramble, and looked on in delighted silence. The score creptup, till suddenly Callonby tipped a ball into cover-slip's hand and wascaught, to the great delight of the Z's, who guessed that, once aseparation had been effected, the survivor would soon be disposed of. 

The next man in was Loman. He was better as a bowler than a batsman;but he followed Callonby's tactics and played a steady block, leavingthe boy he had struck yesterday to do the hitting. 

Oliver was certainly playing in fine form, and for a moment hisclass-fellows forgot their resentment against him in applauding hisplay. The score was at 35, and the new coalition promised to be asformidable as the last, when Oliver cut a ball past point. 

"Run! no! yes, run!" he shouted. Loman started, then hesitated, thenstarted again--but it was too late. Before he could get across, theball was up and he was run out. He was furious, and it certainly washard lines for him, although there would have been time enough for therun had he not pulled up in the middle. Forgetful of all the rules ofcricket, he turned round to Oliver and shouted, "You are a fool!" as heleft the wicket. 

Stephen luckily was too much engrossed in watching the telegraph to hearor notice this remark; which, however, was not lost on the Fifthgenerally, who experienced a return of their former discontent when theyobserved that Oliver (though he must have heard it) took not theslightest notice of the offensive expression. 

The match passed off without further incident. The Z's won in the endby two wickets, after a closer match than it had promised to be atfirst, and Stephen was comforted for the reverse by feeling sure thathis brother at any rate had played his best, and would certainly get hisplace in the School Eleven. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

A ROD IN PICKLE. 

Loman, who had arrived at the same conclusion respecting Oliver'sbravery as the majority in the Fifth, did not allow his conscience totrouble him as to his share of the morning's business. He never hadliked Oliver, and lately especially he had come to dislike him. He wastherefore glad to have made him smart; and now, since the blunder in thecricket match, he felt greatly inclined to repeat the blow, particularlyas there did not seem much to fear if he did so. 

He was quick, too, to see that Oliver had lost favour with his comrades, and had no hesitation in availing himself of every opportunity ofwidening the breach. He affected to be sorry for the poor fellow, andto feel that he had been too hard on him, and so on, in a manner which, while it offended the Fifth, as applied to one of their set, exasperatedthem all the more against Oliver. And so matters went on, getting moreand more unsatisfactory. 

Loman, however, had other things to think of than his rival's cowardice, and foremost among these was his new fishing-rod--or rather, the rodwhich he coveted for his own. Until the day after the Alphabet Match hehad not even had time to examine his treasure. Three pounds ten was anappalling figure to pay for a rod; "But then, " thought Loman, "if it'sreally a good one, and worth half as much again, it would be a pity tomiss such a bargain;" and every one knew the Crippses, father and son, were authorities on all matters pertaining to the piscatorial art. Loman, too, was never badly off for pocket-money, and could easily raisethe amount, he felt sure, when he represented the case at home. So hetook the rod out of its canvas bag, and began to put it together. 

Now, a boy's study is hardly the place in which to flourish afishing-rod, and Loman found that with the butt down in one bottomcorner of the room, the top joint would have to be put on up in theopposite top corner. When this complicated operation was over, therewas no room to move it from its position, still less to judge of itsweight and spring, or attach the winch and line. Happy thought! thewindow! He would have any amount of scope there. So, taking it topieces, and putting it together again in this new direction, he had thesatisfaction of testing it at its full length. He was pleased with therod, on the whole. He attached the line, with a fly at the end, inorder to give it a thorough trial, and gave a scientific "cast" into animaginary pool. It was a splendid rod, just right for him; how hewished he was up above Gusset Weir at that moment! Why, he could--

Here he attempted to draw up the rod. There was an ugly tug and a crackas he did so, and he found, to his disgust, that the hook, havingnothing else to catch, had caught the ivy on the wall, and, what wasworse, that the top joint of the rod had either snapped or cracked inits inability to bring this weighty catch to shore. It was a long timebefore Loman was able to disengage his line, and bring the rod in againat the window. The top joint was cracked. It looked all right as heheld it, but when he tried to bend it it had lost its spring, and thecrack showed only too plainly. Another misfortune still was in store. The reel in winding up suddenly stuck. Loman, fancying it had onlycaught temporarily, tried to force it, and in so doing the spring broke, and the handle turned uselessly round and round in his hand. This _was_a streak of bad luck, and no mistake! The rod was not his, and what wasworse, it was (so Cripps said) a rod of extraordinary excellence andvalue. Loman had his doubts now about this. A first-rate top-piecewould bend nearly double and then not break, and a reel that broke atthe least pressure could hardly be of the best kind. Still, Crippsthought a lot of it, and Loman had undoubtedly himself alone to blamefor the accidents which had occurred. As it was, the rod was nowuseless. He knew there was no place in Maltby where he could get itrepaired, and it was hardly to be expected that Cripps would take itback. 

What was to be done? Either he must pay 3 pounds 10 shillings for a rodof no value, or--

He slowly took the rod to pieces and put it back into the canvas bag. The top joint after all did not look amiss; and, yes, there was a_little_ bit of elasticity in it. Perhaps the crack was only his fancy;or perhaps the crack was there when he got it. As to the reel, itlooked as if it _ought_ to work, and perhaps it would if he only knewthe way. Ah! suppose he just sent the rod back to Cripps with a messagethat he found he did not require it? He would not say he had not usedit, but if Cripps chose to imagine he received it back just as he sentit, well, what harm? Cripps would be sure to sell it to some one else, or else put it by (he had said he possessed a rod of his own). If he, Loman, had felt quite certain that he had damaged the rod himself, ofcourse he would not think of such a thing; but he was not at all certainthe thing was not defective to begin with. In any case it was aninferior rod--that he had no doubt about--and Cripps was not actinghonestly by trying to pass it off on him as one of the best make. Yes, it would serve Cripps right, and be a lesson to him, and he was sure, yes, quite sure now, it had been damaged to begin with. 

And so the boy argued with himself and coquetted with the tempter. Before the afternoon was over he felt (as he imagined) quite comfortablein his own mind over the affair. The rod was tied up again in its bagexactly as it had been before, and only wanted an opportunity to bereturned to Mr Cripps. 

After that Loman settled down to an evening's study. But things wereagainst him again. Comfortable as his conscience was, that top jointwould not let him alone. It seemed to get into his hand in place of thepen, and to point out the words in the lexicon in place of his finger. He tried not to mind it, but it annoyed him, and, what was worse, interfered with his work. So, shutting up his books, and imagining achange of air might be beneficial, he went off to Callonby's study, there to gossip for an hour or two, and finally rid himself of histormentor. 

Stephen, meanwhile, had had Mr Cripps on his mind too, for thatafternoon his bat had come home. It was addressed to "Mr Greenfield, Saint Dominic's, " and of course taken to Oliver, who wondered much toreceive a small size cricket-bat in a parcel. Master Paul, however, whowas in attendance, was able to clear up the mystery. 

"Oh! that's your young brother's, I expect; he said he had got a batcoming. "

"All I can say is, he must be more flush of cash than I am, to go in fora thing like this. Send him here, Paul. "

So Paul vanished, and presently Stephen put in an appearance, blushing, and anxious-looking. 

"Is this yours?" asked the elder brother. 

"Yes; did Mr Cripps send it?"

"Mr Cripps the lock-keeper?"

"No, his son. He said he would get it for me. I say, is that a goodbat, Oliver?"

"Nothing out of the way. But, I say, young 'un, how much have you givenfor it?"

"Not anything yet. Mr Cripps said I could pay in June, when I get mynext pocket-money. "

"What on earth has he to do with when you get your pocket-money?"demanded Oliver. "Who is this young Cripps? He's a cad, isn't he?"

"He seemed a very nice man, " said Stephen. 

"Well, look here! the less you have to do with men like him the better. What is the price of the bat?"

"I don't know; it's one Mr Cripps had himself when he was a boy. Hesays it's a beauty! I say, it looks as good as new, Oliver. "

"You young muff!" said the elder brother; "I expect the fellow'sswindling you. Find out what he wants for it at once, and pay him; I'mnot going to let you run into debt. "

"But I can't; I've only two shillings left, " said Stephen, dejectedly. 

"Why, whatever have you done with the five shillings you had last week?"

Stephen blushed, and then faltered, "I spent sixpence on stamps andsixpence on--on brandy-balls!"

"I thought so. And what did you do with the rest?"

"Oh! I--I--that is--I--gave them away. "

"Gave them away! Who to--to Bramble?"

"No, " said Stephen, laughing at the idea; "I gave them to a poor oldman!"

"Where?--when? Upon my word, Stephen, you _are_ a jackass--who to?"

And then Stephen confessed, and the elder brother rated him soundly forhis folly, till the little fellow felt quite miserable and ashamed ofhimself. In the end, Oliver insisted on Stephen finding out at oncewhat the price of the bat was, and promised he would lend his brotherthe money for it. In return for this, Stephen promised to make no morepurchases of this kind without first consulting Oliver, and at thisjuncture Wraysford turned up, and Stephen beat a retreat with his batover his shoulder. 

The two friends had not been alone together since _the fracas_ in theFifth two days before, and both now appeared glad of an opportunity oftalking over that and subsequent events. 

"I suppose you know a lot of the fellows are very sore at you for notthrashing Loman?" said Wraysford. 

"I guessed they would be. Are you riled, too, Wray?"

"Not I! I know what _I_ should have done myself, but I suppose you knowyour own business best. "

"I was greatly tempted to let out, " said Oliver, "but the fact is--Iknow you'll jeer, Wray--the fact is, I've been trying feebly to turnover a new leaf this term. "

Wraysford said "Oh!" and looked uncomfortable. 

"And one of the things I wanted to keep out of was losing my temper, which you know is not a good one. "

"Not at all, " said Wraysford, meaning quite the opposite to what hesaid. 

"Well, if you'll believe me, I've lost my temper oftener in trying tokeep this resolution than I ever remember to have done before. But onFriday it came over me just as I was going to thrash Loman. That's whyI didn't. "

Wraysford looked greatly relieved when this confession was over. "Youare a rum fellow, Noll, " said he, after a pause, "and of course it isall right; but the fellows don't know your reason, and think you showedthe white feather. "

"Let them think!" shouted Oliver, in a voice so loud and angry thatMaster Paul came to the door and asked what he wanted. 

"What do I care what they think?" continued Oliver, forgetting all abouthis temper; "they can think what they like, but they had better let mealone. I'd like to knock all their heads together! so I would!"

"Steady, old man!" said Wraysford, good-humouredly; "I quite agree withyou. But I say, Noll, I think it's a pity you don't put yourself rightwith them and the school generally, somehow. Everybody heard Loman callyou a fool yesterday, and you know our fellows are so clannish that theythink, for the credit of the Fifth, something ought to be done. "

"Let them send Braddy to thrash him, then; I don't intend to fight toplease _them_!"

"Oh! that's all right. And if they all knew what you've told me theywould understand it; but as it is, they don't. "

"They'll find out some day, most likely, " growled Oliver; "I'm not goingto bother any more about it. I say, Wray, do you know anything ofCripps's son?"

"Yes. Don't you know he keeps a dirty public-house in Maltby?--aregular cad, they say. The fishing-fellows have seen him up at the Weirnow and then. "

"I don't know how he came across him, but my young brother has just beenbuying a bat from him, and I don't much fancy it. "

"No, the youngster won't get any good with that fellow; you had bettertell him, " said Wraysford. 

"So I have, and he won't do it again. "

Shortly after this Pembury hobbled in on his way to bed. 

"You're a pretty fellow, " said he to Oliver; "not one of our fellowscares a rush about the _Dominican_ since you made yourself into thelatest sensation. "

"Oh, don't let us have that up again, " implored Oliver. 

"All very well, but what is to become of the _Dominican_?"

"Oh, have a special extra number about me. Call me a coward, and afool, and a Tadpole, any mortal thing you like, only shut up about theaffair now!"

Pembury looked concerned. 

"Allow me to feel your pulse, " said he to Oliver. 

"Feel away, " said Oliver, glad of any diversion. 

"Hum! As I feared--feverish. Oliver, my boy, you are not well. Wandering a bit in your mind, too; get to bed. Be better soon. Able totalk like an ordinary rational animal then, and not like an animatedtom-cat. Good-bye!"

And so saying he departed, leaving the friends too much amused to beangry at his rudeness. 

The two friends did a steady evening's work after this, and the thoughtof the Nightingale Scholarship drove away for the time all less pleasantrecollections. 

They slept, after it all, far more soundly than Loman, whose dreams weredisturbed by that everlasting top joint all the night long. 

The reader will no doubt have already decided in his own mind whetherOliver Greenfield did rightly or wrongly in putting his hands into hispockets instead of using them to knock down Loman. It certainly did notseem to have done him much good at the time. He had lost the esteem ofhis comrades, he had lost the very temper he had been trying to keep--twenty times since the event--and no one gave him credit for anythingbut "the better part of valour" in the whole affair. 

And yet that one effort of self-restraint was not altogether an unmanlyact. At least, so thought Wraysford that night, as he lay meditatingupon his friend's troubles, and found himself liking him none the lessfor this latest singular piece of eccentricity. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

THE FOURTH JUNIOR AT HOME. 

Stephen, before he had been a fortnight in the school, found himselfvery much at home at Saint Dominic's. He was not one of thoseexuberant, irrepressible boys who take their class-fellows by storm, andrise to the top of the tree almost as soon as they touch the bottom. Stephen, as the reader knows, was not a very clever boy, or a verydashing boy, and yet he somehow managed to get his footing among hiscomrades in the Fourth Junior, and particularly among his fellowGuinea-pigs. 

He had fought Master Bramble six times in three days during his secondweek, and was engaged to fight him again every Tuesday, Thursday, andFriday during the term. He had also taken the chair at one indignationmeeting against the monitors, and spoken in favour of a resolution atanother. He had distributed brandy-balls in a most handsome manner tohis particular adherents, and he had been the means of carrying away noless than two blankets from the next dormitory. This was pretty goodfor a fortnight. Add to this that he had remained steadily at thebottom of his class during the entire period, and that once he hadreceived an "impot" (or imposition) from Mr Rastle, and it will easilybe understood that he soon gained favour among his fellows. 

This last cause of celebrity, however, was one which did not pleaseStephen. He had come to Saint Dominic's with a great quantity of goodresolutions, the chief of which was that he would work hard and keep outof mischief, and it grieved him much to find that in neither aim was hesucceeding. 

The first evening or two he had worked very diligently at preparation. He had taken pains with his fractions, and looked out every word in hisCaesar. He had got Oliver to look over his French, and Loman hadvolunteered to correct the spelling of his "theme;" and yet he stuck atthe bottom of the class. Other boys went up and down. Some openlyboasted that they had had their lessons done for them, and others thatthey had not done them at all. A merry time they had of it; butStephen, down at the bottom, was in dismal dumps. He could not get up, and he could not get down, and all his honest hard work went fornothing. 

And so, not content to give that system a longer trial, he grew more laxin his work. He filched the answers to his sums out of the "Key, " andcopied his Caesar out of the "crib. " It was much easier, and the resultwas the same. He did not get up, and he could not get down. 

Oliver catechised him now and then as to his progress, and receivedvague answers in reply, and Loman never remembered a fag that pesteredhim less with lessons. Stephen was, in fact, settling down into theslough of idleness, and would have become an accomplished dunce in time, had not Mr Rastle come to the rescue. That gentleman caught the newboy in an idle mood, wandering aimlessly down the passage one afternoon. 

"Ah, Greenfield, is that you? Nothing to do, eh? Come and have teawith me, will you, in my room?"

Stephen, who had bounded as if shot on hearing the master's unexpectedvoice behind him, turned round and blushed very red, and said "Thankyou, " and then looked like a criminal just summoned to the gallows. 

"That's right, come along;" and the master took the lad by the arm andmarched him off to his room. 

Here the sight of muffins and red-currant jam, in addition to theordinary attractions of a tea-table, somewhat revived Stephen's droopingspirits. 

"Make yourself comfortable, my boy, while the tea is brewing, " said MrRastle, cheerily. "Have you been playing any cricket since you came?"

"Only a little, sir, " said Stephen. 

"Well, if you only turn out as good a bat as your brother--how well heplayed in the Alphabet Match!"

Stephen was reviving fast now, and embarked on a lively chat about hisfavourite sport, by the end of which the tea was brewed, and he and MrRastle sitting "cheek by jowl" at the table, with the muffins and jambetween them. 

Presently Mr Rastle steered the talk round to Stephen's home, a topiceven more delightful than cricket. The boy launched out into a fullaccount of the old house and his mother, till the tears very nearlystood in his eyes and the muffins very nearly stuck in his throat. MrRastle listened to it all with a sympathetic smile, throwing inquestions now and then which it charmed the boy to answer. 

"And how do you like Saint Dominic's?" presently inquired the master. "I suppose you've made plenty of friends by this time?"

"Oh yes, sir. It's not as slow as it was at first. "

"That's right. You'll soon get to feel at home. And how do you thinkyou are getting on in class?"

Stephen was astonished at this question. If any one knew how he wasgetting on in class Mr Rastle did, and, alas! Mr Rastle must knowwell enough that Stephen was getting on badly. 

"Not very well, I'm afraid, sir, thank you, " replied the boy, notfeeling exactly comfortable. 

"Not? That's a pity. Are the lessons too hard for you?" kindlyinquired Mr Rastle. 

"No, I don't think so--that is--no, they're not, sir. "

"Ah, your Latin exercise I thought was very fair in parts to-day. "

Stephen stared at his master, and the master looked very pleasantly atStephen. 

"I copied it off Raddleston, " said the boy, in a trembling voice, andmentally resigning himself to his fate. 

"Ah!" said Mr Rastle, laughing; "it's a funny thing, now, Greenfield, Iknew that myself. No two boys could possibly have translated `nobody'into `_nullus corpus_' without making common cause!"

Stephen was desperately perplexed. He had expected a regular row on thehead of his confession, and here was his master cracking jokes about theaffair!

"I'm very sorry I did it. I won't do it again, " said he. "That'sright, my boy; Raddleston isn't infallible. Much better do it yourself. I venture to say, now, you can tell me what the Latin for `nobody' iswithout a dictionary. "

"_Nemo_, " promptly replied Stephen. 

"Of course! and therefore if you had done the exercise yourself youwouldn't have made that horrid--that fearful mistake!"

Stephen said, "Yes, sir, " and meditated. 

"Come now, " said Mr Rastle, cheerily, "I'm not going to scold you. Butif you take my advice you will try and do the next exercise by yourself. Of course you can't expect to be perfect all at once, but if you alwayscopy off Raddleston, do you see, you'll _never_ get on at all. "

"I'll try, sir, " said Stephen, meaning what he said. 

"I know you will, my boy. It's not easy work to begin with, but it'seasier far in the long run. Try, and if you have difficulties, as youare sure to have, come to me. I'm always here in the evenings, andwe'll hammer it out between us. School will not be without itstemptations, and you will find it hard always to do your duty. Yet youhave, I hope, learnt the power of prayer; and surely the Saviour is ablenot only to forgive us our sins, but also to keep us from falling. Atschool, my boy, as elsewhere, it is a safe rule, whenever one is indoubt, to avoid everything, no matter who may be the tempter, of whichone cannot fearlessly speak to one's father or mother, and above all toour Heavenly Father. Don't be afraid of Him--He will always be ready tohelp you and to guide you with His Holy Spirit. Have another cup oftea?"

This little talk, much as he missed at the time its deeper meaning, saved Stephen from becoming a dunce. He still blundered and boggledover his lessons, and still kept pretty near to the bottom form in hisclass, but he felt that his master had an interest in him, and thatacted like magic to his soul. He declined Master Raddleston'sprofessional assistance for the future, and did the best he could byhimself. He now and then, though hesitatingly, availed himself of MrRastle's offer, and took his difficulties to head-quarters; and healways, when he did so, found the master ready and glad to help, and notonly that, but to explain as he went along, and clear the way of futureobstacles of the same sort. 

And so things looked up with Stephen. He wrote jubilant letters home;he experienced all the joys of an easy conscience, and he felt that hehad a friend at court. 

But as long as he was a member of the honourable fraternity ofGuinea-pigs, Stephen Greenfield was not likely to be dull at SaintDominic's. 

The politics of the lower school were rather intricate. The Guinea-pigswere not exactly the enemies of the Tadpoles, but the rivals. They werealways jangling among themselves, it was true; and when Stephen, for thesecond time in one week, had hit Bramble in the eye, there was suchjubilation among the Guinea-pigs that any one might have supposed thetwo clans were at daggers drawn. But it was not so--at least, notalways--for though they fell out among themselves, they united theirforces against the common enemy--the monitors!

Monitors, in the opinion of these young republicans, were an inventionof the Evil One, invented for the sole purpose of interfering with them. But for the monitors they could carry out their long-cherished schemeof a pitched battle on the big staircase, for asserting their right togo down the left side, when they chose, and up on the right. As it was, the monitors insisted that they should go up on the left and come downon the right. It was intolerable tyranny! And but for the monitorstheir comb-and-paper musical society might give daily recitals in thetop corridor and so delight all Saint Dominic's. What right had themonitors to forbid the performance and confiscate the combs? Was it tobe endured? And but for the monitors, once more, they might perfectthemselves in the art of pea-shooting. Was such a thing ever heard of, as that fellows should be compelled to shoot peas at the wall in theprivacy of their own studies, instead of at one another in the passages?It was a shame--it was a scandal--it was a crime!

On burning questions such as these, Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles sunk allpetty differences, and thought and felt as one man; and not the leastardent among them was Stephen. 

"Come on, quick! Greenfield junior, " squeaked the voice of Bramble, oneafternoon, as he and Stephen met on the staircase. 

Stephen had fought Bramble yesterday at four o'clock, and was to fighthim again to-morrow at half-past twelve, but at the call of commondanger he forgot the feud and tore up the stairs, two steps at a time, beside his chronic enemy. 

"What's the row?" he gasped, as they flew along. 

"Row? Why, what do you think? Young Bellerby has been doctored fortying a string across the passage!"

"Had up before the Doctor? My eye, Bramble!"

"It is your eye indeed! One of the monitors tripped over it, and got ina rage, and there's Bellerby now catching it in the Black Hole. Come onto the meeting; quick!"

The two rushed on, joined by one and another of their fellows who hadheard the terrible news. The party rushed pellmell into the FourthJunior class-room, where were already assembled a score or more youths, shouting, and stamping, and howling like madmen. At the sight ofBramble, the acknowledged leader of all malcontents, they quieted downfor a moment to hear what he had to say. 

"Here's a go!" classically began that hero. 

At this the clamour, swelled twofold by the new additions, rose louderthan ever. It _was_ a go!

"I wish it had been _me_!" again yelled Bramble; "I have let them know. "

Once more the shouts rose high and loud in approval of this noblesentiment. 

"_I'd_ have kicked their legs!" once more howled Bramble, as soon as hecould make himself heard. 

"So would we; kicked their legs!"

"They ought to be hanged!" screamed Bramble. 

"_I'll_ not fag any more for Wren!" bellowed Bramble. 

"I'll not fag any more for Greenfield senior!" thundered Paul. 

"I'll not fag any more for Loman!" shrieked Stephen. 

"Why don't some of you put poison in their teas?" cried one. 

"Or blow them up when they're in bed with gunpowder?"

"Or flay them alive?"

"Or boil them in tar?"

"Or throw them into the lions' den?"

"Those who say we won't stand it any longer, " shouted Bramble, jumpingup on to a form, "hold up your hands!"

A perfect forest of inky hands arose, and a shout with them that almostshook the ceiling. 

At that moment the door opened, and Wren appeared. The effect wasmagical; every one became suddenly quiet, and looked another way. 

"The next time there's a noise like that, " said the monitor, "the wholeclass will be detained one hour, " and, so saying, departed. 

After that the indignation meeting was kept up in whispers. Now andthen the feelings of the assembly broke out into words, but the noisewas instantly checked. 

"If young Bellerby has been flogged, " said Bramble, in a most sepulchralundertone, "I've a good mind to fight every one of them!"

"Yes, every one of them, " whispered the multitude. 

"They're all as bad as each other!" gasped Bramble. 

"_We'll_ let them know, " muttered the audience. 

"I'll tell you what I've a good mind to--to--ur--ur--I've a good mindto--ugh!"

Again the door opened. This time it was Callonby. 

"Where's young Raddleston?--What _are_ you young beggars up to?--isRaddleston here?"

"Yes, " mildly answered the voice of Master Raddleston, who a moment agohad nearly broken a blood-vessel in his endeavours to scream in awhisper. 

"Come here, then. "

The fag meekly obeyed. 

"Oh, and Greenfield junior, " said Callonby, as he was turning to depart, "Loman wants to know when you are going to get his tea; you're to go atonce, he says. "

Stephen obeyed, and was very humble in explaining to Loman that he hadforgotten (which was the case) the time. The meeting in the Fourthclass-room lasted most of the afternoon; but as oratory in whispers istedious, and constant repetition of the same sentiments, howeverpatriotic, is monotonous, it flagged considerably in spirit towards theend, and degenerated into one of the usual wrangles between Guinea-pigsand Tadpoles, in the midst of which Master Bramble left the chair, andwent off in the meekest manner possible to get Wren to help him with hissums for next day. 

Stephen meanwhile was engaged in doing a little piece of business forLoman, of which more must be said in a following chapter. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

IN THE TOILS. 

The afternoon of the famous "indignation meeting" in the Fourth Juniorwas the afternoon of the week which Mr Cripps the younger, puttingaside for a season the anxieties and responsibilities of his "public"duties in Maltby, usually devoted to the pursuit of the "gentle craft, "at his worthy father's cottage by Gusset Weir. Loman, who was aware ofthis circumstance, and on whose spirit that restless top joint hadcontinued to prey ever since the evening of the misadventure a week ago, determined to avail himself of the opportunity of returning the unluckyfishing-rod into the hands from which he had received it. 

He therefore instructed Stephen to take it up to the lock-house with anote to the effect that having changed his mind in the matter sincespeaking to Cripps, he found he should not require the rod, andtherefore returned it, with many thanks for Mr Cripps's trouble. 

Stephen, little suspecting the questionable nature of his errand, undertook the commission, and duly delivered both rod and letter intothe hands of Mr Cripps, who greatly astonished him by swearing veryviolently at the contents of the letter. "Well, " said he, when he hadexhausted his vocabulary (not a small one) of expletives--"well, of allthe grinning jackanapeses, this is the coolest go! Do you take me for afool?"

Stephen, to whom this question appeared to be directly applied, disclaimed any idea of the kind, and added, "I don't know what youmean. "

"Don't you, my young master? All right! Tell Mr Loman I'll wait uponhim one fine day, see if I don't! Here's me, given up a whole blessedday to serve him, and a pot of money out of my pocket, and here he goes!not a penny for my pains! Chucks the thing back on my 'ands as cool asa coocumber, all because he's changed his mind. I'll let him have a bitof my mind, tell him, Mr Gentleman Schoolboy, see if I don't. I ain'ta-going to be robbed, no! not by all the blessed monkeys that ever wroteon slates! _I'll_ wait upon him, see if I don't!"

Stephen, to whom the whole of this oration, which was garnished withwords that we can hardly set down in print, or degrade ourselves bysuggesting, was about as intelligible as if it had been Hebrew, thoughtit better to make no reply, and sorrowed inwardly to find that such anice man as Mr Cripps should possess so short a temper. But thelandlord of the Cockchafer soon recovered from his temporary annoyance, and even proceeded to apologise to Stephen for the warmth of hislanguage. 

"You'll excuse me, young gentleman, " said he, "but I'm a plain-spokenman, and I was--there, I won't deny it--I was a bit put out about thishere rod first go off. You'll excuse me--of course I don't mean nooffence to you or Mister Loman neither, who's one of the nicest younggentlemen I ever met. Of course if you'd a' paid seventy bob out ofyour own pocket it would give _you_ a turn; leastways, if you was astruggling, honest working man, like me. "

"That's it, " snivelled, old Mr Cripps, who had entered during this lastspeech; "that's it, Benny, my boy, honest Partisans, that's what we is, who knows what it are to be in want of a shillin' to buy a clo' or twofor the little childer. "

What particular little "childer" Mr Cripps senior and his son werespecially interested in no one knew, for neither of them was blessedwith any. However, it was one of old Mr Cripps's heart-moving phrases, and no one was rude enough to ask questions. 

Stephen did not, on the present occasion, feel moved to respond to theold man's lament, and Cripps junior, with more adroitness than filialaffection, hustled the old gentleman out of the door. 

"Never mind him, " said he to Stephen. "He's a silly old man, and alwayspretends he's starvin'. If you believe me, he's a thousand poundsstowed away somewheres. I on'y wish, " added he, with a sigh, "he'd giveme a taste of it, for its 'ard, up-'ill work makin' ends meet, particular when a man's deceived by parties. No matter. I'll pullthrough; you see!"

Stephen once more did not feel called upon to pursue this line ofconversation, and therefore changed the subject. 

"Oh, Mr Cripps, how much is that bat?"

"Bat! Bless me if I hadn't nearly forgot all about it. Ain't it abeauty, now?"

"Yes, pretty well, " said Stephen, whose friends had one and all abusedthe bat, and who was himself a little disappointed in his expectations. 

"Pretty well! I like that. You must be a funny cricketer, younggentleman, to call that bat only pretty well. I suppose you want me totake _that_ back, too?" and here Mr Cripps looked very fierce. 

"Oh, no, " said Stephen, hurriedly. "I only want to know what I am topay for it. "

"Oh, come now, we needn't mind about that. That'll keep, you know. Asif I wanted the money. Ha, ha!"

Even a green boy like Stephen could not fail to wonder why, if MrCripps was as hard up as he had just described himself, he should now beso anxious to represent himself as not in want of money. 

"Please, I want to know the price. "

"As if I was a-going to name prices to a young gentleman like you!Please yourself about it. I shall not be disappointed if you gives meonly eighteenpence, and if _you_ thinks twelve bob is handsome, well, let it be. _I_ can struggle on somehow. "

This was uncomfortable for Stephen, who, too green, fortunately, tocomprehend the drift of Mr Cripps's gentle hints, again asked that hewould name a price. 

This time Mr Cripps answered more precisely. 

"Well, that there bat is worth a guinea, if you want to know, but I'llsay a sovereign for cash down. "

Stephen whistled a long-drawn whistle of dismay. 

"A sovereign! I can't pay all that! I thought it would be about sevenshillings!"

"Did you? You may think what you like, but that's my price, and you arelucky to get it at that. "

"I shall have to send it back. I can't afford so much, " said Stephen, despondingly. 

"Not if I know it! I'll have none of your second-hand bats, if I knowit. Come, young gentleman, I may be a poor man, but I'm not a fool, andyou'll find it out if I've any of your nonsense. Do you suppose I'venothing to do but wait on jackanapeses like you and your mates? Noerror! There you are. That'll do, and if you don't like it--well, thegovernor shall know about it!"

Stephen was dreadfully uncomfortable. Though, to his knowledge, he haddone nothing wrong, he felt terribly guilty at the bare notion of theDoctor being informed of his transactions with Mr Cripps, besidesgreatly in awe of the vague threats held out by that gentleman. He didnot venture on further argument, but, bidding a hasty farewell, returnedas fast as he could to Saint Dominic's, wondering whatever Oliver wouldsay, and sorely repenting the day when first he was tempted to think ofthe unlucky bat. 

He made a clean breast of it to his brother that evening, who, ofcourse, called him an ass, and everything else complimentary, and wasdeservedly angry. However, Stephen had reason to consider himself luckyto possess an elder brother at the school who had a little moreshrewdness than himself. Oliver was determined the debt should be paidat once, without even waiting to write home, and by borrowing tenshillings from Wraysford, and adding to it the residue of his ownpocket-money, the sovereign was raised and dispatched that very night toMr Cripps; after which Oliver commanded his brother to sit down andwrite a full confession of his folly home, and ask for the money, promising never to make such a fool of himself again. This task thesmall boy, with much shame and trembling at heart, accomplished; and indue time an answer came from his mother which not only relieved his mindbut paid off his debts to Oliver and Wraysford, and once for all closedthe business of the treble-cane splice bat. 

It would have been well for Loman if he could have got out of hisdifficulties as easily and as satisfactorily. 

Ever since he had gathered from Stephen Mr Cripps's wrath on receivingthe returned rod, he had been haunted by a dread lest the landlord ofthe Cockchafer should march up to Saint Dominic's, and possibly make anexposure of the unhappy business before the Doctor and the whole school. He therefore, after long hesitation and misgiving, determined himselfto call at the Cockchafer, and try in some way to settle matters. Onething reassured him. If Cripps had discovered the crack or the fracturein the rod, he would have heard of it long before now; and if he hadnot, then the longer the time the less chance was there of the damagebeing laid at his door. So he let three weeks elapse, and then went toMaltby. The Cockchafer was a small, unpretentious tavern, frequentedchiefly by carriers and tradesmen, and, I regret to say, not whollyunknown to some of the boys of Saint Dominic's, who were foolish enoughto persuade themselves that skittles, and billiards, and beer wereluxuries worth the risk incurred by breaking one of the rules of theschool. No boy was permitted to enter any place of refreshment except aconfectioner's in Maltby under the penalty of a severe punishment, whichmight, in a bad case, mean expulsion. Loman, therefore, a monitor and aSixth Form boy, had to take more than ordinary precautions to reach theCockchafer unobserved, which he succeeded in doing, and to hissatisfaction--as well as to his trepidation--found Mr Cripps theyounger at home. 

"Ho, he! my young shaver, " was that worthy's greeting, "here you are atlast. "

This was not encouraging to begin with. It sounded very much as if MrCripps had been looking forward to this visit. However, Loman put asbold a face as he could on to it, and replied, "Hullo, Cripps, how areyou? It's a long time since I saw you; jolly day, isn't it?"

"Jolly!" replied Mr Cripps, looking very gloomy, and drawing a glass ofbeer for the young gentleman before he ordered it. Loman did not likeit at all. There was something about Cripps's manner that made him feelvery uncomfortable. 

"Oh, Cripps, " he presently began, in as off-hand a manner as he couldassume under the depressing circumstances--"Oh, Cripps, about that rod, by the way. I hope you didn't mind my sending it back. The fact is, "(and here followed a lie which till that moment had not been in thespeaker's mind to tell)--"the fact is, I find I'm to get a present of arod this summer at home, or else of course I would have kept it. "

Mr Cripps said nothing, but began polishing up a pewter pot with anapkin. 

"I hope you got it back all right, " continued Loman, who felt as if hemust say something. "They are such fragile things, you know. I thoughtI'd just leave it in the bag and not touch it, but send it straightback, for fear it should be damaged. "

There was a queer smile about Mr Cripps's mouth as he asked, "Then youdidn't have a look at it even?"

"Well, no, I thought I would--I thought I wouldn't run any risk. "

Loman was amazed at himself. He had suddenly made up his mind to tellone lie, but here they were following one after another, as if he hadtold nothing but lies all his life! Alas, there was no drawing backeither!

"The fact is, " he began again, speaking for the sake of speaking, andnot even knowing what he was going to say--"the fact is--" Here thestreet door opened, and there entered hurriedly a boy whom Loman, to hisconfusion and consternation, recognised as Simon of the Fifth, theauthor of the "Love-Ballad. " What could the monitor say for himself toexplain his presence in this prohibited house?

"Hullo, Loman, I say, is that you?" remarked Simon. 

"Oh, Simon, how are you?" faltered the wretched Loman; "I've just poppedin to speak to Cripps about a fishing-rod. You'd better not come in;you might get into trouble. "

"Oh, never mind. You won't tell of me, and I won't tell of you. Glassof the usual, please, Cripps. I say, Loman, was that the fishing-rodyou were switching about out of your window that afternoon three weeksago?"

Loman turned red and white by turns, and wished the earth would swallowhim! And to think of this fellow, the biggest donkey in SaintDominic's, blurting out the very thing which of all things he hadstriven to keep concealed!

Mr Cripps's mouth worked up into a still more ugly smile. 

"I was below in the garden, you know, and could not make out what youwere up to. You nearly had my eye out with that hook. I say, what asmash you gave it when it caught in the ivy. Was it broken right off, or only cracked, eh? Cripps will mend it for you, won't you, Cripps?"

Neither Mr Cripps nor Loman spoke a word. The latter saw thatconcealment was no longer possible; and bitterly he rued the day whenfirst he heard the name of Cripps. 

That worthy, seeing the game to have come beautifully into his ownhands, was not slow to take advantage of it. He beckoned Loman into theinner parlour, whither the boy tremblingly followed, leaving Simon tofinish his glass of "the usual" undisturbed. 

I need not repeat the painful conversation that ensued between thesharper and the wretched boy. It was no use for the latter to deny orexplain. He was at the mercy of the man, and poor mercy it was. Cripps, with many oaths and threats, explained to Loman that he could, if he chose, have him up before a magistrate for fraud, and that hewould do so for a very little. Loman might choose for himself between acomplete exposure, involving his disgrace for life, or paying the priceof the rod down and 20 besides, and he might consider himself lucky morewas not demanded. 

The boy, driven to desperation between terror and shame, implored mercy, and protested with tears in his eyes that he would do anything, if onlyCripps did not expose him. 

"You know what it is, then, " replied Cripps. 

"But how am I to get the 20 pounds? I daren't ask for it at home, andthere's no one here will lend it me. Oh, Cripps, what shall I do?" andthe boy actually caught Mr Cripps's hand in his own as he put thequestion. 

"Well, look here, " said Mr Cripps, unbending a little, "that 20 poundsI must have, there's no mistake about it; but I don't want to be toohard on you, and I can put you up to raising the wind. "

"Oh, can you?" gasped Loman, eager to clutch at the faintest straw ofhope. "I'll do anything. "

"Very good; then it's just this: I've just got a straight tip about theDerby that I know for certain no one else has got--that is, that SirPatrick won't win, favourite and all as he is. Now there's a friend ofmine I can introduce you to, who's just wanting to put a twenty on thehorse, if he can find any one to take it. It wouldn't do for me to makethe wager, or he'd smell a rat; but if you put your money _against_ thehorse, you're bound to win, and all safe. What do you say?"

"I don't know anything about betting, " groaned Loman. "Are you quitesure I'd win?"

"Certain. If you lose I'll only ask 10 pounds of you, there! that's asgood as giving you 10 pounds myself on the horse, eh?"

"Well, " said Loman, "I suppose I must. Where is he?"

"Wait here a minute, and I'll bring him round. "

Loman waited, racked by a sense of ignominy and terror. Yet this seemedhis only hope. Could he but get this 20 pounds and pay off Cripps hewould be happy. Oh, how he repented listening to that first temptationto deceive!

In due time Mr Cripps returned with his friend, who was very civil onhearing Loman's desire to bet against Sir Patrick. 

"Make it a 50 pounds note while you are about it, " said he. 

"No, 20 pounds is all I want to go for, " replied Loman. 

"Twenty then, all serene, sir, " said the gentleman, booking the bet. "What'll you take to drink?"

"Nothing, thank you, " said Loman, hurriedly rising to leave. 

"Good-day, sir, " said Cripps, holding out his hand. 

Loman looked at the hand and then at Mr Cripps's face. There was thesame ugly leer about the latter, into which a spark of anger was infusedas the boy still held back from the proffered hand. 

With an inward groan Loman gave the hand a spiritless grasp, and thenhurried back miserable and conscience-stricken to Saint Dominic's. 

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

THE "DOMINICAN" AGAIN. 

The circumstances which had attended the publication of the first numberof the _Dominican_ had been such as to throw a damper over the futuresuccess of that valuable paper. It was most uncomfortably connected inthe minds of the Fifth with the cowardice of Oliver Greenfield, and withthe stigma which his conduct had cast upon the whole Form, and they oneand all experienced a great diminution of interest in its future. 

The Fifth were far more intent on vindicating their reputation with theSixth--and, indeed, with the rest of the school. They sought everyopportunity of bringing on a collision with the monitors. One or two oftheir number went, so far as to pick quarrels with members of the rivalclass, in hopes of a fight. But in this they were not successful. TheSixth chose to look upon this display of feeling among their juniors asa temporary aberration of mind, and were by no means to be tempted intohostilities. They asserted their authority wherever they could enforceit, and sacrificed it whenever it seemed more discreet to do so. Onlyone thing evoked a temporary display of vexation from them, and that waswhen Ricketts and Braddy appeared one day, arm-in-arm, in the passageswith _tall hats_ on their heads. Now, tall hats on week-days were theexclusive privilege of the Sixth at Saint Dominic's, and, worn by themduring school hours, served as the badge of monitorship. This action onthe part of the Fifth, therefore, was as good as a usurpation ofmonitorial rights, and that the Sixth were not disposed to stand. However, Raleigh, the captain, when appealed to, pooh-poohed the matter. "Let them be, " said he; "what do you want to make a row about it for?If the boys do mistake them for monitors, so much the less row in thepassages. "

Raleigh was always a man of peace--though it was rumoured he could, ifhe chose, thrash any two Dominicans going--and the monitors were muchdisgusted to find that he did not authorise them to interfere with theFifth in the matter. But the Fifth _were_ interfered with in anotherquarter, and in a way which caused them to drop their chimney-potscompletely. One afternoon the entire Fourth Junior appeared in thecorridors in their Sunday tiles! In their Sunday tiles they slid downthe banisters; in their Sunday tiles they played leapfrog; in theirSunday tiles they executed a monster tug-of-war in the bottom corridor!Stephen and Bramble fought their usual battle in top hats, and MasterPaul insisted on wearing the same decoration while washing up Oliver'stea-things. It was a splendid hit, and for once in a way Guinea-pigsand Tadpoles scored one, for the Fifth appeared next day in theirordinary "boilers, " and the dignity of the monitors was vindicated. 

But the blood was up between Fifth and Sixth, and each Form lookedforward to the match, Sixth _versus_ School, with redoubled interest. 

"Were not these boys fools?" some one asks. 

To be sure they were, sir. But what of that? they were none the lessboys, and most of them fine young fellows, too, with all their nonsense. 

However, as has been said, all this came out of the circumstances whichattended the bringing out of the first number of the _Dominican_, andthere seemed but a poor look-out for Number 2, which was now nearly due, in consequence. 

"What on earth am I to do?" asked Pembury of Tom Senior one day; "I'venot got a single contribution yet. There's you making out you're toobusy, and Rick the same. It's all humbug, I know! What are you busy atI'd like to know? I never saw you busy yet. "

"Upon my word, old man, " said Tom, "I'm awfully sorry, but I've got atremendous lot to do. I'm going to try for the French prize; I am, really. "

"And you'll get it, too; rather! Wasn't it you who translated `I knowthe way to write' into `_Je non le chemin a writer_' eh? Oh, stick toFrench by all means, Tom; it's in your line! But you might just as wellwrite for Number 2. "

"I really can't this time, " said Tom. 

Ricketts had an excuse very similar. Bullinger had hurt his foot, hesaid, and could not possibly write; and Braddy had begun to studyfossils, he said, and was bound to devote all his spare time to them. To all of whom Master Pembury gave a piece of his mind. 

"Wray, old man, " said he, that evening, "you and Noll and I shall haveto do the whole thing between us, that's all about it. "

"Awfully sorry!" said Wraysford; "you'll have to let me off this time. I'm working like nails for the Nightingale. "

"Bother the Nightingale, I say! What is it to the _Dominican_? Come, Isay, old man, that won't do! you aren't going to leave me in the lurchlike all the rest?"

But Wraysford was; he would gladly have helped if he could, but hereally must not this time; perhaps he would for the next. 

Oliver was as bad; he declared the things he had written before--evenwith Pembury's assistance--had taken him such ages to do, that he wasn'tgoing in for the next number. He was very sorry to disappoint, and allthat; but if Tony was in for a scholarship next Michaelmas he wouldunderstand the reason. Why not let the thing drop this month?

This, however, by no means met Tony's views. A pretty figure he wouldcut if it were to be said he couldn't keep up a paper for two numbersrunning! No! his mind was made up. Number 2 _should_ come out, even ifhe wrote every word of it himself! And with that determination hehobbled off to his study. Here he met Simon waiting for him. 

"Oh, " said the poet; "I only brought this, if you'll put it in. I thinkit's not bad. I could make it longer if you like. I find poetry comesso easily, you know!"

Tony glanced over the paper and grinned. "Thanks, awfully! This willdo capitally; it would spoil it to make it any longer. You're a brick, Simon! I wish _I_ could write poetry. "

"Oh, never mind. I could do some more bits about other things, youknow, if you like. "

Pembury said he didn't think he should require any more "bits, " but wasawfully obliged by this one, which was first-rate, a recommendationwhich sent Simon away happy to his study, there immediately to composethe opening stanza of his famous epic, "The Sole's Allegery--a sacredPoem. "

With one contribution in hand, Tony locked his door and sat down towrite. There was something out of the common about Pembury. With thebody of a cripple he had the heart of a lion, and difficulties only madeit more dauntless. Any one else would have thought twice, indeed, before undertaking the task he was now setting himself to do, andninety-nine out of every hundred would have abandoned it before it washalf done. But Tony was indomitable. Every night that week he lockedhis study-door, and threats and kicks and entreaties would not open iteven to his dearest friends. And slowly the huge white sheet before himshowed the signs of his diligence. The great long columns, one afteranother, filled up; paragraph followed paragraph, and article article. He coolly continued the "History of Saint Dominic's" begun last month byBullinger, and the "Reports of the Sixth Form Debates" commenced by TomSenior. And the "Diary of the Sixth Form Mouse" went on just as ifWraysford had never abandoned it; and the poem on the Guinea-pigs, promised in Number 1, by the author of "To a Tadpole, " duly appearedalso. Besides this, there were the continuations of Tony's ownarticles, and his "Personal Notes, " and "Squeaks from Tadpoleopolis, "and advertisements just as usual; until, in due time, the last columnwas filled up, the sheet triumphantly fixed in its frame, and astriumphantly hung up on its own particular nails on the wall outside theFifth Form door. 

It was a feat to be proud of, and Tony was justly and pardonably proud. It was at least a gratification next morning to see not only that theschool generally took unabated interest in the _Dominican_, but that hehad fairly astonished his own class-fellows. Their admiration of theeditor was unbounded and undisguised. Their consciences had all, moreor less, reproached them for backing out of their responsibilities inthe way they had; and now it quite touched them to see how, notwithstanding, Anthony had by his own labour made up for their defect, and sustained the reputation of the Fifth before all the school. 

The crush outside the door was greater than ever this time, and MasterPaul, who again acted as policeman, was obliged to summon Stephen to hisassistance in watching to see that no damage came to the preciousdocument. 

The account of the Alphabet Match was very graphic, and written quite inthe usual absurd "sporting style, " greatly to the amusement of most ofthose who had taken part in it. Here is a specimen:--

"At 4. 30, sharp, the leather was taken into custody by `Gamey' Raikes, at the wash-house end, who tried what his artful `yorkers' could do inthe way of dissolving partnership. But Teddy Loman kept his willowstraight up, and said `Not at home' to every poser, leaving Noll to doall the smacking. This pretty business might have gone on tillto-morrow week had the men's upper stories been as `O. K. ' as theirtimbers, but they messed about over a pretty snick of Noll's, and, afterpopping the question three times, Teddy got home just in time to see histwo bails tumble out of their groove. Teddy didn't like this, andbowled his partner a wide compliment, which Noll, like a sensible man, didn't walk out to, and Teddy was astonished to find his party could geton without him;" and so on. 

This version of the incident was by no means pleasant to Loman, but toevery one else it was highly diverting, and it actually made one or twoof the Fifth think that Oliver, after all, had not done such a verydiscreditable thing in taking that angry word in silence. If only hehad shown more spirit about the blow, they could have forgiven the rest. 

Then followed more from the "Sixth Form Mouse":--

"The Sixth held a Cabinet Council to-day to discuss who should go outfor nuts. The choice fell on Callonby. I wonder why the Sixth are sofond of nuts. Why, monkeys eat nuts. Perhaps that is the reason. Whata popular writer Mr Bohn is with the Sixth! they even read him atlesson time! I was quite sorry when the Doctor had to bone Wren's Bohn. I wonder, by the way, why that bird found it so hard to translate thesimplest sentence without his Bohn! The Doctor really shouldn't--I hopehe will restore to Wren his backbone by giving him back his Bohn. Hum!I heard some one smiling. I'll go. "

The Sixth, a good many of them, were imprudent enough to look veryguilty at the reading of this extract, a circumstance which appeared toafford keenest delight to the Fifth. But as Simon's poem followed, theyhad other food for thought at the moment. The poem was entitled--

 A Revverie. 

 I. 

 I walked me in the garden, all in the garden fair, And mused upon my hindmost sole all in the open air. When lo! I heard above my head a sound all like a wisk, I stepped me aside thereat out of the way so brisk. 

 [Hindmost sole, possibly "inmost soul"; wisk, possibly "whisk. "]

 II. 

 I looked me up, and there behold! and lo! a window broad, And out thereof I did dizzern a gallant fishing-rod, All sporting in the breaze untill the hook in ivy caught, And then the little lad he tried to pull it harder than he ought. 

 III. 

 It broke, alas! and so messeems fades life's perplecksing dreems, And vanish like that fishing-rod all in the dark messeems. I wonder if my perplecksing dreems will vanish like the rod in the dark, And I shall rise and rise and rise and rise all like a lark. 

 IV. 

 Oh wood I was a lark, a lark all lofty in the sky, I do not know what I should do to quench my blazing eye. I'd look me down on Dominic's, and think of the days when I was young, Or would I was an infant meek all sucking of my thumb. 

Again Simon, who had watched with intense interest the reception of hispoem, was perplexed to notice the amusement it had caused. Even PemburyHad mistaken its "inmost soul, " for he had placed it in the columndevoted to "Facetiae. " Nor could Simon understand why, for the nextweek, every one he met had his thumb in his mouth. It was very queer--one of life's mysteries--and he had thoughts of embodying the fact inhis "Sole's Allegery, " which was now rapidly approaching completion. 

After this bubbling up of pure verse there followed a few remarks aboutGuinea-pigs and Tadpoles, which had the effect of highly incensing thoseyoung gentlemen. The paragraph was entitled--

"Market Intelligence. 

"Half a dozen mixed Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles were offered for sale byauction on the centre landing yesterday. There was only a smallattendance. The auctioneer said he couldn't honestly recommend the lot, but they must be got rid of at any cost. He had scrubbed their facesand combed their hair for the occasion, but couldn't guarantee thatstate of things to last. But they might turn out to be of use assubstitutes in case worms should become scarce; and, any way, by boilingdown their fingers and collars, many gallons of valuable ink could beobtained. The first bid was a farthing, which seemed to be far beyondthe expectation of the salesman, who at once knocked the lot down. Thesale was such a success that it is proposed to knock down several morelots in a like manner. "

The rage of the Fourth Junior on reading this paragraph was somethingawful to witness. Bramble, feeling he must kick somebody on the legs, kicked Stephen, who, forgetting that he was on police duty, seizedBramble by the hair of his head and rushed off with him to the"meeting, " closely followed by Paul and the whole swarm. That meetinglasted from three to five. What awful threats were uttered, and whatawful vows taken, no one knew. At five o'clock Stephen's fight withBramble came off as usual, and all that evening Guinea-pigs and Tadpolesdid nothing but make paper darts. It was certain a crisis had come intheir history. The "dogs of war" were let loose! They would berevenged on somebody! So they at once began to be revenged on oneanother, till it should be possible to unite their forces against thecommon foe. 

But the remainder of the crowd stayed on to read one more extract fromthe _Dominican_. Under the title of "Reviews of Books, " Anthony hadreviewed in style the last number of the _Sixth Form Magazine_ asfollows:--

"This book appears to be the praiseworthy attempt of some ambitiouslittle boys to enter the field of letters. We are always pleased toencourage juvenile talent, but we would suggest that our young friendsmight have done better had they kept to their picture-books a littlelonger before launching out into literature on their own account. Inthe words of the poet we might say--

 "Babies, wait a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger, Then you'll fly away. "

"Nevertherless, we would refer to one or two of these interestingattempts. Take, for example, the essay on the `Character of JuliusCaesar, ' by one who signs himself Raleigh. This is very well written. Pains have been taken about the formation of the letters, and some ofthe capitals are specially worthy of praise. For one so young, werarely saw the capital D so well done. Dr Smith, were he alive, wouldbe pleased to see his remarks on Caesar so well and accurately copiedout. Master Wren gives us some verse--a translation out of Horace. Wewonder if Mr Wren is any relation to the late Jenny Wren who marriedMr Cock Robin. We should imagine from these verses that Mr Wren mustbe well acquainted with _Robbin_. Take one more, Master Loman's `AFunny Story. ' We are sorry to find Master Loman tells stories. Boysshouldn't tell stories; it's not right. But Master Loman unfortunatelydoes tell stories, and this is one. He calls it `A Funny Story. ' Thatis a story to begin with, for it is not funny. We don't know whatMaster Loman thinks funny; perhaps he calls being run out at cricketfunny, or hitting another boy in the mouth when he's looking anotherway. In any case, we can't make out why he calls this story funny. Theonly funny thing about it is its title, and his spelling `attach'`attatch. ' The last is really funny. It shows how partial Mr Loman isto _tea_. If this funny story is the result of his partiality to tea, we are afraid it was very weak stuff. "

Loman, who had already been made dreadfully uncomfortable by Simon'spoem, made no secret of his rage over this number of the _Dominican_. He was one of those vain fellows who cannot see a jest where it islevelled at themselves. The rest of the Sixth had the sense, whateverthey felt, to laugh at Anthony's hard hits. But not so Loman; he losthis temper completely. He ordered the _Dominican_ to be taken down; hethreatened to report the whole Fifth to the Doctor. He would not allowthe junior boys to stand and read it. In short, he made a regular assof himself. 

Undoubtedly Anthony had put a great deal of venom into his pen. Still, by taking all the poison and none of the humour to himself Loman made agreat mistake, and displayed a most unfortunate amount of weakness. 

He shut himself up in his study in a fume; he boxed Stephen's ears fornothing at all, and would see no one for the rest of the evening. Heknew well he could not have given his enemies a greater crow over himthan such conduct, and yet he could not command his vanity to actotherwise. 

But that evening, just before tea-time, something happened which gaveLoman more to think about than the _Dominican_. A letter marked"Immediate" came to him by the post. It was from Cripps, to say that, after all, Sir Patrick _had_ won the Derby!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

COMPANY AT THE COCKCHAFER. 

Cripps's letter was as follows:

"Hon. Sir, --This comes hoping you are well. You may like to know SirPatrick won. The tip was all out. Honourable Sir, --My friend wouldlike his ten pounds sharp, as he's a poor man. Please call in onSaturday afternoon. Your very humble servant, Ben Cripps. "

This letter was startling enough to drive fifty _Dominicans_ out ofLoman's head, and for a long time he could hardly realise how bad thenews it contained was. 

He had reckoned to a dead certainty on winning the bet which Cripps hadadvised him to make with his friend. Not that Loman knew anything aboutracing matters, but Cripps had been so confident, and it seemed so safeto bet against this one particular horse, that the idea of eventsturning out otherwise had never once entered his head. 

He went to the door and shouted for Stephen, who presently appeared witha paper dart in his hand. 

"Greenfield, " said Loman, "cut down at once to Maltby and bring me anewspaper. "

Stephen stared. 

"I've got my lessons to do, " he said. 

"Leave them here, I'll do them, " replied Loman; "look sharp. "

Still Stephen hesitated. 

"We aren't allowed out after seven without leave, " he faltered, longingto get back to the war preparations in the Fourth Junior. 

"I know that, and I give you leave--there!" said Loman, with all themonitorial dignity he could assume. This quite disarmed Stephen. Ofcourse a monitor could do no wrong, and it was no use objecting on thatscore. 

Still he was fain to find some other excuse. 

"I say, will it do in the morning?" he began. 

Loman's only reply was a book shied at his fag's head--quite explicitenough for all practical purposes. So Stephen hauled down his coloursand prepared to start. 

"Look sharp back, " said Loman, "and don't let any one see you going out. Look here, you can get yourself some brandy-balls with this. "

Stephen was not philosopher enough to argue with himself why, if he hadleave to go out, he ought to avoid being seen going out. He pocketedLoman's extra penny complacently, and giving one last longing look inthe direction of the Fourth Junior, slipped quietly out of the schooland made the best of his way down to Maltby. 

It was not easy at that time of day to get a paper. Stephen tried halfa dozen stationers' shops, but they were all sold out. They wereevidently more sought after than brandy-balls, of which he had nodifficulty in securing a pennyworth at an early stage of his pilgrimage. The man in the sweet-shop told him his only chance of getting a paperwas at the railway station. 

So to the station he strolled, with a brandy-ball in each cheek. Alas!the stall was closed for the day. 

Stephen did not like to be beaten, but there was nothing for it now butto give up this "paper-chase, " and return to Loman with a report of hisill-success. 

As he trotted back up High Street, looking about everywhere but in thedirection in which he was going (as is the habit of small boys), andwondering in his heart whether his funds could possibly stand the strainof another pennyworth of brandy-balls, he suddenly found himself insharp collision with a man who expressed himself on the subject ofclumsy boys generally in no very measured terms. 

Stephen looked up and saw Mr Cripps the younger standing before him. 

"Why!" exclaimed that worthy, giving over his irascible expletives, andadopting an air of unfeigned pleasure, "why, if it ain't young MasterGreenhorn. Ha, ha! How do, my young bantam? Pretty bobbish, eh?"

Stephen did not know exactly what was meant by "bobbish, " but repliedthat he was quite well, and sorry he had trodden on Mr Cripps's toes. 

"Never mind, " said Mr Cripps, magnanimously, "you're a light weight. And so you're taking a dander down town, are you? looking for lollipops, eh?"

Stephen blushed very red at this. However had Mr Cripps guessed aboutthe brandy-balls?

"I came to get a paper for Loman, " he said, "but they're all sold out. "

"No, are they? I wonder what Mr Loman wants with a paper, now?"

"He said it was very important, and I was to be sure to get one ofto-day's, " said Stephen. "Do you know where I can get one?"

"Of course. Come along with me; I've got one at home you can have. Andso he said it was very important, did he? That's queer. There'snothing in to-day's paper at all. Only something about a lowhorse-race. He don't want it for that, I guess; eh?"

"Oh, no, I shouldn't think, " said Stephen, trotting along beside hisamiable acquaintance. 

Mr Cripps was certainly a very friendly man, and as he conductedStephen to the Cockchafer, Stephen felt quite a liking for him, andcouldn't understand why Oliver and Wraysford both ran him down. 

True, Mr Cripps did use some words which didn't seem exactly proper, but that Stephen put down to the habit of men in that part. The manseemed to take such an interest in boys generally, and in Stephen inparticular, and was so interested and amused to hear all about theGuinea-pigs, and the _Dominican_, and the Sixth _versus_ School, thatStephen felt quite drawn out to him. And then he told Stephen such alot of funny stories, and treated him with such evident consideration, that the small boy felt quite flattered and delighted. 

So they reached the Cockchafer. Here Stephen, whose former visits hadall been to the lock-house, pulled up. 

"I say, " said he, "is this a public-house?"

"Getting on that way, " said Mr Cripps. 

"We aren't allowed to go in public-houses, " said Stephen, "it's one ofthe rules. "

"Ah, quite right too; not a good thing for boys at all. We'll go in bythe private door into my house, " said Mr Cripps. 

Stephen was not quite comfortable at this evasion, but followed MrCripps by the side door into his bar parlour. 

"You won't forget the paper, " he said, "please. I've got to be back inschool directly. "

"I'll have a look for it. Now, I guess you like ginger-beer, don'tyou?"

Stephen was particularly partial to ginger-beer, as it happened, andsaid so. 

"That's the style, " said Mr Cripps, producing a bottle. "Walk intothat while I go and get the paper. "

Stephen did walk into it with great relish, and began to think MrCripps quite a gentleman. He was certain, even if that bat had been apoor one, it was quite worth the money paid for it, and Oliver wasunjust in calling Cripps hard names. 

The landlord very soon returned with the paper. 

"Here you are, young governor. Now don't hurry away. It's lonely hereall by myself, and I like a young gentleman like you to talk to. I knewa nice little boy once, just your age, that used to come and see meregular once a week and play bagatelle with me. He was a good player atit too!"

"Could he get clear-board twice running with two balls?" asked Stephen, half jealous of the fame of this unknown rival. 

"Eh!--no, scarcely that. He wasn't quite such a dab as that. "

"I can do it, " said Stephen with a superior smile. 

"You? Not a bit of you!" said Mr Cripps, incredulously. 

"Yes, I can, " reiterated Stephen, delighted to have astonished his host. 

"I must see it before I can believe that, " said Mr Cripps. "Supposeyou show me on my board. "

Stephen promptly accepted the challenge, and forgetting in hisexcitement all about school rules or Loman's orders accompanied Crippsto the bagatelle-room, with its sanded floor, smelling of stale tobaccoand beer-dregs. His first attempt, greatly to Mr Cripps's glee, wasunsuccessful. 

"I knew you couldn't, " exclaimed that worthy. 

"I know I can do it, " said Stephen, excitedly. "Let's try again. "

After a few more trials he made the two clear-boards, and Mr Cripps wasduly astonished and impressed. 

"That's what I call smart play, " said he. "Now, if I was a betting man, I'd wager a sixpence you couldn't do it again. "

"Yes, I can, but I won't bet, " said Stephen. He did do it again, andMr Cripps said it was a good job for him the young swell didn't bet, orhe would have lost his sixpence. Stephen was triumphant. 

How long he would have gone on showing off his prowess to the admiringlandlord of the Cockchafer, and how far he might have advanced in theart of public-house bagatelle, I cannot say, but the sudden striking ofa clock and the entry of visitors into the room reminded him where hewas. 

"I must go back now, " he said, hurriedly. 

"Must you? Well, come again soon. I've a great fancy to learn thatthere stoke. I'm a born fool at bagatelle. What do you say to anotherginger-beer before you go?"

Stephen said "Thank you, " and then taking the newspaper in his hand badeCripps good-bye. 

"Good-bye, my fine young fellow. You're one of the right sort, you are. No stuck-up nonsense about you. That's why I fancy you. Bye-bye. Mylove to Mr Loman. "

Stephen hurried back to Saint Dominic's as fast as his legs would carryhim. He was not quite comfortable about his evening's proceedings, although he was not aware of having done anything wicked. Loman, amonitor, had given him leave to go down to Maltby, so that was hardly acrime; and as to the Cockchafer--well, he had only been in the privatepart of the house, and not the public bar, and surely there had been noharm in drinking ginger-beer and playing bagatelle, especially when hehad distinctly refused to bet on the latter. But, explain it as hewould, Stephen felt uncomfortable enough to determine him to say aslittle as possible about his expedition. 

He found Loman impatiently awaiting him. 

"Wherever have you been to all this time?" he demanded. 

"The papers were all sold out, " said Stephen. "I tried seven places. "

Loman had eagerly caught up and opened the paper while Stephen nervouslymade this explanation, and he took no further heed of his fag, whopresently, seeing he was no longer wanted, and relieved to get out ofreach of questions, prudently retired. 

A glance sufficed to confirm the bad news about the Derby. Sir Patrickhad won, and it was a fact therefore that Loman owed Cripps and hisfriend between them thirty pounds, without the least possibility ofpaying them. 

One thing was certain. He must see Cripps on Saturday, and trust to hisluck (though that of late had not been very trustworthy) to pull himthrough, somehow. 

Alas! what a spirit this, in which to meet difficulties! Loman had yetto learn that it is one thing to regret, and another thing to repent;that it is one thing to call one's self a fool, and another thing, quite, to cease to be one. 

But, as he said to himself, he must go through with it now, and thefirst step took him deeper than ever into the mire. 

For the coming Saturday was the day of the great cricket match, Sixthversus School, from which a Dominican would as soon think of desertingas of emigrating. 

But Loman must desert if he was to keep his appointment, and he managedthe proceeding with his now characteristic untruthfulness; a practice hewould have scorned only a few months ago. How easy the first wrongstep! What a long weary road when one, with aching heart, attempts toretrace the way! And at present Loman had made no serious effort inthat direction. 

On the Friday morning, greatly to the astonishment of all hisclass-fellows, he appeared in his place with his arm in a sling. 

"Hullo, Loman!" said Wren, the first whom he encountered, "what's therow with you?"

"Sprained my wrist, " said Loman, to whom, alas!--so easy is the downwardpath when once entered on--a lie had become an easy thing to utter. 

"How did you manage that?" exclaimed Callonby. "Mind you get it rightby to-morrow, or we _shall_ be in a fix. "

This little piece of flattery pleased Loman, who said, "I'm afraid Ishan't be able to play. "

"What! Who's that won't be able to play?" said Raleigh, coming up inunwonted excitement. 

"Loman; he's sprained his wrist. "

"Have you shown it to Dr Splints?" said Raleigh. 

"No, " said Loman, beginning to feel uncomfortable. "It's hardly badenough for that. "

"Then it's hardly bad enough to prevent your playing, " said Raleigh, drily. 

Loman did not like this. He and Raleigh never got on well together, andit was evident the captain was more angry than sympathetic now. 

"Whatever shall we do for bowlers?" said some one. 

"I'm awfully sorry, " said Loman, wishing he was anywhere but where hewas; "but how am I to help?"

"Whatever induced you to sprain your wrist?" said Wren. "You might justas well have put it off till Monday. "

"Just fancy how foolish we shall look if those young beggars beat us, asthey are almost sure to do, " said Winter. 

Loman was quickly losing his temper, for all this was, or seemed to be, addressed pointedly to him. 

"What's the use of talking like that?" he retorted. "You ass, you! asif I could help. "

"Shouldn't wonder if you could help, " replied Winter. 

"Perhaps, " suggested some one, "it was the _Dominican_ put him out ofjoint. It certainly did give him a rap over the knuckles. "

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Loman, angrily, and half drawing hissupposed sprained hand out of the sling. 

"Shut up, you fellows, " interposed Raleigh, authoritatively. "Bayneswill play in the eleven to-morrow instead of Loman, so there's an end ofthe matter. "

Loman was sorely mortified. He had expected his defection would createquite a sensation, and that his class-fellows would be inconsolable athis accident. Instead of that, he had only contrived to quarrel withnearly all of them, alienating their sympathy; and in the end he was tobe quietly superseded by Baynes, and the match was to go on as if he hadnever been heard of at Saint Dominic's. 

"Never mind; I'm bound to go and see Cripps. Besides, " said he tohimself, "they'll miss me to-morrow, whatever they say to-day. "

Next day, just when the great match was beginning, and the entire schoolwas hanging breathless on the issue of every ball, Loman quietly slippedout of Saint Dominic's, and walked rapidly and nervously down to theCockchafer in Maltby. 

"What _shall_ I say to Cripps?" was the wild question he kept askinghimself as he went along; and the answer had not come by the time hefound himself standing within that worthy's respectable premises. 

Mr Cripps was in his usual good humour. 

"Why, it's Mr Loman! so it is!" he exclaimed, in a rapture. "Now who_would_ have thought of seeing _you_ here?"

Loman was perplexed. 

"Why, you told me to come this afternoon, " said he. 

"Did I? Ah, I dare say! Never mind. Very kind of a young gentlemanlike you to come and see the likes of me. What'll you take?"

Loman did not know what to make of this at all. 

"I came to see you about that--that horse you told me to bet against, "he said. 

"I remember. What's his name? Sir Patrick, wasn't it? My friend toldme that he'd had the best of that. What was it? Ten bob?"

This affected ignorance of the whole matter in hand was utterlybewildering to Loman, who had fully expected that, instead of having toexplain himself, he would have the matter pretty plainly explained tohim by his sportive acquaintance. 

"No, ten pounds. That was what I was to pay if the horse won; and, Cripps, I can't pay it, or the twenty pounds either, to you. "

Cripps whistled. 

"That's a go and no mistake!" he said. "Afraid it won't do, mister. "

"You told me Sir Patrick was sure not to win, " said Loman. 

"Ah, there was several of us took in over that there horse, " coolly saidMr Cripps. "I lost a shilling myself over him. Nice to be you, flushof cash, and able to pay straight down. "

"I can't pay, " said Loman. 

"Ah, but the governor can, I'll wager, " insinuated Cripps. 

"He would never do it! It's no use asking him, " said Loman. 

Cripps whistled again. 

"That's awkward. And my friend wants his money, too, and so do I. "

"I really can't pay, " said Loman. "I say, Cripps, let us off thattwenty pounds. I really didn't mean about that rod. "

Mr Cripps fired up in righteous indignation. 

"Ah, I dare say, mister. You'll come and snivel now, will you? But youwere ready enough to cheat a honest man when you saw a chance. No, I'llhave my twenty or else there'll be a rumpus. Make no mistake of that!"

The bare idea of a "rumpus" cowed Loman at once. Anything but that. 

"Come, now, " said Cripps, encouragingly, "I'll wager you can raise thewind somewheres. "

"I wish I knew how. I see no chance whatever, unless--" and here abrilliant idea suddenly struck him--"unless I get the Nightingale. Ofcourse; I say, Cripps, will you wait till September?"

"What! Three months! And how do you suppose I'm to find bread to eattill then?" exclaimed Mr Cripps. 

"Oh, do!" said Loman. "I'm certain to be able to pay then. I forgotall about the Nightingale. "

"The Nightingale? It must be an uncommon spicy bird to fetch in thirtypound!"

"It's not a bird, " said Loman, laughing; "it's a scholarship. "

"A what?"

"A scholarship. I'm in for an exam, you know, and whoever's first getsfifty-pounds a year for three years. "

"But suppose you ain't first? what then?"

"Oh, but I'm _sure_ to be. I've only got Fifth Form fellows against me, and I'm certain to beat them!"

"Well, " said Mr Cripps, "I don't so much care about your nightingalesand cock-sparrows and scholarships, and all them traps, but I'd like tooblige you. "

"Oh, thank you!" cried Loman, delighted, and feeling already as if thedebt was paid. "And you'll get your friend to wait too, won't you?"

"Can't do that. I shall have to square up with him and look to you forthe lot, and most likely drop into the workhouse for my pains. "

"Oh, no. You can be quite certain of getting the money. "

"Well, blessed if I ain't a easy-going cove, " said Mr Cripps, with agrin. "It ain't every one as 'ud wait three months on your poll-parrotscholarships, or whatever you call 'em. Come, business is business. Give us your promise on a piece of paper--if you must impose upon me. "Loman, only too delighted, wrote at Mr Cripps's dictation a promise topay the thirty pounds, together with five pounds interest, in September, and quitted the Cockchafer with as light a heart as if he had actuallypaid off every penny of the debt. 

"Of course I'm safe to get it! Why ever didn't I think of that before?Won't I just work the rest of the term! Nothing like having an objectwhen you're grinding. "

With this philosophical reflection he re-entered Saint Dominic's, andunobserved rejoined the spectators in the cricket-field, just in time towitness a very exciting finish to a fiercely contested encounter. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

SIXTH VERSUS SCHOOL. 

Never had a Sixth versus School Match been looked forward to with moreexcitement at Saint Dominic's than the present one. Party feeling hadbeen running high all the term, intensified on the one hand by theunpopularity of some of the monitors, and on the other by the defiantattitude of the Fifth and the tone of their organ, the _Dominican_. 

The lower school naturally looked on with interest at this rivalrybetween the two head forms, the result of which, as might have beenexpected, was the reverse of beneficial for the discipline of the schoolgenerally. If the big boys set a bad example and disregard rules, whatcan one expect of the little ones?

So far, anything like conflict had been avoided. The Fifth had"cheeked" the Sixth, and the Sixth had snubbed the Fifth; but with theexception of Loman's assault on Oliver, which had not led to a fight, the war had been strictly one of words. Now, however, the opposingforces were to be ranged face to face at cricket; and to the juniorschool the opportunity seemed a grand one for a display of partisanshipone side or the other. 

The School Eleven, on this occasion, moreover, consisted exclusively ofFifth Form boys--a most unusual circumstance, and one which seemed to bethe result quite as much of management as of accident. At least so saidthe disappointed heroes of the Fourth. 

The match was, in fact--whatever it was formally styled--a match betweenthe Sixth and the Fifth, and the partisans of either side looked upon itas a decisive event in the respective glories of the two top forms. 

And now the day had come. All Saint Dominic's trooped out to themeadows, and there was a rush of small boys as usual for the frontbenches. Stephen found himself along with his trusty ally, Paul, andhis equally trusty enemy, Bramble, and some ten other Guinea-pigs andTadpoles, wedged like sardines upon a form that would comfortably holdsix, eagerly canvassing the prospects of the struggle. 

"The Sixth are going to win in a single innings, if you fellows want toknow, " announced Bramble, with all the authority of one who knows. 

"Not a bit of it, " replied Paul. "The Fifth are safe to win, I tellyou. "

"But they've got no decent bowlers, " said Raddleston. 

"Never mind, " said Stephen. "Loman's not going to play for the Sixth. He's sprained his wrist. "

"Hip, hip, hurrah?" yelled Paul, "that _is_ jolly! They are sure to belicked now. Are you sure he's out of it?"

"Yes. Look at him there with his arm in a sling. "

And Stephen pointed to where Loman stood in his ordinary clothes talkingto some of his fellows. 

"Well, that _is_ a piece of luck!" said Paul. "Who's to take hisplace?"

"Baynes, they say. He's no use, though. "

"Don't you be too cock-sure, you two, " growled Bramble. "I say we shallbeat you even if Loman don't play. Got any brandy-balls left, Greenfield?"

Similar speculations and hopes were being exchanged all round the field, and when at last the Fifth went out to field, and Callonby and Wren wentin to bat for the Sixth, you might have heard a cat sneeze, sobreathless was the excitement. 

Amid solemn silence the first few balls were bowled. The third ball ofthe first over came straight on to Wren's bat, who played it neatly backto the bowler. It was not a run, only a simple block; but it was thefirst play of the match, and so quite enough to loosen the tongues ofall the small boys, who yelled, and howled, and cheered as franticallyas if a six had been run or a wicket taken. And the ice once broken, every ball and every hit were marked and applauded as if empiresdepended on them. 

It was in the midst of this gradually rising excitement that Lomanslipped quietly and unobserved from the scene, and betook himself to theerrand on which we accompanied him in the preceding chapter. 

The two Sixth men went quickly to work, and at the end of the secondover had scored eight. Then Callonby, in stepping back to "draw" one ofWraysford's balls, knocked down his wicket. 

How the small boys yelled at this!

But the sight of Raleigh going in second soon silenced them. 

"They mean hard work by sending in the captain now, " said Paul. "Idon't like that!"

"No more do I, " said Stephen. "He always knocks Oliver's bowlingabout. "

"Oh, bother; is your brother bowling?" said Master Paul, quiteunconscious of wounding any one's feelings. "It's a pity they've got noone better. "

Stephen coloured up at this, and wondered what made Paul such a horridboy. 

"Better look-out for your eyes, " said Bramble, cheerily. "The captainalways knocks up this way, over square-leg's head. "

There was a general buzz of youngsters round the field, as the hero ofthe school walked up to the wicket, and coolly turned to face Oliver'sbowling. 

The scorer in the tent hurriedly sharpened his pencil. The big fellows, who had been standing up to watch the opening overs, sat down on thegrass and made themselves comfortable. Something was going to happen, evidently. The captain was in, and meant business. 

Oliver gripped the ball hard in his hand, and walked back to the end ofhis run. "Play!" cried the umpire, and amid dead silence the ball shotfrom the bowler's hand. 

Next moment there rose a shout loud enough to deafen all SaintDominic's. The ball was flying fifty feet up in the air, and Raleighwas slowly walking, bat in hand, back to the tent he had only a momentago quitted!

The captain had been clean bowled, first ball!

Who shall describe the excitement, the yelling, the cheering, theconsternation that followed? Paul got up and danced a hornpipe on thebench; Bramble kicked the boy nearest to him. "Well bowled, sir!"shouted some. "Hard lines!" screamed others. "Hurrah for the Fifth!"

"You'll beat them yet, Sixth!" such were a few of the shouts audibleabove the general clamour. 

As for Stephen, he was wild with joy. He was a staunch partisan of theFifth in any case, but that was nothing to the fact that it was _his_brother, his own brother and nobody else's, who had bowled that eventfulball, and who was at that moment the hero of Saint Dominic's. Stephenfelt as proud and elated as if he had bowled the ball himself, and couldafford to be absolutely patronising to those around him, on the head ofthis achievement. 

"That wasn't a bad ball of Oliver's, " he said to Paul. "He can bowlvery well when he tries. "

"It was a beastly fluke!" roared Bramble, determined to see no merit inthe exploit. 

"Shut up and don't make a row, " said Stephen, with a bland smile offorgiveness. 

Bramble promised his adversary to shut _him_ up, and after a little morediscussion and altercation and jubilation, the excitement subsided, andanother man went in. All this while the Fifth were in ecstasies. Theycontrolled their feelings, however, contenting themselves with clappingOliver on the back till he was nearly dead, and speculating on thechances of beating their adversaries in a single innings. 

But they had not won the match yet. 

Winter was next man in, and he and Wren fell to work very speedily in adecidedly business-like way. No big hits were made, but the scorecrawled up by ones and twos steadily, and the longer they were at it thesteadier they played. Loud cheers announced the posting of thirty onthe signal-board, but still the score went on. Now it was a slip, now abye, now a quiet cut. 

"Bravo! well played!" cried Raleigh and his men frequently. Thecaptain, by the way, was in excellent spirits, despite his misfortune. 

Thirty-five, forty! The Fifth began to look hot and puzzled. Thebatsmen were evidently far too much at home with the bowling. A changemust be made, even though it be to put on only a second-rate bowler. 

Tom Senior was put on. He was nothing like as good a bowler as eitherWraysford, or Oliver, or Ricketts. He bowled a very ordinary slow lob, without either twist or shoot, and was usually knocked aboutplentifully; and this appeared likely to be his fate now, for Wren gothold of his first ball, and knocked it right over into the scorer's tentfor five. The Fifth groaned, and could have torn the wretched Tom topieces. But the next ball was more lucky; Winter hit it, indeed, but hehit it up, sky-high, over the bowler's head, and before it reached theground Bullinger was safe underneath it. It was with a sigh of reliefthat the Fifth saw this awkward partnership broken up. The score was atforty-eight for three wickets; quite enough too!

After this the innings progressed more evenly. Men came in and went outmore as usual, each contributing his three or four, and one or two theirten or twelve. Among the latter was Baynes, who, at the last moment, itwill be remembered, had been put into the eleven to replace Loman. Bycareful play he managed to put together ten, greatly to his own delight, and not a little to the surprise of his friends. 

In due time the last wicket of the Sixth fell, to a total of eighty-fourruns. 

The small boys on the bench had had leisure to abate their ardour bythis time. Bramble had recovered his spirits, and Paul and Stephenlooked a little blue as they saw the total signalled. 

"Eighty-four's a lot, " said Stephen. 

Paul nodded glumly. 

"Ya, ha! How do you like it, Guinea-pigs?" jeered Bramble. "I hope_you'll_ get half as much. _I_ knew how it would be. "

The two friends listened to these taunts in silent sorrow, and wishedthe next innings would begin. 

It did presently, and not very brilliantly either. The Fifth onlymanaged to score fifty-one, and to this total Wraysford was the onlyplayer who made anything like good scoring. Oliver got out for six, Ricketts for nine, and Tom Senior and Braddy both for a "duck's-egg. "Altogether it was a meagre performance, and things looked very gloomyfor the Fifth when, for a second time, their adversaries took thewickets. 

Things never turn out at cricket as one expects, however, and the secondinnings of the Sixth was no exception to the rule. They only madethirty-six runs. Stephen and Paul were hoarse with yelling, as firstone wicket, then another, went down for scarcely a run. Raleigh andBaynes seemed the only two who could stand up at all to the bowling ofOliver and Wraysford, but even their efforts could not keep the wicketsup for long. 

Every one saw now that the final innings would be a desperate struggle. The Fifth wanted sixty-nine to be equal and seventy to win, and thequestion was, Would they do it in time?

Stephen and his confederate felt the weight of this question sooppressive that they left the irritating company of Mr Bramble, andwalked off and joined themselves to a group of Fourth Form fellows, whowere watching the match with sulky interest, evidently sore that theyhad none of their men in the School Eleven. 

"They'll never do it, and serve them right!" said one. "Why didn't theyput Mansfield in the eleven, or Banks? They're far more use than Fisheror Braddy. "

"For all that, it'll be a sell if the Sixth lick, " said another. 

"I wouldn't much care. If we are going to be sat upon by those Fifthsnobs every time an eleven is made up, it's quite time we did go in withthe Sixth. "

"Jolly for the Sixth!" retorted the other; whereupon Stephen laughed, and had his ears boxed for being cheeky. The Fourth Senior could notstand "cheek. "

But Saint Dominic's generally was "sweet" on the Fifth, and hoped theywould win. When, therefore, Tom Senior and Bullinger went in first andbegan to score there was great rejoicing. 

But the Fourth Form fellows, among whom Stephen now was, refused tocheer for any one; criticism was more in their line. 

"Did you ever see a fellow hit across wickets more horribly thanSenior?" said one. 

"Just look at that!" cried another. "That Bullinger's a downright muffnot to get that last ball to leg! I could have got it easily. "

"Well, with that bowling, it's a disgrace if they _don't_ score; that'sall I can say, " remarked a third. 

And so these Fourth Form grandees went on, much to Stephen's wrath, who, when Oliver went in, removed somewhere else, so as to be out of ear-shotof any offensive remarks. 

Oliver, however, played so well that even the Fourth Form critics couldhardly run him down. He survived all the other wickets of his side, and, though not making a brilliant score, did what was almost asuseful--played steadily, and gradually demoralised the bowling of theenemy. 

As the game went on the excitement increased rapidly; and when at lengththe ninth wicket went down for sixty-one, and the last man in appeared, with nine to win, the eagerness on both sides scarcely knew bounds. Every ball, every piece of fielding, was cheered by one side, and everyhit and every piece of play was as vehemently cheered by the other. IfRaleigh and Wren had been nervous bowlers, they would undoubtedly havebeen disconcerted by the dead silence, followed by terrific applause, amid which every ball--even a wide--was delivered. But happily theywere not. 

It was at this critical juncture that Loman reappeared on the scene, much consoled to have the interview with Cripps over, and quite readynow to hear every one lament his absence from the match. 

The last man in was Webster, a small Fifth boy, who in the last inningshad signalised himself by making a duck's-egg. The Fifth scarcely daredhope he would stay in long enough for the nine runs required to be made, and looked on now almost pale with anxiety. 

"Now, " said Pembury, near whom Loman, as well as our two Guinea-pigs, found themselves, "it all depends on Oliver, and I back Oliver to do it, don't you, Loamy?"

Loman, who since the last _Dominican_ had not been on speaking termswith Pembury, did not vouchsafe a reply, "I do!" said Stephen, boldly. 

"Do you, really?" replied Pembury, looking round at the boy. "Perhapsyou back yourself to talk when you're not spoken to, eh, Mr Greenhorn?"

"Bravo! bravo! Well run, sir! Bravo, Fifth!" was the cry as Oliver, following up the first ball of the over, pilfered a bye from thelong-stop. 

"Didn't I tell you!" exclaimed Pembury, delighted; "he'll save us; he'sgot down to that end on purpose to take the bowling. Do you twig, Loamy? And he'll stick to that end till the last ball of the over, andthen he'll run an odd number, and get up to the other end. Do youcomprehend?"

"You seem to know all about it, " growled Loman, who saw the force ofPembury's observations, but greatly disliked it all the same. 

"Do I, really?" replied the lame boy; "how odd that is, now--particularly without a crib!"

Loman was fast losing patience--a fact which seemed to have anything buta damping effect on the editor of the _Dominican_. But another hit ortwo by Oliver created a momentary diversion. It was quite clear thatPembury's version of Oliver's tactics was a correct one. He couldeasily have run three, but preferred to sacrifice a run rather thanleave the incompetent and flurried Webster to face the bowling. 

"Six to win!" cried Stephen; "I'm _certain_ Oliver will do it!"

"Yes, Oliver was always a plodding old blockhead!" drily observedPembury, who seemed to enjoy the small boy's indignation whenever anyone spoke disrespectfully of his big brother. 

"He's not a blockhead!" retorted Stephen, fiercely. 

"Go it! Come and kick my legs, young 'un; there's no one near butLoamy, and he can't hurt. "

"Look here, you lame little wretch!" exclaimed Loman, in a passion; "ifI have any more of your impudence I'll box your ears!"

"I thought your wrist was sprained?" artlessly observed Pembury. "Here, young Paul, let's get behind you, there's a good fellow, I _am_ in sucha funk!"

Whether Loman would have carried out his threat or not is doubtful, butat that moment a terrific shout greeted another hit by Oliver--the besthe had made during the match--for which he ran four. One to tie, two towin! will they do it?

It was a critical moment for Saint Dominic's. Had the two batsmen beenplaying for their lives they could not have been more anxiously watched;even Pembury became silent. 

And now the last ball of the over is bowled in dead silence. Onlookerscan even hear the whizz with which it leaves Wren's hand. 

It is almost wide, but Oliver steps out to it and just touches it. Webster is half across the wickets already--ready for a bye. Olivercalls to him to come on, and runs. It is a desperate shave--toodesperate for good play. But who cares for that when that run haspulled the two sides level, and when, best of all, Oliver has got up tothe proper end for the next over?

Equal! What a shout greets the announcement! But it dies awaysuddenly, and a new anxious silence ensues. The game is saved, but notwon; another run is wanted. 

No one says a word, but the Fifth everywhere look on with a confidencewhich is far more eloquent than words. 

Raleigh is the bowler from the lower end, and the Sixth send out theirhearts to him. He may save them yet!

He runs, in his usual unconcerned manner, up to the wicket and deliversthe ball. It is one which there is but one way of playing--among theslips. 

Oliver understands it evidently, and, to the joy of the Fifth, plays it. But why does their cheer drop suddenly, and why in a moment is itdrowned, over and over and over again, by the cheers of the Sixth andtheir partisans, as the crowd suddenly breaks into the field, and theball shoots high up in the air?

A catch! Baynes, the odd man, had missed a chance a few overs back fromstanding too deep. This time he had crept in close, and saved the Sixthby one of the neatest low-catches that had ever been seen in a Dominicanmatch. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

A LOWER SCHOOL FESTIVAL. 

"I tell you what, Wray, " said Oliver one evening about a week after thematch, "I heartily wish this term was over. "

"Why, that's just what I heard your young brother say. He is going tolearn the bicycle, he says, in the holidays. "

"Oh, it's not the holidays I want, " said Oliver. "But somehow thingshave gone all wrong. I've been off my luck completely this term. "

"Off your luck!--You great discontented, ungrateful bear. Haven't yougot the English prize? Aren't you in the School Eleven? and didn't youmake top score in the match with the Sixth last Saturday? Whatever doyou mean by `off your luck'?"

"Oh, it's not that, you know, " said Oliver, pulling a quill pen to bits. "What I mean is--oh, bother!--a fellow can't explain it. "

"So it seems, " laughed Wraysford; "but I wish a fellow could, for I'venot a notion what you're driving at. "

"Well, I mean I'm not doing much good. There's that young brother ofmine, for instance. What good have I been to him? There have I let himgo and do just what he likes, and not looked after him a bit ever sincehe came here. "

"And I wager he's got on all the better for not being tied up to yourapron strings. He's a fine honest little chap, is young Greenfield. "

"Oh, I dare say; but somehow I don't seem to know as much of him now asI used to do before he came here. "

"That's Loman's fault, I bet you anything, " exclaimed Wraysford. "I'msure he won't do the kid any good. But Rastle was saying only yesterdayhow well Stephen was getting on in class. "

"Was he? It's little thanks to me if he is, " said Oliver, gloomily. 

"And what else have you got to grumble about?" asked his friend. 

"Why, you know how I'm out with the Fifth over that affair with Loman. They all set me down as a coward, and I'm not that. "

"Of course you aren't, " warmly replied the other. "But, Noll, you toldme a little while ago you didn't care a snap what they thought. "

"No more I do, in a way. But it's very uncomfortable. "

"Why don't you tell them straight out why you didn't let out at Loman?They are sure to respect your motive. "

"Yes, and set me down as posing as a martyr or a saint! No! I'd soonerpass as a coward than set up as a saint when I'm not one. Why, Wray, ifyou'll believe me, I've been a worse Christian since I began to try tobe one, than I ever was before. I'm for ever losing my temper, and--"

"Shut up that tune, now, " interposed Wraysford, hurriedly. "If you arebeginning at that again, I'll go. As if you didn't know you were thebest fellow in the school!"

"I'm not the best, _or_ anything like, " said Oliver, warmly; "I hateyour saying so--I wish almost I had never told you anything about it. "

"Well, I don't know, " said Wraysford, walking to the window and lookingout. "Ever since you told me of it, I've been trying myself in a mildway to go straight. But it's desperate hard work. "

"Desperate hard work even if you try in more than a mild way, " saidOliver. 

Both were silent for a little, and then Oliver, hurriedly changing thesubject, said, "And then, to proceed with my growl, I'm certain to comea howler over the Nightingale. "

Wraysford turned from the window with a laugh. 

"I suppose you expect me to sympathise with you about that, eh? Thebigger the howler the better for me! I only wish you were a trueprophet, Noll, in that particular. "

"Why, of course you'll beat me--and if you don't Loman will. I hearhe's grinding away like nuts. "

"Is he, though?" said Wraysford. 

"Yes, and he's going to get a `coach' in the holidays too. "

"More likely a dog-cart. Anyhow, I dare say he will run us close. Buthe's such a shifty fellow, there's no knowing whether he will stay out. "

Just at that moment a terrific row came up from below. 

"Whatever's up down there?"

"Only the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles. By the way, " said Wraysford, "they've got a grand `supper, ' as they call it, on to-night to celebratetheir cricket match. Suppose we go and see the fun?"

"All right!" said Oliver. "Who won the match?"

"Why, what a question! Do you suppose a match between Guinea-pigs andTadpoles _ever_ came to an end? They had a free fight at the end of thefirst innings. The Tadpole umpire gave one of his own men `not out'when he hit his wicket, and they made a personal question of it, andfell out. Your young brother, I hear, greatly distinguished himself inthe argument. "

"Well, it doesn't seem to interfere with their spirits now, to judge ofthe row they are making. Just listen!"

By this time they had reached the door of the Fourth Junior room, whenceproceeded a noise such as one often hears in a certain populardepartment of the Zoological Gardens. Amid the tumult and hubbub thetwo friends had not much difficulty in slipping in unobserved andseating themselves comfortably in an obscure corner of the festiveapartment, behind a pyramid of piled-up chairs and forms. 

The Junior "cricket feast" was an institution in Saint Dominic's, andwas an occasion when any one who had nerves to be excruciated orear-drums to be broken took care to keep out of the way. In place ofthe usual desks and forms, a long table ran down the room, round whichsome fifty or sixty urchins sat, regaling themselves with what was leftof a vast spread of plum-cake, buns, and ginger-beer. How thesebanquets were provided was always a mystery to outsiders. Some said alevy of threepence a head was made; others, that every boy was bound inhonour to contribute something eatable to the feast; and others averredthat every boy had to bring his own bag and bottle, and no more. Bethat as it might, the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles at present assembledlooked uncommonly tight about the jackets after it all, and not one hadthe appearance of actual starvation written on his lineaments. 

The animal part of the feast, however, was now over, and theintellectual was beginning. The tremendous noise which had broughtOliver and Wraysford on to the scene had indeed been but the applausewhich followed the chairman's opening song--a musical effort which wasimperatively encored by a large and enthusiastic audience. 

The chairman, by the way, was no other than our friend Bramble, who byreason of seniority--he had been two years in the Fourth Junior, andshowed no signs of rising higher all his life--claimed to preside on allsuch occasions. He sat up at the top end in stately glory, higher thanthe rest by the thickness of a Liddell and Scott, which was placed onhis chair to lift him up to the required elevation, blushingly receivingthe applause with which his song was greeted, and modestly volunteeringto sing it again if the fellows liked. 

The fellows did like. Mr Bramble mounted once more on to the seat ofhis chair, and saying, "Look-out for the chorus!" began one of thetime-honoured Dominican cricket songs. It consisted of about twelveverses altogether, but three will be quite enough for the reader. 

 "There was a little lad, (Well bowled!) And a little bat he had; (Well bowled!) He skipped up to the wicket, And thought he'd play some cricket, But he didn't, for he was-- Well bowled!

 "He thought he'd make a score (So bold), And lead-off with a four (So bold); So he walked out to a twister, But somehow sort of missed her, And she bailed him, for he was Too bold. 

 "Now all ye little boys (So bold), Who like to make a noise (So bold), Take warning by young Walker, Keep your bat down to a yorker, Or, don't you see? you'll be-- Well bowled!"

The virtue of the pathetic ballad was in the chorus, which was usuallynot sung, but spoken, and so presented a noble opportunity for varietyof tone and expression, which was greedily seized upon by the riotousyoung gentlemen into whose mouths it was entrusted. By the time the sadadventures of Master Walker had been rehearsed in all their twelveverses, the meeting was so hoarse that to the two elder boys it seemedas if the proceedings must necessarily come abruptly to a close for wantof voice. 

But no! If the meeting was for the moment incapable of song, speech wasyet possible and behold there arose Master Paul in his place to proposea toast. 

Now Master Paul was a Guinea-pig, and accounted a mighty man in histribe. Any one might have supposed that the purpose for which he hadnow risen was to propose in complimentary terms the health of hisgallant opponents the Tadpoles. This, however, was far from hisintention. His modesty had another theme. "Ladies and gentlemen, " hebegan. There were no ladies present, but that didn't matter. Tremendous cheers greeted this opening. "You all know me; I am one ofyourselves. " Paul had borrowed this expression from the speech of aRadical orator, which had appeared recently in the papers. Every oneknew it was borrowed, for he had asked about twenty of his friendsduring the last week whether that wouldn't be "a showy lead-off for hiscricket feast jaw?"

The quotation was, however, now greeted as vociferously as if it hadbeen strictly original, and shouts of "So you are!"

"Bravo, Paul!" for a while drowned the orator's voice. When silence wasrestored his eloquence took a new and unexpected departure. "JemmyWelch, I'll punch your head when we get outside, see if I don't!" JemmyWelch was a Guinea-pig who had just made a particularly good shot at thespeaker's nose with a piece of plum-cake. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, Ishall not detain you with a speech (loud cheers from all, and `Jollygood job!' from Bramble). I shall go on speaking just as long as Ichoose, Bramble, so now! (Cheers. ) I've as much right to speak as youhave. (Applause. ) You're only a stuck-up duffer. (Terrific cheers, and a fight down at the end of the table. ) I beg to drink the health ofthe Guinea-pigs. (Loud Guinea-pig cheers. ) We licked the old Tadpolesin the match. (`No you didn't!' `That's a cram!' and groans from theTadpoles. ) I say we did! Your umpire was a cheat--they always are! Webeat you hollow, didn't we, Stee Greenfield?"

"Yes, rather!" shouted Stephen, snatching a piece of cake away from aTadpole and shying it to a Guinea-pig. 

"That's eight matches we've won, " proceeded Paul; "and--all right, Spicer! I saw you do it this time! See if I don't pay you for it!"whereat the speaker hurriedly quitted his seat and, amid howls andyells, proceeded to "pay out" Spicer. 

Meanwhile Stephen heard his name suddenly called upon for a song, aninvitation he promptly obeyed. But as the clamour was at the timedeafening, and the attention of the audience was wholly monopolised bythe commercial transactions taking place between Paul and Spicer, theeffect of the performance was somewhat lost. Oliver certainly did seehis young brother mount up on the table, turn very red in the face, openhis mouth and shut it, smile in one part, look sorrowful in another, andwave his hand above his head in another. But that was the onlyintimation he had of a musical performance proceeding. Words and tunewere utterly inaudible by any one except the singer himself--even if_he_ heard them. 

This was getting monotonous, and the two visitors were thinking ofwithdrawing, when the door suddenly opened, and a dead silenceprevailed. The new-comer was the dirtiest and most ferocious-looking ofall the boys in the lower school, who rushed into the room breathless, and in what would have been a white heat had his face been clean enoughto show it. "What do you think?" he gasped, catching hold of the backof a chair for support; "Tony Pembury's kept me all this while brushinghis clothes! I told him it was cricket feast, but he didn't care! Whatdo you think of that? Of course, you've finished all the grub; I knewyou would!"

This last plaintive wail of disappointment was drowned in the clamour ofexecration which greeted the boy's announcement. Lesser feuds wereinstantly forgotten in presence of this great insult. The most sacredtraditions of Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles were being trampled upon by thetyrants of the upper school! Not even on cricket feast night was a fagto be let off fagging!

It was enough! The last straw breaks the camel's back, and the youngDominicans had now reached the point of desperation. 

It was long before silence enough could be restored, and then theredoubtable Spicer yelled out, "Let's strike!"

The cry was taken up with yells of enthusiasm--"Strike! No morefagging!"

"Any boy who fags after this, " screamed Bramble, "will be cut dead!Those who promise hold up your hands--mind, it's a promise!"

There was no mistaking the temper of the meeting, every hand in the roomwas held up. 

"Mind now, no giving in!" cried Paul. "Let's stick all together. Greenfield senior shall _kill_ me before I do anything more for him!"

"Poor fellow!" whispered Oliver, laughing; "what a lot of martyrdomshe'll have to put up with!"

"And Pembury shall kill me, " squealed the last comer, who had comfortedhimself with several crusts of plum-cakes and the dregs of about a dozenbottles of ginger-beer. And every one protested their willingness todie in the good cause. 

At this stage Oliver and Wraysford withdrew unobserved. "I'm afraidwe've been eavesdropping, " said Oliver. "Anyhow, I don't mean to takeadvantage of what I've heard. "

"What a young ruffian your brother is!" said Wraysford; "he lookedtremendously in earnest!"

"Yes, he always is. You'll find he'll keep his word far better thanmost of them. "

"If he does, I'm afraid Loman will make it unpleasant for him, " saidWraysford. 

"Very likely. "

"Then you'll have to interfere. "

"Why, what a bloodthirsty chap you are, Wray! You are longing for me toquarrel with Loman. I'll wait till young Stephen asks me to. "

"Do you think he will? He's a proud little chap. "

Oliver laughed. "It'll serve him right if he does get a lesson. Didever you see such a lot of young cannibals as those youngsters? Are youcoming to have supper with me?"

The nine o'clock bell soon rang, and, as usual, Oliver went to his doorand shouted for Paul. 

No Paul came. 

He shouted again and again, but the fag did not appear. "They meanbusiness, " he said. "What shall I do? Paul!"

This time there came a reply down the passage--"Shan't come!"

"Ho, he!" said Oliver; "this is serious; they are sticking to theirstrike with a vengeance! I suppose I must go and look for my fag, eh, Wray? Discipline must be maintained. "

So saying, Oliver stepped out into the passage and strolled off in thedirection from which the rebel's voice had proceeded. The passages wereempty; only in the Fourth Junior room was there a sound of clamour. 

Oliver went to the door; it was shut. He pushed; it was fortified. Hekicked on it; a defiant howl greeted him from the inside. He calledaloud on his fag; another "Shan't come!" was his only answer. 

It was getting past a joke, and Oliver's temper was, as we have seen notof the longest. He kicked again, angrily, and ordered Paul to appear. 

The same answer was given, accompanied with the same yell, and Oliver'stemper went faster than ever. He forgot he was making himselfridiculous; he forgot he was only affording a triumph to those whom hedesired to punish; he forgot the good resolutions which had held himback on a former occasion, and, giving way to sudden rage, kickeddesperately at the door once more. 

This time his forcible appeal had some effect. The lower panel of thedoor gave way before the blow and crashed inwards, leaving a breachlarge enough to admit a football. 

It was an unlucky piece of success for Oliver, for next moment he felthis foot grabbed by half a dozen small hands within and held firmly, rendering him unable to stir from his ridiculous position. In vain hestruggled and raged; he was a tight prisoner, at the mercy of hiscaptors. 

It was all he could do to stand on his one foot, clinging wildly to thehandle of the door. In this dignified attitude Wraysford presentlyfound his friend, and in such a state of passion and fury as he hadnever before seen him. 

To rap the array of inky knuckles inside with a ruler, and so disengagethe captive foot, was the work of a minute. Oliver stood for a momentfacing the door and trembling with anger, but Wraysford, taking himgently by the arm, said, "Come along, old boy!"

There was something in his voice and look which brought a sudden flushinto the pale face of the angry Oliver. Without a word, he turned fromthe door and accompanied his friend back to the study. There were nolong talks, no lectures, no remorseful confessions that evening. Thetwo talked perhaps less than usual, and when they did it was aboutordinary school topics. 

No reference was made either then or for a long while afterwards to theevents of the evening. And yet Oliver and Wraysford, somehow, seemedmore than ever drawn together, and to understand one another betterafter this than had ever been the case before. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

GUINEA-PIGS AND TADPOLES ON STRIKE. 

If anything had been required to make the "strike" of the Guinea-pigsand Tadpoles a serious matter, the "affair of Greenfield senior's rightfoot" undoubtedly had that effect. The _eclat_ which that heroicexploit lent to the mutiny was simply marvellous. The story was toldwith fifty exaggerations all over the school. One report said that thewhole body of the monitors had besieged the Fourth Junior door, and hadbeen repulsed with heavy slaughter. Another declared that Oliver hadbeen captured by the fags, and branded on the soles of his feet with a Gand a T, to commemorate the emancipation of the Guinea-pigs andTadpoles; and a third veracious narrative went so far as to say that theUpper Fifth and several members of the Sixth had humbly come and beggedforgiveness for their past misdeeds, and were henceforth to become thefags of their late victims. 

True or untrue as these stories were, any amount of glory accompaniedthe beginning of the strike, and there was sufficient sense of commondanger to unite the youngsters in very close bonds. You rarely caught aGuinea-pig or a Tadpole alone now; they walked about in dozens, and werevery wide awake. They assembled on every possible occasion in theirroom, and fortified their door with chairs and desks, and their zealwith fiery orations and excited conjurations. One wretched youth whothe first evening had been weak enough to poke his master's fire, wasexpelled ignominiously from the community, and for a week afterwardslived the life of an outcast in Saint Dominic's. The youngsters were inearnest, and no mistake. Stephen Greenfield, as was only natural, didnot altogether find cause for exultation over the event which led to thestrike. For a whole day he was very angry on his brother's account, andthreatened to stand aloof from the revolution altogether; but when itwas explained to him this would lead to a general "smash-up" of thestrike, and when it was further explained that the fellows who caughthold of his big brother's right foot couldn't possibly be expected toknow to whom that foot belonged, he relented, and entered asenthusiastically as any one into the business. Indeed, if all therebels had been like Stephen, the fags at Saint Dominic's would be onstrike to this day. He contemplated martyrdom with the utmostequanimity, and the Inquisition itself never saw a more determinedvictim. 

The morning after the famous "cricket feast" gave him his firstopportunity of sacrificing himself for the good of his country. Lomanmet him in the passage after first-class. 

"Why didn't you turn up and get my breakfast, you idle young vagabond?"inquired the Sixth Form boy, half good-humouredly, and little guessingwhat was in the wind. "I'm not idle, " said Stephen. 

"Then what do you mean by not doing your work?"

"It's not my work. "

Loman opened his eyes in amazement, and stared at this bold young heroas if he had dropped from the clouds. "What!" he cried; "what do yousay?"

"It's not my work, " repeated Stephen, blushing, but very determined. 

"Look here, young fellow, " said Loman, when he was sure that he hadreally heard correctly, "don't you play any of your little games withme, or you'll be sorry for it. "

Stephen said nothing, and waited with a tremor for what was to follow. 

Loman was hardly a bully naturally. It was always easier for him to becivil than to be angry, especially with small boys, but this cooldefiance on the part of his fag was too much for any one's civility, andLoman began to be angry. 

"What do you mean by it?" he said, catching the boy by the arm. 

Stephen wrenched away his arm and stood dogged and silent. 

Nothing could have irritated Loman more. To be defied and resisted by ayoungster like this was an experience quite new to him. 

"Just come to my room, " said he, gripping his fag angrily by theshoulder. "We'll see who's master of us two!"

Stephen was forced to submit, and allowed himself to be dragged to thestudy. 

"Now!" said Loman shutting the door. 

"Now!" said Stephen, as boldly as he could, and wondering what on earthwas to become of him. 

"Are you going to do what you're told, or not?" demanded Loman. 

"Not what _you_ tell me, " replied Stephen, promptly, but not exactlycheerfully. 

"Oh!" said Loman, his face becoming crimson, "you're quite sure?"

"Yes, " said Stephen. 

"Then take that!" said Loman. 

It was a sharp box on the ears, suddenly administered. Stephen recoileda moment, but only a moment. He had expected something a good dealworse. If that was all, he would brave it out yet. 

"Don't you hit me!" he said, defiantly. 

Loman could not stand to be defied. His vanity was his weak point, andnothing offended his vanity so much as to find any one as determined ashimself. 

He took up a ruler, and in his passion flung it at the lucklessStephen's head. It struck him hard on the cheek. The blood flushed tothe boy's face as he stood a moment half-stunned and smarting with thepain, confronting his adversary. Then he rushed blindly in and flunghimself upon the bully. 

Of course it was no match. The small boy was at the mercy of the bigone. The latter was indeed taken aback for a moment at the fury of hisyoung assailant, impotent as it was, but that was all. He might havedefended himself with a single hand; he might have carried the boy underone arm out into the passage. But the evil spirit had been rousedwithin him, and that spirit knew no mercy. He struck out and fought hislittle foeman as if he had been one of his own size and strength. Forevery wild, feeble blow Stephen aimed, Loman aimed a hard and straightblow back. If Stephen wavered, Loman followed in as he would in aprofessional boxing match, and when at last the small boy gave up, exhausted, bleeding, and scarcely able to stand, his foe administered aparting blow, which, if he had struck no other, would have stamped himas a coward for ever. 

"Now!" exclaimed Loman, looking down on his victim, "will you do whatyou're told now, eh?"

It was a critical moment for poor Stephen. After all, was the "strike"worth all this hardship? A single word would have saved him; whereas ifhe again defied his enemy, it was all up with him. 

He did waver a moment; and lucky for him he did. For just then the dooropened, and Simon entered. Stephen saw his chance. Slipping to theopen door, he mustered up energy to cry as loud as he could, "No, Iwon't;" and with that made good his escape into the passage, as done upas a small boy well could be without being quite floored. 

A dozen eager friends were at hand to aid in stopping the bleeding oftheir hero's nose, and to apply raw steak to his black eye. The storyof his desperate encounter flew on the wings of fame all over theschool, and the glory and pride of the youngsters reached its climaxwhen, that afternoon, Stephen with his face all on one side, his eye abright green and yellow, and his under lip about twice its ordinarythickness, took his accustomed place in the arithmetic class of theFourth Junior. 

"Why, Greenfield, " exclaimed Mr Rastle, when in due time the younghero's turn came to stand up and answer a question, "what have you beendoing to yourself?"

"Nothing, sir, " remarked Stephen, mildly. 

"How did you come by that black eye?" asked the master. 

"Fighting, sir, " said Stephen, rather pompously. 

"Ah! what did you say forty-eight sixths was equal to?"

This was Mr Rastle's way. He very rarely hauled a boy over the coalsbefore the whole class. 

But after the lesson he beckoned Stephen into his study. 

"I'm afraid you got the worst of that fight, " he said. 

Stephen, who by this time knew Mr Rastle too well to be afraid of him, and too well, also, not to be quite frank with him, answered meekly, "The fellow was bigger than me. "

"I should guess that by the state of your face. Now, I don't want toknow what the fight was about, though I dare say you'd like to tell me[Stephen was boiling to tell him]. You small boys have such peculiarreasons for fighting, you know, no one can understand them. "

"But this was because--"

"Hush! Didn't I tell you I won't hear what it was about, sir!" said MrRastle, sharply. "Did you shake hands afterwards?"

"No, I didn't, _and I won't_!" exclaimed Stephen, forgetting, in hisindignation, to whom he was speaking. 

"Then, " said Mr Rastle, quietly, "write me out one hundred lines ofCaesar, Greenfield; and when you have recollected how to behaveyourself, we will talk more about this. You can go. "

Mr Rastle _was_ a queer man; he never took things as one expected. When Stephen expected him to be furious he was as mild as a lamb. Therewas no making him out. 

But this was certain: Stephen left his room a good deal more crestfallenthan he entered it. He had hoped to win Mr Rastle's sympathy andadmiration by an account of his grievances, and, instead of that, he wassent off in disgrace, with an imposition for being rude, and feelinganything but a hero. 

Even the applause of his friends failed to console him quite. Besides, his head ached badly, and the bruise on his cheek, which he had scarcelyfelt among his other wounds, now began to swell and grow painful. Altogether, he was in the wars. 

He was groaning over his imposition late that evening in the class-room, feeling in dreadful dumps, and wishing he had never come to SaintDominic's, when a hand laid on his shoulder made him start. He lookedup and saw Mr Rastle. 

"Greenfield, " said the master, kindly, "how much of your imposition haveyou done?"

"Seventy lines, sir. "

"Hum! That will do this time. You had better get to bed. "

"Oh, sir!" exclaimed Stephen, moved far more by Mr Rastle's kind tonethan by his letting him off thirty lines of the Caesar, "I'm so sorry Iwas rude to you. "

"Well, I was sorry, too; so we'll say no more about that. Why, what acrack you must have got on your cheek!"

"Yes, sir; that was the ruler did that. "

"The ruler! Then it wasn't a fair fight? Now don't begin telling meall about it. I dare say you were very heroic, and stood up againstterrible odds. But you've a very black eye and a very sore cheek now, so you had better get to bed as fast as you can. "

And certainly the pale, bruised, upturned face of the boy did not lookvery bright at that moment. 

Stephen Greenfield went off to bed that night in a perturbed state ofmind and body. He had stuck loyally to his promise not to fag, and hehad earned the universal admiration of his comrades. But, on the otherhand, he had been awfully knocked about, and, almost as bad, he had beeneffectively snubbed by Mr Rastle. He did not exactly know what tothink of it all. Had he done a fine deed or a foolish one? and whatought he to do to-morrow?

Like a sensible little man, he went sound asleep over these questions, and forgot all about them till the morrow. 

When he woke Stephen was like a giant refreshed. His eye was certainlya rather more brilliant yellow than the day before, and his cheek stillwore a dull red flush. But somehow he felt none of the misgivings anddumps that had oppressed him the night before. He was full of hopeagain and full of courage. The Guinea-pigs should never charge _him_with treachery and desertion, and what he had gone through already inthe "good cause" he would go through again. 

With this determination he dressed and went down to school. Loman, whose summons he expected every moment to hear, did not put him to thenecessity of a renewed struggle. From all quarters, too, encouragingreports came in from the various insurgents. Paul announced thatGreenfield senior took it "like a lamb"; Bramble recounted how his"nigger-driver, " as he was pleased to call Wren, had chased him twiceround the playground and over the top of the cricket-shed without beingable to capture him; and most of the others had exploits equally heroicto boast of. Things were looking up in the Fourth Junior. 

They spent a merry morning, these young rebels, wondering in whispersover their lessons what this and that Sixth or Fifth Form fellow haddone without them. With great glee they imagined Raleigh blacking hisown boots and Pembury boiling his own eggs, and the very idea of suchwonders quite frightened them. At that rate Saint Dominic's would cometo a standstill altogether. 

"Serve 'em right!" said Bramble; "they want a lesson. I wish I'd twofellows to strike against instead of one!"

"One's enough if he strikes you back, " said Stephen, with a rueful grin. 

Master Bramble evinced his sympathy by laughing aloud. "I say, you lookjust like a clown; doesn't he, Padger, with his eye all sorts of coloursand his cheek like a house on fire?"

"All very well, " said Stephen; "I wish you'd got my cheek. "

"Bramby's got cheek enough of his own, I guess, " put in Paul; whereatMaster Bramble fired up, and a quarrel became imminent. 

However, Stephen prevented it by calling back attention to his ownpicturesque countenance. "I don't mind the eye, that don't hurt; but Ican tell you, you fellows, my cheek's awful!"

"I always said you'd got an awful cheek of your own, young Greenfield, "said Bramble, laughing, as if _he_ was the inventor of the joke. Stephen glowered at him. 

"Well, you said so yourself, " put in Bramble, a little mildly, for sinceStephen's exploit yesterday that young hero had advanced a good deal inthe respect of his fellows. "But, I say, why don't you stick somelotion or something on it? It'll never get right if you don't, will it, Padger?"

Padger suggested that young Greenfield might possibly have to have hischeek cut off if he didn't look-out, and Paul said the sooner he"stashed his cheek" the better. 

The result of this friendly and witty conference was that Stephen tookit into his head to cure his cheek, and to that end applied for leavefrom Mr Rastle to go down that afternoon to Maltby to get somethingfrom the chemist. 

Mr Rastle gave him leave, and told him the best sort of lotion to askfor, and so, as soon as afternoon school was over, our young championsallied boldly forth on his errand. He felt very self-satisfied andforgiving to all the world as he walked along. There was no doubt aboutit, he was a hero. Every one seemed to take an interest in his blackeye and sore cheek, from Mr Rastle downwards. Very likely that fightof his with Loman yesterday would be recorded as long as Saint Dominic'sremained, as the event which saved the lower school from the tyranny ofthe upper!

His way to the chemist's lay past the turning up to the Cockchafer, andthe idea occurred to him to turn in on the way back and talk over theevent of the hour with Mr Cripps, whom he had not seen since thebagatelle-lesson a week ago. He was sure that good gentleman wouldsympathise with him, and most likely praise him; and in any case itwould be only civil, after promising to come and see him sometimes, tolook in. 

The only thing was that the Cockchafer, whatever one might say about it, was a public-house. The private door at the side hardly sufficed tosatisfy Stephen that he was not breaking rules by going in. He wouldnot have entered by the public door for worlds, and the thought didoccur to him, Was there very much difference after all between one doorand the other? However, he had not answered the question before hefound himself inside, shaking hands with Mr Cripps. 

That gentleman was of course delighted, and profuse in his gratitude tothe "young swell" for looking him up. He listened with profoundinterest and sympathy to his story, and made some very fierce remarksabout what he would do to "that there" Loman if he got hold of him. Then the subject of bagatelle happened to come up, and presently Stephenwas again delighting and astonishing the good gentleman by his skill inthat game. Then in due time it came out that the boy's mother hadbought him a bicycle, and he was going to learn in the holidays, aresolution Mr Cripps highly approved of, and was certain a clever youngfellow like him would learn in no time, which greatly pleased Stephen. 

Before parting, Mr Cripps insisted on lending his young friend alantern for his bicycle, when he rode it in the dark. It was aspecially good one, he said, and the young gentleman could easily returnit to him after the holidays, and so on. 

Altogether it was a delightful visit, and Stephen wondered more thanever how some of the fellows could think ill of Mr Cripps. 

"Oh, I say, " said the boy, at parting; "don't do what you said you wouldto Loman. I'm not afraid of him, you know. "

"I'd like to knock his ugly head off for him!" cried Mr Cripps, indignantly. 

"No, don't; please don't! I'd rather not. I dare say he's sorry forit. "

"I'll see he is!" growled Mr Cripps. 

"Besides, I've forgiven him, " said Stephen, "and oughtn't to have toldtales of him; so mind you don't do it, Mr Cripps, will you?"

"I'll see, " said Mr Cripps. "Good-bye for the present, younggentleman, and come again soon. "

And so, at peace with all the world, and particularly with himself, Stephen strolled back to Saint Dominic's, whistling merrily. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

THE DOCTOR AMONG THE GUINEA-PIGS. 

The _Dominican_ appeared once more before the holidays, and, as mighthave been expected (besides its usual articles at the expense of theSixth Form), made itself particularly merry over the rebellion of theGuinea-pigs and Tadpoles. 

Pembury was not the fellow to give quarter in his own particular line ofattack; and it must be confessed he had the proud satisfaction of makinghis unfortunate young victims smart. 

The "leading article" of the present number bore the suggestive title, "Thank Goodness!" and began as follows:

"Thank goodness, we are at last rid of the pest which has made SaintDominic's hideous for months past! At a single blow, with a single clapof the hands, we have sent Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles packing, and can nowbreathe pure air. No longer shall we have to put up with the plague. We are to be spared the disgust of seeing them, much more of talking tothem or hearing their hideous voices. No longer will our morning milkbe burned; no longer will our herrings be grilled to cinders; no longerwill our jam be purloined; no longer will our books and door-handles bemade abominable by contact with their filthy hands! Thank goodness!The Doctor never did a more patriotic deed than this! The small animalsare in future to be kept to their own quarters, and will be forbiddenthe liberty they have so long abused of mixing with their betters. Itis as well for all parties; and if any event could have brightened thelast days of this term, it is this--" and so on. 

Before this manifesto, a swarm of youngsters puzzled on the day ofpublication with no little bewilderment and fury. They had refused toallow any of their number to act as policeman, and had secretly beenmaking merry over the embarrassment of their late persecutors, andwondering whatever they would be able to say for their humiliated selvesin the _Dominican_--and lo! here was an article which, if it meantanything, meant that the heroic rebellion of the juniors was regardednot with dismay, but with positive triumph, by the very fellows it hadbeen intended to "squash!"

"What does it mean, Padger?" asked Bramble, who, never much of ascholar, was quite unable to master the meaning of this. 

"It's all a pack of crams, " replied Padger, not quite sure of the sensehimself. 

"It means, " said Stephen, "the fellows say they are jolly glad to getrid of us. "

"Eh?" yelled Bramble; "oh, I say, you fellows, come to the meeting!Jolly glad! They aren't a bit glad. "

"They say so, " said Paul. "Hold hard, Bramble, let's read the rest. "

It was all his friends could do to restrain the ardent Bramble fromsummoning a meeting on the spot to denounce the _Dominican_ and all its"crams. " But they managed to hold him steady while they read on. 

"The Doctor never did a more--pat--pat--ri--what do you call it?--patriotic deed than this!"

"Hullo, I say, look here!" cried Stephen, turning quite yellow; "theDoctor's in it, they say, Bramble. `The small animals'--that's you andPadger--`are to be kept in their own quarters. ' Whew! there's a go. "

"What!" shrieked Bramble, "who says so? The Doctor never said so. Ishall do what I choose. He never said so. Bother the Doctor! Who'scoming to the meeting, eh?"

But at that moment the grave form of Doctor Senior appeared in the midstof the group, just in time to hear Master Bramble's last complimentaryshout. 

The head master was in the most favourable times an object of terror tothe "guilty-conscienced youth" of the Fourth Junior, and the sight evenof his back often sufficed to quell their tumults. But here he stoodface to face with his unhappy victims, one of whom had just cried, "Bother the Doctor!" and all of whom had by word and gesture approved ofthe sentiment. Why would not the pavement yawn and swallow them? Andwhich of them would not at that moment have given a thousand pounds (ifhe had it) to be standing anywhere but where he was?

"Go to your class-room, " said the Doctor, sternly, eyeing the culpritsone by one, "and wait there for me. "

They slunk off meekly in obedience to this order, and waited the hour ofvengeance in blank dismay. 

Dr Senior did not keep them long in suspense, however. His slow, firmstep sounded presently down the corridor, and at the sound each wretchedculprit quaked with horror. 

Mr Rastle was in the room, and rose as usual to greet his chief; theboys also, as by custom bound, rose in their places. "Good morning, MrRastle, " said the Doctor. "Are your boys all here?"

"Yes, sir, we have just called over. "

"Ah! And what class comes on first?"

"English literature, sir. "

"Well, Mr Rastle, I will take the class this morning, please--insteadof you. "

A groan of horror passed through the ranks of the unhappy Guinea-pigsand Tadpoles at these words. Bramble looked wildly about him, if haplyhe might escape by a window or lie hid in a desk; while Stephen, Paul, Padger, and the other ringleaders, gave themselves up for lost, andmentally bade farewell to joy for ever. 

"What have the boys been reading?" inquired Dr Senior of Mr Rastle. 

"Grey's _Elegy_, sir. We have just got through it. "

"Oh! Grey's _Elegy_!" said the Doctor; and then, as if forgetting wherehe was, he began repeating to himself, --

 "The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea. "

"The first boy, --what can you tell me about the curfew?" The first boywas well up in the curfew, and rattled off a "full, true, and particularaccount" of that fine old English institution, much to everybody'ssatisfaction. The Doctor went on repeating two or three verses till hecame to the line, --

 "The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. "

"What does that line mean?" he asked of a boy on the second desk. 

The boy scarcely knew what it meant, but the boy below him did, and wasquite eager for the question to be passed on. It was passed on, and thegenius answered promptly, "Four old men. "

"Four rude old men, " shouted the next, seeing a chance. 

"Four rude old men who used to sleep in church, " cried another, ready tocap all the rest. 

The Doctor passed the question on no further; but gravely explained themeaning of the line, and then proceeded with his repetition in rather asadder voice. 

Now and again he stopped short and demanded an explanation of someobscure phrase, the answers to which were now correct, now hazy, nowbrilliantly original. On the whole it was not satisfactory; and whenfor a change the Doctor gave up reciting, and made the boys read, theeffect was still worse. One boy, quite a master of elocution, spoiltthe whole beauty of the lines, --

 "Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor, --"

by reading "animals" instead of "annals"; while another, of an equallyzoological turn of mind, announced that--

 "On some fond _beast_ the parting soul relies, --"

instead of "breast. "

But the climax of this "animal mania" was reached when the wretchedBramble, finally pitched upon to go on, in spite of all his efforts tohide, rendered the passage:--

 "Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, " etcetera, as--

"Happy some hairy-headed swine may say. "

This was a little too much. 

"That will do, sir, " said the Doctor, sternly. "That will do. What isyour name, sir?"

"Bramble, please, sir. "

"Well, Bramble, how long have you been in this class?"

"Two years, sir. "

"And have you been all the while on the bottom desk?"

"Yes, please, sir. "

"Sir, it displeases me. You are a dunce, sir. "

And then, to Bramble's utter despair and to the terror of all the otherunprofitable members of the class, the Doctor proceeded to catechisesharply the unhappy youth on his general knowledge of the subjectstaught during the term. 

As might be expected, the exhibition was a miserable one; Bramble wasfound wanting in every particular. The simplest questions could hardlycoax a correct answer out of him, whereas an ordinary inquiry washopelessly beyond his powers. He mixed up William the Conqueror andWilliam of Orange; he subtracted what ought to be multiplied, andfloundered about between conjunctions and prepositions in a sickeningway. The Doctor did not spare him. He went ruthlessly on--exposing theboy's ignorance, first in one thing, then another. Bramble stood andtrembled and perspired before him, and wished he was dead, but thequestions still came on. If he had answered a single thing correctly itwould have been a different matter, but he knew nothing. I believe hedid know what twice two was, but that was the one question the Doctordid not ask him. As to French, Latin, Grammar, and Euclid, the clock onthe wall knew as much of them as Bramble. It came to an end at last. 

"Come here, Bramble, " said the Doctor, gravely; "and come here, you, andyou, and you, " added he, pointing to Stephen and Paul and four or fiveothers of the party who had been reading the _Dominican_ that morning. 

The luckless youngsters obeyed, and when they stood in a row before thedreaded Doctor, the bottom form and half of the bottom form but one wereempty. 

"Now, you boys, " began the head master, very gravely, "I hadn't intendedto examine you to-day; but, from something I heard one of you say, Ifelt rather anxious to know how some of you are doing in your studies. These half-dozen boys I was particularly anxious to know of, because Iheard them talking to-day as if they were the most important boys in thewhole school. They _are_ the most important; for they are the mostignorant, and require, and in future will receive, the closest lookingafter. You, little boys, " said the Doctor, turning to the row ofabashed culprits, "take a word of warning from me. Do not be silly aswell as dunces. Do not think, as long as you know least of any one inthe school you can pretend to rule the school. I hope some of you havebeen led to see to-day you are not as clever as you would like to be. If you try, and work hard, and stick like men to your lessons, you willknow more than you do now; and when you do know more you will see thatthe best way for little boys to get on is not by giving themselvesridiculous airs, but by doing their duty steadily in class, and livingat peace with one another, and submitting quietly to the discipline ofthe school. Don't let me hear any more of this recent nonsense. You'llbe going off in a day or two for the holidays. Take my advice, andthink over what I have said; and next term let me see you in your rightminds, determined to work hard and do your part honestly for the creditof the good old school. Go to your places, boys. "

And so the Doctor's visitation came to an end. It made a very deepimpression on the youthful members of the Fourth Junior. Most of themfelt very much ashamed of themselves; and nearly every one felt hisveneration and admiration for the Doctor greatly heightened. Only a fewincorrigibles like Bramble professed to make light of the scene throughwhich they had just passed, and even he, it was evident, wasconsiderably chastened by his experience. 

That evening, after the first bed-bell, Dr Senior requested some of themasters to meet with him for a few minutes in his study. 

"Do any of you know, " asked the head master, "anything about thisnewspaper, the _Dominican_, which I see hanging outside the Fifth door?"

"I hear a great many boys talking about it, " said Mr Jellicott of theFifth. "It is the joint production of several of the boys in my form. "

"Indeed! A Fifth form paper!" said the Doctor. "Has any one perusedit?"

"I have, " said Mr Rastle. "It seems to me to be cleverly managed, though perhaps a little personal. "

"Ah, only natural with schoolboys, " said the Doctor. "I should like tosee it. Can you fetch it, Rastle?"

"It is nailed to the wall, " said Mr Rastle, smiling, "like Luther'smanifesto; but I can get one of the boys, I dare say, to unfasten it foryou. "

"No, do not do that, " said the Doctor. "If the mountain will not cometo Mahomet, you know, Mahomet and his disciples must go to the mountain, eh, Mr Harrison? I think we might venture out and peruse it where ithangs. " So half-stealthily, when the whole school was falling asleep, Dr Senior and his colleagues stepped out into the passage, and by theaid of a candle satisfied their curiosity as to the mysterious_Dominican_. 

A good deal of its humour was, of course, lost upon them, as they couldhardly be expected to understand the force of all the allusions itcontained. But they saw quite enough to enable them to gather thegeneral tenor of the paper; it amused and it concerned them. 

"It shows considerable ability on the part of its editor, " said theDoctor, after the masters had returned to his study, "but I rather fearits tone may give offence to some of the boys--in the Sixth forinstance. "

"I fancy there is a considerable amount of rivalry between the two headforms, " said Mr Harrison. 

"If there is, " said Mr Jellicott, "this newspaper is hardly likely todiminish it. "

"And it seems equally severe on the juniors, " said Mr Rastle. 

"Ah, " said the Doctor, smiling, "about that `strike. ' I can'tunderstand that. Really the politics of your little world, Rastle, aretoo intricate for any ordinary mortal. But I gather the small boys havea grievance against the big ones?"

"Yes, on the question of fagging, I believe. "

"Oh!" said the Doctor. "I hope that is not coming up. You know I'mheretic enough to believe that a certain amount of fagging does not doharm in a school like ours. "

"Certainly not, " said Mr Jellicott. "But these small boys are reallyvery amusing. They appear to be regularly organised, and some of themhave quite a martyr spirit about them. "

"As I can testify, " said Mr Rastle, proceeding to recount the case ofStephen Greenfield and his sore cheek. The Doctor listened to it all, half gravely, half amused, and presently said:

"Well, it is as well the holidays are coming. Things are sure to calmdown in them; and next term I dare say we shall be all the wiser for thelessons of this. Meanwhile I should like to see the editor of thispaper to-morrow. Who is he, Jellicott?"

"I believe it is Pembury. "

"Very well. Send him to me, will you, to-morrow at ten? Good-night. Thank you for your advice!"

Next morning the Doctor talked to Pembury about the _Dominican_. Hepraised the paper generally, and congratulated him on the success of hisefforts. But he took exception to its personal tone. 

"As long as you can keep on the broad round of humour and pure fun, nothing can please us more than to see you improving your time in amanner like this. But you must be very careful to avoid what will givepain or offence to any section of your schoolfellows. I was sorry tosee in the present number a good deal that might have been well omittedof that kind. Remember this, Pembury, I want all you boys, instead ofseparating off one set from another, and making divisions between classand class, to try to make common cause over the whole school, and uniteall the boys in common cause for the good of Saint Dominic's. Now yourpaper could help not a little in this direction. Indeed, if it does nothelp, it had better not be issued. There! I shall not refer to thematter again unless you give me cause. I do not want to discourage youin your undertaking, for it's really an excellent idea, and capitallycarried out. And _verbum sap_, you know, is quite sufficient. "

Anthony, with rather a long face, retired from the Doctor's presence. 

A few days later the school broke up for the summer holidays. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

A HOLIDAY ADVENTURE. 

When a big school like Saint Dominic's is gathered together within thecomparatively narrow compass of four walls, there _is_ some possibilityof ascertaining how it prospers, and what events are interesting it. But when the same school is scattered to the four winds of heaven duringthe holidays, it would require a hundred eyes and more to follow itsmovements. 

It would be impossible, for instance, at one and the same time toaccompany Raleigh and his sisters up Snowdon, and look on at Bramblecatching crabs on the rocks at Broadstairs; nor, while we follow DrSenior among the peaks and passes of Switzerland (and remark, by theway, what a nice quiet boy Tom Senior is, when he has only his fatherand his mother to tempt him into mischief) can we possibly expect toregard very attentively the doings of Simon, as he gapes about beforethe London shop-windows, and jerks off a score or more stanzas of his"Hart's Earnings, " which is now about a quarter done. 

So the reader must imagine how most of the boys spent their holidays, how they enjoyed them, and how they behaved themselves during theperiod, and be content to be told only about two groups ofholiday-makers, about whom, as they are destined to figure prettyconspicuously in next term's doings at Saint Dominic's, it will beinteresting to hear rather more particularly now. 

And the first group--if we can call a single person a "group"--is Loman. 

Loman began his holidays in anything but cheerful spirits. No one hadseemed particularly sorry to say good-bye to him at Saint Dominic's, anda good many had been unmistakably glad. And he had quite enough on hismind, apart from this, to make his home-coming far less joyous than itmight have been. It ought to have been the happiest event possible, forhe was coming home to parents who loved him, friends who were glad tosee him, and a home where every comfort and pleasure was within hisreach. Few boys, indeed, were more blessed than Loman with all theadvantages of a Christian and happy home; and few boys could have failedto return to such a home after a long absence without delight. But toLoman, these holidays, the surroundings of home afforded very littlepleasure. His mind was ill at ease. The burden of debt was upon him, and the burden of suspense. He had tried hard to assure himself thatall would come right--that he would certainly win the scholarship, andso wipe off the debt; but his confidence became less and lesscomfortable as time went on. 

He dared not tell his troubles to his father, for he feared hisupbraiding; and he would not confess them to his mother, for she, heknew, would tell all to his father. He still clung to the hope that allwould come right in the end; and then what would have been gained bytelling his parents all about it?

The one thing was hard work--and Loman came home determined to work. His parents saw him out of spirits, and were concerned. They did whatthey could to cheer him, but without much success. 

"Come, Edward, put away your books to-day, " his mother would say; "Iwant you to drive me over to Falkham in the pony-chaise. "

"I really can't, mother; I must work for the scholarship. "

"Nonsense, boy; what is a scholarship compared with your health?Besides, you'll work all the better if you take some exercise. "

But for a week nothing could tempt him out. Then, instead ofaccompanying his father or mother, he would take long solitary rides onhis own pony, brooding all the while over his troubles. 

One day, when in the course of one of these expeditions he had taken thedirection of Maltby--which was only fifteen miles distant from hishome--he became suddenly aware of an approaching dog-cart in the roadbefore him, and a familiar voice crying, "Why, if it ain't young SquireLoman, riding a bit of very tidy horseflesh too, as I'm a Dutchman!"

It was Cripps. What evil spirit could have brought him on the scenenow?

"Well, I never reckoned to see you now, " said he, in his usual jauntymanner. "Fact is, I was just trotting over to see _you_. I wanted totry what this here cob was made of, and, thinks I, I may as well killtwo birds with one stone, and look up my young squire while I'm aboutit. "

"Coming to see me!" exclaimed Loman, horrified. "I say, Cripps, youmustn't do that. My father would be very angry, you know. "

"Nice, that is! As if I wasn't as good company as any one else!"

"Oh! it's not that, " said Loman, fearing he had given offence. "What Imean is--"

"Oh, I know--about that there rod. Bless me! I won't let out on you, my beauty--leastways, if you come up to scratch. He'd like to hear thestory, though, the old gentleman, I fancy. Wouldn't he now?"

"I wouldn't have him know it for worlds. It'll be all right, Cripps, indeed it will about the money. "

Mr Cripps looked very benignant. 

"All right, young swell, I hope it will. Funny I feel such an interestin you, 'specially since that young greeny friend of yours put in a wordfor you. He's a real nice sort, he is--he owes you one, and nomistake. "

"What!" said Loman, in surprise; "who do you mean? Young Greenfield?"

"To be sure. Regular young chum of mine, he is. I know all about you, my master, and no mistake!"

"What--the young sneak? What has he been saying about me?"

"Eh!--what ain't he been saying! In course you didn't half murder him, eh? In course you ain't a good hand at cheatin' all round up at theschool! What? In course you ain't saying nice things agin me all overthe place--and in course some of us wouldn't like to see you get areg'lar good hiding, wouldn't we? Bless you, I knows all about it; butI'm mum, never fear!" Loman was furious. 

"The young liar!" he exclaimed. "I did owe him one; I'll pay him whenwe get back!"

"Hold hard, young gentleman, " said Cripps, coolly. "To be sure, heain't downright sweet on you; but I ain't a-going to have him smashed, mind, all to bits. Well, never mind that. I'll turn back with you, young gentleman, if I may. We're only three miles from Maltby, andmaybe you'll honour a poor chap like me by having a look in at theCockchafer. "

Loman did not know how to say "No, " much as he disliked and feared hishost. He returned with him to Maltby, and there spent an hour in theCockchafer. He was introduced to several of Mr Cripps's low friends, in whose society he found it easy enough to become low himself. Cripps, by a judicious mixture of flattery and sly threats, managed to keep theboy well in hand, and when at last he rose to go it was with a promiseto return again before the holidays were over--"to prevent Cripps havingthe trouble of calling on him, " as that virtuous gentleman significantlyput it. 

Loman kept his promise, and visited Maltby once or twice, becoming eachtime more familiar with Cripps and his low friends, who made a greatdeal of him, and flattered him on all possible occasions, so that theboy presently found himself, as he imagined, quite a young hero at theCockchafer. 

Meanwhile, naturally, his reading fell behindhand. His parents, onlytoo glad to see their boy taking more regular exercise, never suspectedor inquired as to the direction of his frequent solitary rides. To themhe seemed the same quiet, clever boy they fondly believed him. Littleguessed they of the troubles that filled his breast or the toils thatwere daily enwrapping him!

Thus Loman's holidays came to an end. The farewell was once more said, parents and son parted, and on the first day of an eventful term the boyfound himself once more within the walls of Saint Dominic's. 

Oliver and Stephen, meanwhile, had been spending a very different sortof holiday at home. There was high feast and revelry when the two boysreturned once more to the maternal roof. Stephen for once in a way hadthe satisfaction of finding himself a most unmistakable hero. He nevertired telling of his adventures and discoursing on the whole manner ofhis life since the day he left home for Saint Dominic's. To his sisterhe recounted in all the slang phraseology he had at his command, thefamous cricket matches in which he had borne a part; and she, though itwas exactly like Greek to her, drank in every word with interest. Andto his mother he narrated his various fights with Bramble, and theterrific adventures through which he had passed, till the good lady'shair nearly stood on end, and she began to think a public school was aterrible place to send a small boy to. 

Oliver, of course, had his stories to tell too, only in a more sobermanner. 

There was a great scene when, on the first day of the holidays, theelder brother produced his books and announced that he must study atleast two hours a day in prospect of the Nightingale Scholarshipexamination. But every one knew how much depended on his winning thatscholarship, and in a few years being able to go to the university, sothat the family gave in in the end, and Oliver was allowed his twohours' study, but not a second more, every day. Stephen, meanwhile, taught his sister round-arm bowling, and devoted himself mind and bodyto the bicycle. 

The two brothers, during these holidays, became very great cronies. Atschool Oliver had seen comparatively little of his young brother, butnow they were daily and hourly thrown together, the brotherly instinctsin each blossomed wonderfully, and a mutual attachment sprang up whichhad hardly been there before. 

It had been arranged, before breaking-up, that Oliver and Wraysfordshould spend the last week of the holiday together in rowing down theThames from Oxford to London. 

Great was Stephen's joy and pride when one morning, near the appointedtime, Oliver said to him, "Look here, Stee. How would you like to comewith Wray and me next week?"

"Like! wouldn't I rather!" shouted the small boy in ecstasy. "Thanks, Noll, old man! I say, it will be a spree. " And the youngster became soriotous over the prospect that his elder brother had to threaten not totake him at all, and give him a thrashing into the bargain, before hecould be reduced to order. 

They were to take a tent with them, and cooking utensils, so as to bequite independent of inns, and each voyager was to contribute his shareof provender. Quite a Robinson Crusoe business, even down to the desertisland, for on desert islands the boys had declared they intended everynight to take up their quarters, and, come hail, snow, or lightning, there to sleep under their waterproof tent. 

Mrs Greenfield didn't half like the idea, and became very pathetic onthe subject of ague and rheumatic fever. But the boys carried the dayby promising faithfully that they would catch neither malady. Thelooked-for day came at last, and to Oxford they went, where the familiarsight of Wraysford, in boating costume, at the railway station stillfurther elated their high spirits. The boat was ready. The tent, theprovender, the blankets, were snugly stowed away on board. The weatherwas fine, the river was charming, everything promised well; andpunctually that Monday afternoon the three adventurers loosed from theirmoorings and turned the nose of their boat towards London. 

I wish I could tell the reader all the events of that wonderful voyage:how they paddled down merrily with the stream; how they found theirdesert island covered with nettles, which they had to mow down withtheir oars; how the soup-kettle wouldn't act, and the stew-pan leaked;how grand the potted lobster tasted; how Stephen offered to make teawith muddy water, and how the paraffin oil of their lanterns leaked allover their plum-cake and sandwiches; how Stephen was sent up inland toforage, and came back with wonderful purchases of eggs and milk; howthey started off one day leaving their tent behind them, and had to rowback in a panic to recover it; how it rained one night, and a puddleformed on the roof of the tent, which presently grew so big that itoverflowed and gave Wraysford a shower-bath; how each morning they alltook headers into the stream, much to the alarm of the sleepy ducks; howthey now and then ran foul of a boat, and now and then were turned offtheir camping ground by an indignant keeper! It was glorious fun. Butit would take a volume to recount all that happened to them. 

They were coming near the end of their cruise. They had paddled downpast the magnificent woods of Cliveden, and under the pretty bridge ofMaidenhead; they had watched the boys bathing at "Athens, " and they hadrowed through the gloomy shadow of Windsor Castle and on past Eton. 

Here the river is broken by a string of islands, which in many partsmake the stream narrow; and the river being full of boats and barges, our three adventurers found themselves called upon to exercise more thanordinary precautions in keeping their course. This responsibilitybecame at last so irksome that Oliver said, "I say, can't we get out ofthis rabble anyhow? Why shouldn't we take the other side of theislands?"

"I don't know. It would be a good deal quieter. I wonder none of theboats do it. "

"Let's try, anyhow. We can't be far from the lock, and then the riverwill be wider. Take us up inside the next island, Stee, and mind youdon't foul any one while you're about it. "

Stephen did as he was bid. The stream was pretty strong just there, andthe two rowers had to pull pretty hard to get round without drifting onto the island. 

Once out of the main stream, they were delighted to find the courseclear. Indeed, they had the channel all to themselves. 

"What a jolly pace the stream is going at!" said Stephen; "why don't youdrift, you fellows, instead of pulling like that?"

"Good idea for you, young 'un, " said Wraysford, pulling in his oar. Oliver followed his example. 

"Keep a look-out ahead, " said he to Stephen, "and sing out if anything's coming. "

Stephen said, "All right, " but (careless pilot that he was) beganpulling on his socks and shoes, which he had dispensed with during themorning. 

Thus occupied, and the other two sitting with their backs to the prow, the unnatural pace at which the boat flew along did not for a moment ortwo become apparent. Suddenly, however, Wraysford started up. 

"Get out your oar, Noll--quick!"

"What's the row?" said Oliver, proceeding leisurely to obey the order. 

"The weir! Quick, man, quick, or we shall be on to it!"

They had indeed got into the race leading to the weir, and every momentthe stream, swelled by recent rains, rushed faster. 

"Pull your right--hard!" cried Wraysford, backing water while Oliverflew to his oar. 

There was just time, by a tremendous effort, to save themselves; butOliver's oar was caught under one of the seats, and before he couldextricate it the precious opportunity was lost. 

No one said a word. Stephen, with pale face, pulled his rudder string;and Wraysford, with his one oar, tried desperately to arrest theheadlong progress of the boat. 

There was a shout from the bank, and a nearer and louder one from thelock. They became conscious of a great half-open gate on their right, and a rush of footsteps beside them. Then, in far shorter time than ittakes to write it, the boat, side on to the weir, lurched and dashed fora moment in the troubled water, and the next instant turned over, andthe three boys were struggling in the water. 

In an ordinary current such an adventure would have been of littlemoment, for the boys could swim. But in a torrent like this it was anawful peril. The swift flood sweeps on and sucks under its prey withfearful force. To resist it is impossible--to escape being dashedagainst its stony bottom is almost as impossible. 

Mercifully for Oliver, he did escape this latter peril, and, being coolalways in the presence of danger, he offered no resistance to thestream, but struck out hard under the water for as long as his breathwould permit. 

When at last, exhausted and unable to swim farther, he rose to thesurface, he was in calm deep water many yards below the weir. Help wasat hand, or he could never have reached the bank. As it was, when atlast friendly arms did drag him ashore, he was too exhausted even toutter his brother's name. 

Where was Stephen? and where was Wraysford?

Wraysford had been more fortunate even than Oliver in his first capsize. He was swept over the weir, indeed, but into a side eddy which broughthim up violently against a projecting branch, to which he clung wildly. Here he would have been safe, and even able to help himself to shore. But at the moment when he began to draw himself up from the water on tothe branch, there was something--an arm cast wildly up--in the waterbeside him. In an instant Wraysford quitted his hold and plunged oncemore into the rapid. How, he knew not, but he just reached the haplessboy. It was too late to recover the friendly branch. All he could dowas to cling to Stephen and trust to reaching calm water safely. Many abruise the two received in that terrible passage, but the elder boynever once quitted his hold of the younger. 

At last--it seemed an age--calm water was reached, providentially nearthe bank. Still clinging to one another, they were pulled ashore, bruised, stunned, but safe. 

Thus ended this famous holiday cruise. The three boys kept their ownsecret, and talked little about the adventure, even to one another. 

In due time the holidays ended, and the Dominicans reassembled once morein their venerable Alma Mater. Need I say there were three within thosewalls who, whatever they were before, were now friends bound together bya bond the closest of all--a bond which had stood the test of life anddeath?

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

AN OLD FIRE RE-KINDLED. 

Saint Dominic's reassembled after the holidays in an amiable frame ofmind. 

The Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles, as the Doctor had prophesied, had cooleddown considerably in spirit during the period, and now returned quietlyto work just as if the mighty "strike" had never existed. Stephen'sregular fights with Bramble recommenced the very first day, so thateverything was quite like old times. 

Oliver found that the Fifth, all but one or two, had quite forgottentheir suspicions of his bravery which had spoiled the pleasure of hislast term, and there seemed every prospect of his getting through thiswith less risk to his quick temper than before. 

As for the Sixth, the Fifth had forgiven them all their offences, andwould have been quite prepared, had it been allowed, to live in peacewith their seniors, and forget all the dissensions of the Summer term. But it was not allowed, and an event which happened early in the termserved to revive all the old animosities between the two head classes. 

At Saint Dominic's, for reasons best known to the all-wise beings whopresided over its management, the principal examinations and "removes"of the year took place not, as in most schools, at the end of theMidsummer term, but at the beginning of the Autumn term, aboutMichaelmas; consequently now, with the examinations looming in thedistance, everybody who had anything to hope for from hard work settleddown to study like mad. Cricket was over for the year, and football hadnot begun. Except boating there was not much doing out of doors, andfor that reason the season was favourable for work. Studies, which usedto be bear-gardens now suddenly assumed an appearance of respectabilityand quiet. Books took the place of boxing-gloves, and pens offencing-sticks. The disorderly idlers who had been in the habit ofinvading at will the quarters of the industrious were now given tounderstand they must "kick-up their heels" elsewhere. _They_ might notwant to grind, but others did. 

The idlers of the Fifth, to whom this warning was addressed on everyhand, had nothing for it but to obey, and, feeling themselves greatlyill-used, to retire sadly, to some spot where "they could kick-up a rowto themselves. "

Casting about them for such a spot, it happened that Braddy and Rickettsone day lit almost by accident on an old empty study, which some yearssince had been a monitor's room, but was now empty and tenantless. 

It at once occurred to these two astute heroes that this would be amagnificent place for boxing-matches. In the other studies one wasalways banging against the corners of tables, or tripping over fenders, but here there was absolutely nothing, but four bare walls to interferewith anybody. 

They called in two more friends--Tom Senior and another--who declared itwas a splendid find, and the four thereupon took formal possession oftheir new territory, and inaugurated the event by a terrificeight-handed match. 

Nothing could have been more satisfactory. The room was well out of theway; the studious ones of the Fifth were spared all annoyance, and theriotous ones had an asylum to go to. No one was a bit the worse for themove; every one, on the contrary, found himself decidedly the better. 

"Go and kick-up a row in the monitor's room, " became quite a commonobjurgation 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 amongthe idlers. 

But, as ill-luck would have it, this delightful retreat happened to besituated immediately over the study occupied by Wren of the Sixth. Thatworthy hero, seated one afternoon over his books, was startled by aterrific noise, followed by a vibration, followed by the rattling of allhis tumblers in the cupboard, followed by a dull, heavy thud over hishead, which tempted him to believe either that an earthquake was inprogress, or that one of the chimney-stacks had fallen on to the roof. When, however, the noise was repeated, and with it were blended laughterand shouts of "Now then, let him have it!"

"Well parried!"

"Bravo, Bully!" and the like, Wren began to change his mind, and laiddown his pen. He walked up the stairs to the upper landing, where, atonce, the noise guided him to the old monitor's room. Then the truthdawned upon him. He stayed long enough to get a pretty clear idea ofwho the "new lodgers" were, and then prudently retired withoutattempting a parley single-handed. 

But next morning, when the festive rioters of the Fifth approached oncemore the scene of their revels, what was their amazement and rage tofind the door locked, and the following notice, on a piece of schoolpaper, affixed to the panel--"Monitor's room. This room is closed bydirection of the monitors. "

You might have knocked them over with a feather, so stupefied were theyby this announcement! They stared at the door, they stared at oneanother, and then they broke out into a tempest of rage. 

"The blackguards! what do they mean?" exclaimed Braddy, tearing down thepaper and crushing it up in his hands. 

"Monitor's room, indeed!" cried Ricketts. "_We'll_ let them see whoseroom it is!"

"Kick open the door, can't you?" said Tom Senior. 

They did kick open the door between them. The lock was a weak one, andsoon gave way. 

Once inside, the evicted ones indulged their triumph by an uproar ofmore than usual vehemence, longing that it might tempt into theirclutches the daring intruders who had presumed to interfere with theirpossession. No one came. They had their fling undisturbed. But beforethey quitted their stronghold one of their number, by diligentsearching, had found in the lock of a neighbouring study-door a keywhich would fit theirs. Repairing, therefore, the catch, damaged bytheir late forcible entry, they calmly locked the door behind them whenthey went, and affixed to it, in the identical place where the othernotice had hung, "Fifth Form. Private study. Not to be entered withoutpermission. "

Of course, the news of this interesting adventure soon spread, and for aday or two the diligent as well as the idle on either side looked onwith increasing interest for the issue of the contest. 

For a while the Fifth had the best of it. They defied the enemy to turnthem out, and procured and fixed an additional lock on the door. TheSixth threatened to report the matter to the Doctor, and summoned theinvaders for the last time to capitulate. The invaders laughed them toscorn, and protested the room belonged to them, and leave it they wouldnot for all the monitors in the world. The monitors retired, and theFifth enjoyed their triumph. 

But next day the Doctor abruptly entered the Fifth Form room, and said, "There is an unoccupied room at the end of the top landing, which someboys in this class have been making use of to the annoyance of otherboys. This room, please remember, is not to be entered in futurewithout my permission. "

Checkmate with a vengeance for the Fifth!

This event it was which, trivial in itself, re-kindled once more withredoubled heat the old animosity between the two head Forms at SaintDominic's. Although the original quarrel had been confined to onlyhalf-a-dozen individuals, it became now a party question of intenseinterest. The Sixth, who were the triumphant party, could afford totreat the matter lightly and smile over it, a demeanour which irritatedthe already enraged Fifth past description. The two Forms cut oneanother dead in the passages. The Fifth would gladly have provokedtheir rivals to blows, but, like sensible men, the Sixth kept the rightside of the law, and refused to have anything to do with the challengesdaily hurled at them. 

As might be expected, the affair did not long remain a secret from therest of the school. The Fourth Senior, as a body, stood up for theSixth, and the Third and Second, on the whole, sided with the Fifth. But when it came to the junior school--the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles--allother partisanship was thrown quite into the shade. 

The quarrel was one completely after their own hearts. It had begun ina row, it had gone on in a row, and, if it ever ended, it would end in arow. 

A meeting was summoned at the earliest opportunity to take the momentousmatter into consideration. 

"What I say, " said Bramble, "is, it's a jolly good job!"

"What's a jolly good job?" demanded Stephen, who, of course, was red-hotfor the Fifth. 

"Why, chucking them out! I'm glad to see it, ain't you, Padger?"

"They didn't chuck them out!" roared Paul; "they went and sneaked to theDoctor, that's what they did!"

"I don't care! I say it's a jolly good job! Those who say it's a jollygood job hold up--"

"Shut up your row!" cried Stephen; "you're always sticking yourself up. I say it's a beastly shame, and I hope the Fifth will let them know it!"

"You're a young idiot, that's what you are!" exclaimed Bramble in arage. "What business have you got at the meeting? Turn him out!"

"I'll turn _you_ out!" replied the undaunted Stephen; "I've as muchright here as you have. So there!"

"Turn him out, can't you?" roared Bramble. "Bah! who goes and swillsginger-beer down in a public-house in the town, eh?"

This most unexpected turn to the conversation startled Stephen. Heturned quite pale as he replied, "_I_ did, there! But I didn't go in atthe public door. And you've been sneaking!"

"No, I haven't. Padger told me, didn't you, Padger? Padger peepedthrough the door, and saw you. Oh, my eye! won't I kick-up a shineabout it! I'll let out on you, see if I don't. Bah, public-house boy!potboy, yah!"

Stephen's only answer to this was a book, accurately shied at the headof his enemy. 

The subsequent proceedings at the meeting were a trifle animated, butotherwise not interesting to the reader. The chief result was that theGuinea-pigs emerged as uncompromising champions for the Fifth, and theTadpoles equally strong for the Sixth, while Stephen felt decidedlyuncomfortable as to the consequences of Bramble's discovery of hissecret visits last term to the Cockchafer. 

Stephen had in a confidential moment during the holidays told Oliver ofthese visits, and of his intimacy with Mr Cripps. The elder brotherwas very angry and astonished when he heard of it. He set before theboy, in no measured terms, the risk he was running by breaking one ofthe rules of the school; and, more than that, he said Cripps was ablackguard, and demanded of Stephen a promise, there and then, that hewould never again enter the Cockchafer under any pretext whatever. Stephen, forced to submit, although not convinced that Cripps was such awicked man as his brother made out, promised, but reserved to himselfmentally the right to see Cripps at least once more at the Lock-House, there to return him the bicycle lantern, which it will be rememberedthat kind gentleman had lent the boy before the holidays. As to theCockchafer, he was thoroughly frightened at the thought of having beenseen there, and fully determined, even before Bramble's threat, neveragain to cross its threshold. After all, Stephen knew he had littleenough to fear from that small braggadocio; Bramble had neither the witnor the skill to use his discovery to any advantage. For a day or twohe followed his adversary up and down the passages with cries of"Potboy!" till everybody was sick of the sound, and felt heartily gladwhen, one fine afternoon, Stephen quietly deposited his adversary on hisback on the gravel of the playground. 

But to return to the feud between Fifth and Sixth. 

Things after a little seemed to quiet down once more. The exiledrioters, after a long and disheartening search, found rest for the solesof their feet in Tom Senior's study, which, though not nearly soconvenient, afforded them asylum during their pugilistic encounters. 

The studious ones settled down once more to their work, and the nearapproach of the examinations presently absorbed all their attention. 

The struggle for the Nightingale Scholarship naturally was regarded withthe most intense interest--not because it was the most importantexamination of the year: it was not. Not because it was worth 50 poundsa year for three years. That to most of the school was a minorconsideration. It was as nothing to the fact that of the threecandidates for the scholarship one was a Sixth Form boy and two Fifth. If only one of the latter could come out first, the Fifth and theirpartisans, all the school over, felt that the insult of the past monthwould be wiped out, and the glory of the Form avenged for ever. And itmust be confessed that the Sixth, however much they professed to ignorethe rivalry of their juniors, were equally anxious for their own man, and of late Loman had been working hard. He had worked, so it wasreported, during the holidays, and now, ever since term had begun, hehad remained more or less secluded in his study, or else, with a bookunder his arm, had taken walks outside. 

Of course, the Sixth Form boy would win! Who ever heard of a Fifth boybeating a Sixth? And yet, in Oliver and Wraysford, the Fifth, every oneadmitted, had two strong men. They would at least make a hard fight forthe prize. The Sixth only hoped they would not run their man _too_close, and so make the glory of his certain victory at all doubtful. 

Loman was not a favourite even with his own class-fellows, but theycould forgive anything now, provided he made sure of the Nightingale. 

"He'll be all right!" said Callonby to Wren one day, when the twohappened to hit on the topic of the hour; "he's a great deal steadierthan he was last term. "

"I wish he'd read indoors, then, and not be everlastingly trotting outwith his books. "

"Oh! I don't know; it's much jollier reading out of doors, if you cando it. "

"As long as he _does_ read. Well, it will be a regular sell if he comesto grief; the Fifth will be intolerable. "

"They're not far short of that now. Hullo!" This exclamation wasprovoked by the sight of Loman in the playground under their window. Hewas returning from one of his studious rambles, with his book under hisarm, slowly making for the school. 

There was nothing in this to astonish the two boys as they looked down. What did astonish them was that he was walking unsteadily, with a queer, stupid look on his face, utterly unlike anything his schoolfellows hadever seen there before. They watched him cross the playground and enterthe school-house. Then Wren said, gravely, "It's all up with theNightingale, at that rate. "

"Looks like it, " said the other, and walked away. Loman was returningfrom one of his now frequent visits to the Cockchafer. 

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

A CRISIS. 

The eventful day, which at the beginning of the term had seemed an ageaway, slowly but surely drew near. 

This was Saturday. On Monday the examination would be over, and in aweek the competitors would know their fates!

Some of my readers may know the queer sensation one sometimes gets atthe approach of a long-looked-for and hardly-worked-for examination. For a week or so you have quietly been counting up what you _do_ know. Now there breaks upon you an awful picture of what you do _not_ know, and with it the absolute conviction that what you do not know is exactlywhat you ought to know, and what you do know is no use at all. It istoo late to do anything. You cannot get up in a day what it would takeyou a fortnight to go through. And it is not much good, now you aresure it is useless, to go over again what you have done. You begin tofeel a sort of despair, which becomes, as the hours close in, positivelyreckless. What do you care if you do miss? What's the use of botheringany more about it? It cannot be helped; why make yourself miserable?Only, you would give worlds to have the thing all over. Such at leastwere the sensations which stirred in the breasts of Oliver Greenfieldand Horace Wraysford as they sat somewhat dejectedly over their books inOliver's study that Saturday afternoon. 

They had both worked hard since the holidays, generally together, neither concealing from the other what he had read or what he intendedto read. Very bad rivals were these two, for though each was intent onwinning the scholarship, each felt he would not break his heart if theother beat him, and that, as every one knows, is a most unheard-of pieceof toleration. Now, however, each felt he had had enough of it. Oliverin particular was very despondent. He slammed up his books suddenly, and said, "I give it up; it's not a bit of use going on!"

Wraysford pushed back his chair slowly, and said, not very cheeringly, "Upon my word I think you're right, Noll. "

"I've a good mind, " said Oliver, looking very morose, "to scratch, andleave you and Loman to fight it out. "

"Don't be a jackass, Noll, " replied Wraysford, half laughing. "That_would_ be a sensible thing to do!"

"All very well for you to laugh, " said Oliver, his brow clouding. "Youknow you are well up and are going to win. "

"I'm no better up than you are, " said the other. 

"You know you're going to win, " repeated Oliver. 

"I only wish I did, " said Wraysford, with a sigh. 

"Why, " pursued Oliver, evidently bent on a melancholy tack, "I assureyou, Wray, I've forgotten half even of what I did know. I was goingover some of those brutal Roman History dates in bed last night, forinstance, and I positively couldn't remember one. Then I tried the mapof Greece, but I was still worse there; I couldn't remember where onesingle place was except Athens and Corinth, and I'm sure I used to bepretty well up in that. "

"I expect you were half asleep at the time, " suggested his friend. 

"No, I wasn't; I couldn't sleep a wink. I say, Wray, _wouldn't_ it bejolly if we only knew now what the questions are going to be on Monday?"

"Why don't you go and ask the Doctor?" said Wraysford, laughing; "he'dbe delighted to tell you. "

"What a humbug you are, Wray! I say, suppose we shut up work now andhave a turn on the river. I'm certain it will do us more good thancracking our skulls here. "

"Just what I had been thinking. I'm game, and it can't make muchdifference. "

"I suppose Loman is grinding up to the last?"

"I suppose so; I was almost in hopes he wouldn't keep it up. "

"Never mind, it will all be over on Monday; that's a comfort! Comealong, old man. Suppose we get young Stee to cox us up to the lock andback. "

Hue and cry was forthwith made for Stephen, but he was not to be found. He was out, Paul said; at the post, or somewhere. 

"Oh, all right; you can come and cox us yourself, youngster, " saidWraysford. 

"Cox you!" exclaimed Paul; "why, ain't the Nightingale exam coming on, then, on Monday?"

"Of course it is!"

"And you two going out to row! I say, the Sixth will win it if youdon't look-out!" said Paul, in a very concerned voice. 

It was quite a revelation to the two boys to discover how great was theinterest taken by outsiders in the coming event. Paul was in a greatstate of alarm, and was actually inclined to refuse to aid and abet whathe imagined to be a wicked waste of precious opportunity, until, puttinghis head into Loman's study, he found that the Sixth Form fellow wasalso not at work. 

When Oliver and Wraysford appeared in boating flannels in the playgroundthey created as much sensation as if they had been ghosts. 

"You don't mean to say you're going out, you fellows?" exclaimedRicketts, one of the idle ones of the Fifth. 

"Yes, I do, " said Wraysford. 

"But the Nightingale, I say?"

"That's not till Monday. "

"I know; but aren't you grinding for it? I say, don't let them beatyou! Hadn't you better work instead of going out?"

Ricketts, by the way, had not done a stroke of work that he couldpossibly help all the term!

All the other Fifth Form fellows they encountered echoed more or lessanxiously the same advice. But the two friends were obdurate. Threats, promises, entreaties, would not put them off their row up the river, andthey went on their way, leaving behind them an unusual gloom on thespirits of their dearest friends. 

The only person who seemed really glad to see them leaving their workwas Bramble. He, with his friend Padger, and a few otherirreconcilables, were just returning from a rat-catching expedition, andthe sight of the Fifth Form heroes in boating costume filled them withjoy. 

"Hullo--my eye--hurrah!" shouted Bramble, taking in the situation in amoment. "There they go! I hope they get drowned; don't you, Padger?"

Padger was understood to assent to this benevolent aspiration. 

"Go it. _You'll_ get the Nightingale! I thought you would! Hope youget drowned, do you hear! Hurrah for the Sixth!"

At this juncture Master Paul gave chase, and for a few moments Brambleand his friends were too much engaged to speak; but at last, when thechase was over, and further reprisals were out of the question, the heroof the Tadpoles summoned up all his remaining powers to yell:

"Yah boo, Nightingale! Hope you get drowned! Yah!" after which he wenthis way. 

The two friends paddled quietly up the river. They talked very little, but both felt relieved to be away from their books. As they went ontheir spirits rose, greatly to Paul's displeasure. That younggentleman, immoderately jealous for the glory of the Fifth, was contentas long as the two rowers remained grave and serious; he could then makehimself believe they were engaged in mental exercises favourable toMonday's examination. But as soon as they began to whistle, and chaffhim and one another, and talk of their holiday adventures, Paul becamedispleased, for they could not possibly do this and be inwardlypreparing for the examination at the same time. 

However, he had to submit as best he could, and gave all his attentionto steering them carefully, so that it should be no fault of his, at anyrate, if they were prevented from showing up on the critical day. 

"This old Shar isn't half such a jolly river as the Thames, is it, Wray?"

"Rather not!" replied Wraysford, resting on his oar; "and yet it'spretty enough in parts. "

"Oh, up at the weir?--yes. But I'm out of love with weirs at present. I shudder every time I think of that one up the Thames. "

"It wasn't pleasant, certainly, " said Wraysford. 

"Pleasant! Old man, if you hadn't been there it would have been a gooddeal worse than unpleasant. Poor Stee!"

"Pull your left, Greenfield senior, or you'll be into the bank!" sungout Paul. 

They paddled on again until Gusset Lock came in sight. There were veryfew boats about; the season was, in fact, at an end, and the river, which a month or two ago had generally swarmed with boats just at thispart on Saturday afternoons, looked quite deserted. 

"Shall we go through the lock or turn round?" inquired Paul. 

"May as well turn, eh, Wray?"

Paul was about to obey the order and turn the boat, when, casting hiseyes on the bank, he started suddenly to his feet and exclaimed, pointing towards the lock-house, "Hullo! I say, there's something upthere!"

The two others looked round; something more lively than usual wasundoubtedly taking place at old Mr Cripps's residence, to judge by theshouts and laughter which proceeded from the group of people assemblednear the door. 

From where they were the boys in the boat could not see what the natureof the excitement was, and therefore paddled on with a view to satisfytheir curiosity. 

As they came up to the lock Paul suddenly exclaimed, "That's youngGreenfield!"

"What!" said Oliver--"Stephen?"

"Yes, and--what _on earth_ are they doing to him?"

The boat being low down under the bank, it was impossible to see whatwas going on on the tow-path. Oliver, however, having once heardStephen's name, ordered Paul to put them into the opposite bank quick, where they could land. 

While this was being done a shriek from the bank sent the blood suddenlyto the faces of the two friends. It was Stephen! They dashed ashore, and in a moment were across the lock and on the spot. The spectaclewhich met their eyes as they came up was a strange one. The centralfigure was the luckless Stephen, in the clutches of three or fourdisreputable fellows, one of whom was Cripps the younger, who, with loudlaughter at the boy's struggles and brutal unconcern at his terror, werehalf dragging, half carrying him towards the water's edge. 

Beside them stood Loman, flushed, excited, and laughing loudly. PoorStephen, very unlike himself, appeared to be utterly cowed andterrified, and uttered shriek upon shriek as his persecutors dragged himalong. 

"Oh, don't! Please, Cripps! Don't let them, Loman--don't let themdrown me!" he shouted. 

A laugh was the only answer. 

It was at this moment, and just when, to all appearances, the boy wasabout to be thrown into the water, that Oliver and Wraysford appeared onthe scene. 

Their appearance was so sudden and unexpected that the fellows, eventhough they did not know who the two boys were, were momentarily takenaback and dropped their prey. 

With a bound Oliver sprang furiously on Cripps, who happened to benearest him, and before that respectable gentleman knew where he was, had dealt him a blow which sent him staggering back in the utmost alarmand astonishment. Wraysford, no less prompt, tackled one of the otherblackguards, while Stephen, now released, and cured of his momentaryterror by the appearance of the rescuers, did his share manfully withone of the others. 

The contest was short and sharp. A pair of well-trained athleticschoolboys, with a plucky youngster to help them, are a match any dayfor twice the number of half-tipsy cads. In a minute or two the fieldwas clear of all but Cripps, who appeared, after his short experience, by no means disposed to continue the contest single-handed. As forLoman, he had disappeared. 

"What is all this?" demanded Oliver, when at last, breathless and palewith excitement, he could find words. 

"Oh, Noll!" cried Stephen, "I'll tell you all about it. But let's getaway from here. "

"No, I won't go!" shouted Oliver--"not till I know what it all means. You fellow!" added he, walking up to Cripps, "you'd better speak or I'llthrash you!"

Mr Cripps, who had had time to recover somewhat from his firstsurprise, looked a little inclined to defy his young antagonist, but, thinking better of it, suddenly assumed his usual impudent swagger as hereplied, with a laugh, "Come, I say, you _do_ do it well, you do! Itwas a joke--just a joke, young gentleman. You've no occasion to flurryyourself; we wouldn't have hurt a hair of the young gentleman's head. Ask Mr Loman. "

"Where's Loman?" demanded Oliver. "Gone, " said Stephen. "But I say, Noll, do come away. I'll tell you all about it. Do come. "

Cripps laughed. "Don't you swallow all that young swell tells you. He's a nice boy, he is, but--well, he'd better mind what he says, that'sall!"

"Do come away!" once more entreated Stephen. 

"Yes, do come away, " laughed Cripps, mimicking the boy's tones. "When Icalls up at the school I'll let them all know what a nice young prig heis, coming down and drinking at my public-house and then turning roundon me. Never fear! _I'll_ let them know, my beauties! I'll have atalk with your Doctor and open his eyes for him. Good-bye, you sneakingyoung--"

"Look here!" said Wraysford, quietly walking up to the blackguard in themidst of this discourse, "if you don't stop instantly you'll be sorryfor it. "

Cripps stared a moment at the speaker, and at the first he held out. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel into the cottage, leaving the three boys standing in undisputed possession of thetow-path. 

"Come on, how, old man!" said Wraysford; "we can't do any good bystaying here. "

Oliver looked disposed to resist, and cast a glance at the cottage doorby which Cripps had just vanished. But he let himself be persuadedeventually, and turned gloomily towards the boat. Here Paul, who hadbeen a witness of the _fracas_ on the tow-path, was waiting, ready tosteer home, and bursting with curiosity to hear all Stephen had to say. 

Greatly to his disgust, Oliver said, peremptorily, "You'll have to walkhome, Paul; Stephen will steer. "

"Why, you said I might steer. "

Oliver was in no humour for an argument, so he gave Paul a light box onhis ears and advised him to go home quietly unless he wanted athrashing, and not say a word to any one about what had occurred. 

Paul had nothing for it but sulkily to obey, and walk back. At last theothers got on board and put off homeward. 

"Now, " said Oliver, presently, resting on his oar and bending forwardtowards Stephen. 

"Oh, Noll!" began that unhappy youngster, "I am so very, very sorry! itwas all--"

"None of that, " angrily interrupted the elder brother. "Just tell mehow it came about. "

Stephen, quite cowed by his brother's angry manner, told his storyshortly and hurriedly. 

"Why, " he said, "you know I promised you never to go to the Cockchaferagain, and I didn't, but I thought I ought to see Cripps and give himback the bicycle-lamp. "

"Young muff!" ejaculated his brother. 

"So, " pursued Stephen, still more falteringly, "I thought I'd come upthis afternoon. "

"Well, go on, can't you?" said Oliver, losing his temper at the poorboy's evident uneasiness. 

"Cripps asked me into the cottage, and there were some fellows there, smoking and drinking and playing cards. "

"Was Loman one of them?" put in Wraysford. 

"I think so, " said poor Stephen, who had evidently started his story inthe hope of keeping Loman's name quiet. 

"_Think_ so, you young cad!" cried Oliver. "Why can't you tell thetruth straight out? Was he there or not?"

"Yes, he was. I did mean to tell the truth, Noll, really, only--onlythere's no need to get Loman in a row. "

"Go on, " said Oliver. 

"They made fun of me because I wouldn't smoke and play with them. Youknow I promised mother not to play cards, Noll. I didn't mind that, though, but when I wanted to go away they--that is, Cripps--wouldn't letme. I tried to get away, but he stopped me, and they said they'd makeme play. "

"Who said? Did Loman?" inquired Oliver, again. "Why--yes, " saidStephen falteringly, "he and the rest. They held me down in a chair, and made me take hold of the cards, and one of them opened my mouth andshouted beastly words down into it--ugh!"

"Was that Loman?"

"No, " said Stephen, relieved to be able to deny it. 

"What did he do?" demanded Oliver. 

"They all--"

"What did Loman do, I say?" again asked Oliver. 

It was no use trying to keep back anything. 

"He pulled my ears, but not very hard. Really I expect it was only fun, Noll. " This was said quite beseechingly. "I said I thought they werevery wicked to be doing what they did; but they only laughed at that, and called me a prig. "

"Much better if you'd kept what you thought to yourself, " saidWraysford. "Well?"

"Oh, then they did a lot of things to rile me, and knocked me aboutbecause I wouldn't drink their stuff, and they swore too. "

"Did Loman swear?"

"They all swore, I think, " said Stephen; "and then, you know, when Iwouldn't do what they wanted they said they'd throw me in the river, andthen you fellows turned up. "

"Did Loman tell them to throw you in the river?" said Oliver, whose browhad been growing darker and darker. 

"Oh, no, " exclaimed Stephen, "he didn't, really! I think he was sorry. "

"Did he try to prevent it, then?" asked Oliver. 

"Well, no; I didn't hear him say--" faltered Stephen; but Oliver shuthim up, and turning to Wraysford said, "Wray, I shall thrash Loman. "

"All serene, " replied Wraysford; "you'd better have it out to-night. "

"Oh, Noll!" cried Stephen in great distress; "don't fight, please. Itwas all my fault, for--"

"Shut up, Stee, " said Oliver, quietly, but not unkindly. Then turningto Wraysford, he added, "After tea, then, Wray, in the gymnasium. "

"Right you are!" replied his friend. 

And then, without another word, the three rowed back to Saint Dominic's. 

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

THE FIGHT THAT DID NOT COME OFF. 

On reaching Saint Dominic's the three boys discovered that the news oftheir afternoon's adventure had arrived there before them. Paul, despite his promise of secrecy, had not been able to refrain fromconfiding to one or two bosom friends, in strict confidence, his versionof the _fracas_ on the tow-path. Of course the story became frightfullydistorted in its progress from mouth to mouth, but it flew like wildfirethrough Saint Dominic's all the same. 

When Oliver and his friend with Stephen entered the school-house, groupsof inquisitive boys eyed them askance and whispered as they went by. Itseemed quite a disappointment to not a few that the three did not appearcovered with blood, or as pale as sheets, or with broken limbs. No oneknew exactly what had happened, but every one knew something hadhappened, and it would have been much more satisfactory if the heroes ofthe hour had had something to show for it. 

Oliver was in no mood for gratifying the curiosity of anybody, andstalked off to his study in gloomy silence, attended by his chum and theanxious Stephen. 

A hurried council of war ensued. 

"I must go and challenge Loman at once, " said Oliver. 

"Let me go, " said Wraysford. 

"Why?"

"Because most likely if you go you'll have a row in his study. Muchbetter wait and have it out decently in the gymnasium. I'll go and tellhim. "

Oliver yielded to this advice. 

"Look sharp, old man, " he said, "that's all. "

Wraysford went off on his mission without delay. 

He found Loman in his study with his books before him. 

"Greenfield senior wants me to say he'll meet you after tea in thegymnasium if you'll come there, " said the ambassador. 

Loman, who was evidently prepared for the scene, looked up angrily as hereplied, "Fight me? What does he want to fight me for, I should like toknow!"

"You know as well as I do, " said Wraysford. 

"I know nothing about it, and what's more I'll have nothing to do withthe fellow. Tell him that. "

"Then you won't fight?" exclaimed the astounded Wraysford. 

"No, I won't to please him. When I've nothing better to do I'll do it;"and with the words his face flushed crimson as he bent it once more overhis book. 

Wraysford was quite taken aback by this unexpected answer, and hesitatedbefore he turned to go. 

"Do you hear what I say?" said Loman. "Don't you see I'm working?"

"Look here, " said Wraysford, "I didn't think you were a coward. "

"Think what you like. Do you suppose I care? If Greenfield wants sobadly to fight me, why didn't he do it last term when I gave him thechance? Get out of my study, and tell him I'll have nothing to do withhim or any of your stuck-up Fifth!"

Wraysford stared hard at the speaker and then said, "I suppose you'reafraid to fight _me_, either?"

"If you don't clear out of my study I'll report you to the Doctor, that's what I'll do, " growled Loman. 

There was no use staying, evidently; and Wraysford returned dejectedlyto Oliver. 

"He won't fight, " he announced. 

"Not fight!" exclaimed Oliver. "Why ever not?"

"I suppose because he's a coward. He says because he doesn't choose. "

"But he _must_ fight, Wray. We must make him!"

"You can't. I called him a coward, and that wouldn't make him. You'llhave to give it up this time, Noll. "

But Oliver wouldn't hear of giving it up so easily. He got up andrushed to Loman's study himself. But it was locked. He knocked, no oneanswered. He called through the keyhole, but there was no reply. Evidently Loman did not intend to fight, and Oliver returned crestfallenand disappointed to his study. 

"It's no go, " he said, in answer to his friend's inquiry. 

"Oh, well, never mind, " said Wraysford. "Even if you could have fought, I dare say it wouldn't have done much good, for he's such a sullenbeggar there would have been no making it up afterwards. If I were youI wouldn't bother any more about it. I'll let all the fellows know herefused to fight you!"

"What's the use of that?" said Oliver. "Why tell them anything aboutit?"

But tell them or not tell them, the fellows knew already. It had oozedout very soon that a fight was coming off, and instantly the wholeschool was in excitement. For, however little some of them cared aboutthe personal quarrel between Oliver and Loman, a fight between Fifth andSixth was too great an event to be passed by unheeded. 

The Fifth were delighted. They knew their man could beat Loman any dayof the week, and however much they had once doubted his courage, now itwas known he was the challenger every misgiving on that score was doneaway with. 

"I tell you, " said Ricketts to a small knot of his class-fellows, "hecould finish him up easily in one round. "

"Yes, " chimed in another knowing one, "Loman's got such a wretched knackof keeping up his left elbow, that he's not a chance. A child could getin under his guard, I tell you; and as for wind, he's no more wind thanan old paper bag!"

"I wish myself it was a closer thing, as long as our man won, " said TomSenior, with a tinge of melancholy in his voice. "It will be such amiserably hollow affair I'm afraid. "

"I'm sorry it's not Wren, or Callonby, or one of them, " said another ofthese amiable warriors; "there'd be some pleasure in chawing them up. "

At this moment up came Pembury, with a very long face. 

"It's no fight after all, you fellows, " said he. "Loman funks it!"

"What! he won't fight!" almost shrieked the rest. "It must be wrong. "

"Oh, all right, if it's wrong, " snarled Pembury. "I tell you there's nofight; you can believe it or not as you like, " and off he hobbled, inunusual ill-humour. 

This was a sad blow to the Fifth. They saw no comfort anywhere. Theyflocked to Oliver's study, but he was not there, and Wraysford's doorwas locked. The news, however, was confirmed by other reporters, and ingreat grief and profound melancholy the Fifth swallowed their tea, andwondered if any set of fellows were so unlucky as they. 

But their rage was as nothing to that of the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles. 

These amiable young animals had of course sniffed the battle from afarvery early in the evening, and, as usual, rushed into all sorts ofextremes of enthusiasm on the subject. A fight! A fight between Fifthand Sixth! A fight between Greenfield senior and a monitor! Oh, it wastoo good to be true, a perfect luxury; something to be grateful for, andno mistake!

Of course a meeting was forthwith assembled to gloat over the auspiciousevent. 

Bramble vehemently expressed his conviction that the Sixth Form manwould eat up his opponent, and went the length of offering to cut offhis own head and Padger's if it turned out otherwise. 

Paul and his friends, on the other hand, as vehemently backed the Fifthfellow. 

"When's it to come off, I say?" demanded Bramble. 

"To-night, I should say, or first thing in the morning. "

"Sure to be to-night. My eye! won't Greenfield senior look black andblue after it!"

"No, he won't, " cried Paul. 

"Turn him out!" shouted Bramble. "No one wants you here; do we, Padger?Get yourself out of the meeting, you sneak!"

"Get yourself out!" retorted Paul. 

The usual lively scene ensued, at the end of which the door suddenlyopened, and a boy entered. 

"Look sharp, " he cried: "it's half over by now. They were--"

But what the end of his sentence was to be, history recordeth not. Witha simultaneous yell the youngsters rushed headlong from the room, downthe passages, out at the door, across the quadrangle, and into thegymnasium. Alas! it was empty. Only the gaunt parallel bars, and idleswings, and melancholy vaulting-horse. 

With a yelp of anger the pack cried back, and made once more for theschool-house. At the door they met Stephen. 

"Where's the fight, young Greenfield?" shouted Bramble. 

"Nowhere, " replied Stephen. 

"What! not coming off?" shrieked the youngsters. 

"No, " laconically answered Stephen. 

"Has your brother funked it again?" demanded Bramble, in his usualconciliatory way. 

"He never funked, you young cad!" retorted the young brother. 

"Yes, he did, didn't he, Padger? That time, you know, last term. But Isay, Greenfield junior, why ever's the fight not coming off?"

"Loman won't fight, that's why, " said Stephen; and then, having hadquite enough of catechising, turned on his heel and left the indignantyoungsters to continue their rush back to the Fourth Junior, there tospend an hour or so in denouncing the caddishness of everybody and tomake up by their own conflicts for the shortcomings of others. 

Oliver meanwhile had settled down as best he could once more to work, and tried to forget all about the afternoon's adventures. But for along time they haunted him and disturbed him. Gradually, however, hefound himself cooling down under the influence of Greek accents andRoman history. 

"After all, " said he to Wraysford, "if the fellow is a coward why need Ibother? Only I should have rather liked to thrash him for what he didto Stee. "

"Never mind--thrash him over the Nightingale instead. "

The mention of the Nightingale, however, did not serve to heightenOliver's spirits at all. 

He turned dejectedly to his books, but soon gave up further study. 

"You can go on if you like, " said he to Wraysford. "I can't. It's nouse. I think I shall go to bed. "

"What! It's not quite nine yet. "

"Is that all it is? Never mind; good-night, old man. I'm glad it willall be over on Monday. "

Before Oliver went to bed he had a talk with Stephen in his study. Hesucceeded in putting pretty vividly before his young brother theposition in which he had placed himself by going down to thepublic-house and associating with a man like Cripps. 

"What I advise you is, to make a clean breast of it to the Doctor atonce. If he hears of it any other way, you're done for. " Olivercertainly had an uncompromising way of putting things. 

"Oh, Noll, I never could! I know I couldn't. I say, will you? You cantell him anything you like. "

Oliver hesitated a moment, and then said, "All serene; I'll do it. Mind, I must tell him everything, though. "

"Oh, yes! I say, do you think I'll be expelled?"

"I hope not. There's no knowing, though. "

"Oh, Noll! what _shall_ I do?"

"It's your only chance, I tell you. If Cripps comes up and talks aboutit, or Loman tells, you're sure to be expelled. "

"Well, " said Stephen, with a gulp, "I suppose you'd better tell him, Noll. Need I come too?"

"No, better not, " said Oliver. "I'll go and see if he's in his studynow. You go up stairs, and I'll come and tell you what he says. "

Stephen crawled dismally away, leaving his brother to fulfil hisself-imposed task. 

Oliver went straight to the Doctor's study. The door stood half-open, but the Doctor was not there. He entered, and waited inside a couple ofminutes, expecting that the head master would return; but no one came. After all, he would have to put off his confession of Stephen'sdelinquencies till to-morrow; and, half relieved, half disappointed, hequitted the room. As he came out he encountered Simon in the passage. 

"Hullo, Greenfield!" said that worthy; "what have you been up to inthere?"

"I want the Doctor, " said Oliver; "do you know where he is?"

"If saw him go up stairs a minute ago; that is, I mean down stairs, youknow, " said the lucid poet. 

This information was sufficiently vague to determine Oliver not toattempt a wild-goose chase after the Doctor that night, so, bidding ahurried good-night to Simon, he took his way down the passage which ledto Stephen's dormitory. 

He had not, however, gone many steps when a boy met him. It was Loman. There was a momentary struggle in Oliver's breast. Here was the--veryopportunity which an hour or two ago he had so eagerly desired. Thewhole picture of that afternoon's adventures came up before his mind, and he felt his blood tingle as his eyes caught sight of Stephen'spersecutor. Should he pay off the score now?

Loman saw him, and changed colour. He evidently guessed what waspassing through his enemy's mind, for a quick flush came to his face andan angry scowl to his brow. 

Oliver for one moment slackened pace. Then suddenly there came upon hima vision of Stephen's appealing face as he interceded that afternoon forthe boy who had done him such mischief, and that vision settled thething. 

Hurriedly resuming his walk, Oliver passed Loman with averted eyes, andwent on his way. 

"Well?" said Stephen, in the midst of undressing, as his brother enteredthe dormitory. 

"He wasn't there. I'll see him in the morning, " said Oliver. "Good-night, Stee. "

"Good-night, Noll, old man! I say, you are a brick to me!" and as theboy spoke there was a tremble in his voice which went straight to hisbrother's heart. 

"You are a brick to me!" A pretty "brick" he had been, letting theyoungster drift anywhere--into bad company, into bad ways, withoutholding out a hand to warn him; and in the end coming to his help onlyby accident, and serving him by undertaking a task which would quitepossibly result in his expulsion from the school. 

A brick, indeed! Oliver went off to his own bed that night moredispirited and dissatisfied with himself than he had ever felt before. And all through his dreams his brother's troubled face looked up at him, and the trembling voice repeated, again and again, "You are a brick tome--a brick to me!"

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

THE NIGHTINGALE EXAMINATION. 

The next morning early, before breakfast, Oliver joined the Doctor inhis study, and made a clean breast to him there and then of Stephen'sdelinquencies. He had evidently taken the right step in doing so, for, hearing it all thus frankly confessed by the elder brother, Dr Seniorwas disposed to take a much more lenient view of the case than he wouldhad the information come to him through any other channel. 

But at its best the offence was a grave one, and Oliver more than oncefelt anxious at the sight of the head master's long face during thenarrative. However, when it was all over his fears were at oncedispelled by the doctor saying, "Well, Greenfield, you've done a veryproper thing in telling me all this; it is a straightforward as well asa brotherly act. Your brother seems to have been very foolish, but Ihave no doubt he has got a lesson. You had better send him to me aftermorning service. "

And so, much relieved, Oliver went off and reported to the gratefulStephen the success of his mission, and the two boys went off to theschool chapel together a good deal more happy than they had been theprevious day. 

"I say, " said Stephen, as they went along, "I suppose you didn't sayanything about Loman, did you?"

"Of course not! he's no concern of mine, " said Oliver, rather tartly. "But look here, young 'un, I'm not going to let you fag any more forhim, or have anything to do with him. "

"All right!" said Stephen, who had no desire to continue hisacquaintance with his late "proprietor. "

"But the captain will row me, won't he?"

"If he does I'll make that square. You can fag for Wraysford if youlike, though, he wants a fellow. "

"Oh, all right!" cried Stephen, delighted, "that'll be jolly! I likeold Wray. "

"Very kind of you, " said a voice close by. 

It was Wraysford himself, who had come in for this very genuinecompliment. 

"Hullo! I say, look here, Wraysford, " said the beaming Stephen, "I'mgoing to cut Loman and fag for you. Isn't it jolly?"

"Depends on whether I have you. I don't want any Guinea-pigs in mystudy, mind. "

Stephen's face fell. For even such a privilege as fagging for Wraysfordhe could not afford to sever the sacred ties which held him to thefellowship of the Guinea-pigs. "I really wouldn't kick-up shines, " saidhe, imploringly. 

"You'd be a queer Guinea-pig if you didn't!" was the flattering answer. "And how many times a week would you go on strike, eh?"

"Oh!" said Stephen, "I'll never go on strike again; I don't like it. "

The two friends laughed at this ingenuous admission, and then Wraysfordsaid, "Well, I'll have you; but mind, I'm awfully particular, and knockmy fags about tremendously, don't I, Noll?"

"I don't mind that, " said the delighted Stephen. "Besides, you've nothad a fag to knock about!"

At that moment, however, the bell for morning chapel cut short allfurther talk for the present. Stephen obeyed its summons for once in asubdued and thankful frame of mind. Too often had those weekly servicesbeen to him occasions of mere empty form, when with his head full ofschool worries or school fun he had scarcely heard, much less heeded, what was said. 

To-day, however, it was different. Stephen was a sobered boy. He hadpassed through perils and temptations from which, if he had escaped, ithad been through no merit of his own. Things might have been fardifferent. His life had been saved, so had his peace of mind, and noweven the consequences of old transgressions had been lightened for him. What had he done to deserve all this?

This was the question which the boy humbly asked himself as he enteredthe chapel that morning, and the Doctor's sermon fitted well with hisaltered frame of mind. 

It was a sermon such as he had often heard before in that chapel; thewords struck him now with a new force which almost startled him. "Forgetting those things which are behind--reaching forth unto thosethings which are before, "--this was the Doctor's text, and in the fewsimple words in which he urged his hearers to lay the past, with all itsburdens, and disappointments, and shame, upon Him in whom aloneforgiveness is to be found, Stephen drank in new courage and hope forthe future, and in the thankfulness and penitence of his heart resolvedto commit his way more honestly than ever to the best of all keeping, compared with which even a brother's love is powerless. 

Before the morning was over Stephen duly went to the Doctor, who talkedto him very seriously. I need not repeat the talk here. Stephen wasvery penitent, and had the good sense to say as little as possible; butwhen it was all over he thanked the Doctor gratefully, and promised heshould never have to talk to him for bad conduct again. 

"You must thank your brother for my not dealing a great deal moreseverely with the case, " said Dr Senior; "and I am quite ready tobelieve it will not occur again. Now, good-bye. "

And off Stephen went, the happiest boy alive, determined more than everto respect the Doctor's authority, and prove himself a model boy. 

Sunday afternoon at Saint Dominic's was usually spent by the boys infine weather, in strolling about in the gardens, or rambling into thewoods by the banks of the Shar. 

This afternoon, however, was somewhat overcast, and a good many of theboys consequently preferred staying indoors to running the risk ofspoiling their best hats in a shower. Among those who kept the housewas Oliver, who, in reply to Wraysford's invitation to go out, pleadedthat he was not in the humour. 

This indeed was the case, for, now that Stephen's affairs were settled, the dread of the approaching Nightingale examination came back over himlike a nightmare, and made him quite miserable. The nearer the hour oftrial came the more convinced did Oliver become that he stood no chancewhatever of winning, and with that conviction all the bright hopes of auniversity course, and the prospects of after-success, seemedextinguished. 

Of course it was very ridiculous of him to worry himself into such astate, but then, reader, he had been working just a little too hard, andit was hardly his fault if he was ridiculous. 

Wraysford, though by no means in high spirits, kept his head a good dealbetter, and tried to enjoy his walk and forget all about books, as ifnothing at all was going to happen to-morrow. As for Loman, he was notvisible from morning till night, and a good many guessed, and guessedcorrectly, that he was at work, even on Sunday. 

The small boys, not so much though, I fear, out of reverence for the dayas for partisanship of the Fifth, were very indignant on the subject, and held a small full-dress meeting after tea, to protest against one ofthe candidates taking such an unfair advantage over the others. 

"He ought to be expelled!" exclaimed Paul. 

"All very well, " said Bramble. "Greenfield senior's cramming too, he'sbeen in all the afternoon. "

"He's not cramming, he's got a headache!" said Stephen. 

"Oh, yes, I dare say, don't you, Padger? Got a headache--that's a niceexcuse for copying out of cribs on a Sunday. "

"He doesn't use cribs, and I tell you he's not working!" said Stephen, indignantly. 

"Shut up, do you hear, or you'll get turned out, Potboy!"

This was too much for Stephen, who left the assembly in disgust, afterthreatening to take an early opportunity on the next day of giving hisadversary "one for himself, " a threat which we may as well say at oncehere he did not fail to carry out with his wonted energy. 

The long Sunday ended at last--a Sunday spoiled to many of the boys ofSaint Dominic's by distracting thoughts and cares--a day which manyimpatiently wished over, and which some wished would never give place tothe morrow. 

But that morrow came at last, and with it rose Oliver, strengthened andhopeful once more for the trial that lay before him. He was early atWraysford's study, whom he found only just out of bed. 

"Look alive, old man. What do you say to a dip in the river beforebreakfast? We've got plenty of time, and it will wash off the cobwebsbefore the exam. "

"All serene, " said Wraysford, not very cheerily, though. "Anything'sbetter than doing nothing. "

"Why, Wray, I thought you weren't going to let yourself get down aboutit?"

"I thought you weren't going to let yourself get up--why, you're quitefestive this morning. "

"Well, you see, a fellow can't do better than his best, and so as I havedone my best I don't mean to punish myself by getting in the blues. "

"Pity you didn't make that resolution yesterday. You were awfully glum, you know, then; and now I've got my turn, you see. "

"Oh, never mind, a plunge in the Shar will set you all right. "

"Stee, " said he, addressing his younger brother, who at that momententered proudly in his new capacity as Wraysford's fag, "mind you havebreakfast ready sharp by eight, do you hear? the best you can get out ofWray's cupboard. Come along, old boy. "

And so they went down to the river, Oliver in unusually good spirits, and Wraysford most unusually depressed and nervous. The bathe was not agreat success, for Wraysford evidently did not enjoy it. 

"What's wrong, old man?" said Oliver, as they walked back, "aren't youwell?"

"I'm all right, " said Wraysford. 

"But you're out of spirits. It's odd that I was in dumps and you werein good spirits up to the fatal day, and now things are just reversed. But, I say, you mustn't get down, you know, or it'll tell against you atthe exam. "

"It strikes me every answer I give will tell against me. All I hope isthat you get the scholarship. "

"I mean to try, just like you and Loman. "

And so they went into breakfast, which was a solemn meal, and despiteStephen's care in hunting up delicacies, not very well partaken of. 

It seemed ages before the nine o'clock bell summoned them down to theFifth Form room. 

Here, however, the sympathy and encouragement of their class-fellowsamply served to pass the time till the examination began. 

"Well, you fellows, " cried Pembury, as the two entered, "do you feellike winning?"

"Not more than usual, " said Oliver. "How do you feel?"

"Oh, particularly cheerful, for I've nothing to do all day, I find. I'mnot in for the Nightingale, or for the Mathematical Medal, or for theEnglish Literature. Simon's in for that, you know, so there's no chancefor any one. "

Simon smiled very blandly at this side compliment. 

"So you fellows, " continued Tony, "may command my services from morningto night if you like. "

"Loman was grinding hard all yesterday, " said Braddy. "I'm afraid he'llbe rather a hot one to beat. "

"But we _must_ beat him, mind, you fellows, " said Ricketts, calmly, comprehending the whole class in his "we. "

"Why, Wray, " said another, "how jolly blue you look! Don't go and funkit, old man, or it's all UP. "

"Who's going to funk it?" said Oliver, impatiently, on his friend'sbehalf. "I tell you Wray will most likely win. "

"Well, as long as one of you does, " said Tom Senior, with nobleimpartiality, "we don't care which; do we, Braddy?"

"Of course not. "

So, then, all this sympathy and encouragement were not for the two boysat all, but for their Form. They might just as well have been twocarefully trained racehorses starting on a race with heavy odds uponthem. 

The Doctor's entry, however, put an end to any further talk, and, asusual, a dead silence ensued after the boys had taken their seats. 

The Doctor looked a little uneasy. Doubtless he was impressed, too, bythe importance of the occasion. He proceeded to call over the lists ofcandidates for the different examinations in a fidgety manner, veryunlike his usual self, and then turning abruptly to the class, said:

"The Mathematical Medal candidates will remain here for examination. The English Literature and Nightingale Scholarship candidates will beexamined in the Sixth Form room. Boys not in for either of theseexaminations may go to their studies till the twelve o'clock bell rings. Before you disperse, however, "--and here the Doctor grew still morefidgety--"I want to mention one matter which I have already mentioned inthe Sixth. I mention it not because I suspect any boy here of adishonourable act, but because--the matter being a mystery--I feel Imust not neglect the most remote opportunity of clearing it up. "

What on earth was coming? It was as good as a ghost story, every onewas so spellbound and mystified. 

"On Saturday evening I had occasion to leave my study for rather lessthan five minutes, shortly after nine o'clock. I had been engaged ingetting together the various papers of questions for to-day'sexaminations, and left them lying on the corner of the table. Onreturning to my study--I had not been absent five minutes--I found thatone of the papers--one of the Nightingale Scholarship papers, which Ihad only just copied out, was missing. If I were not perfectly sure thefull number was there before I left the room, I should conclude I wasmistaken, but of that I am sure. I just wish to ask this one questionhere, which I have already asked in the Sixth. Does any boy presentknow anything about the missing paper?"

You might have heard a pin drop as the Doctor paused for a reply. 

"No? I expected not; I am quite satisfied. You can disperse, boys, toyour various places. "

"What a fellow the Doctor is for speeches, Wray, " said Oliver, as he andhis friend made their way to the Sixth Form room. 

"Yes. But that's a very queer thing about the paper, though. "

"Oh, he's certain to have mislaid it somewhere. It's a queer thingsaying anything about it; for it looks uncommonly as if he suspectedsome one. "

"So it does. Oh, horrors! here we are at the torture-chamber! I wishit was all over!"

They entered the Sixth Form room, which was regularly cleared foraction. One long desk was allotted to the three Nightingale candidates, two others to the English Literature boys, and another to thecompetitors in a Sixth Form Greek verse contest. 

Loman was already in his place, waiting with flushed face for the ordealto begin. The two friends took their seats without vouchsafing anynotice of their rival, and an uncomfortable two minutes ensued, duringwhich it seemed as if the Doctor were never to arrive. 

He did arrive at last, however, bringing with him the examination papersfor the various classes. 

"Boys for the Greek verse prize come forward. "

Wren, Raleigh, Winter, and Callonby advanced, and received each one hispaper. 

"Boys for the Nightingale Scholarship come forward. "

The three competitors obeyed the summons, and to each was handed apaper. 

It was not in human nature to forbear glancing hurriedly at themomentous questions, as each walked slowly back to his seat. The effectof that momentary glance was very different on the three boys. Wraysford's face slightly lengthened, Loman's grew suddenly aghast, Oliver's betrayed no emotion whatever. 

"Boys for the English Literature prize come forward. "

These duly advanced and were furnished, and then silence reigned in theroom, broken only by the rapid scratching of pens and the solemn tick ofthe clock on the wall. 

Reader, you doubtless know the horrors of an examination-room as well asI do. You know what it is to sit biting the end of your pen, andglaring at the ruthless question in front of you. You know what it isto dash nervously from question to question, answering a bit of this anda bit of that, but lacking the patience to work steadily down the list. And you have experienced doubtless the aggravation of hearing the pen ofthe man on your right flying along the paper with a hideous squeak, never stopping for a moment to give you a chance. And knowing all this, there is no need for me to describe the vicissitudes of this particularday of ordeal at Saint Dominic's. 

The work went steadily on from morning to afternoon. More than oneanxious face darted now and then nervous glances up at the clock, as thehour of closing approached. 

Loman was one of them. He was evidently in difficulties, and the FifthForm fellows, who looked round occasionally from their EnglishLiterature papers, were elated to see their own men writing steadily andhard, while the Sixth man looked all aground. There was one boy, however, who had no time for such observations. That was Simon. He hadgot hold of a question which was after his own heart, and demanded everysecond of his attention--"Describe, in not more than twelve lines ofblank verse, the natural beauties of the River Shar. " Here was a chancefor the _Dominican_ poet!

 "The Shar is a very beautiful stream, Of the Ouse a tributary; Up at Gusset Weir it's prettiest, I ween, Because there the birds sing so merry. "

These four lines the poet styled, "Canto One. " Cantos 2, 3, and 4 weremuch of the same excellence, and altogether the effusion was in one ofSimon's happiest moods. Alas! as another poet said, "Art is long, timeis fleeting. " The clock pointed to three long before the bard hadpenned his fifth canto; and sadly and regretfully he and hisfellow-candidates gathered together and handed in their papers, forbetter or worse. 

Among the last to finish up was Oliver, who had been working hammer andtongs during the whole examination. 

"How did you get on?" said Wraysford, as they walked back to the Fifth. 

"Middling, not so bad as I feared; how did you?"

"Not very grand, I'm afraid; but better than I expected, " saidWraysford. "But I say, did you see how gravelled Loman seemed? I fancyhe didn't do very much. "

"So I thought; but I hadn't time to watch him much. "

In the Fifth there was a crowd of questioners, eager to ascertain howtheir champions had fared; and great was their delight to learn thatneither was utterly cast down at his own efforts. 

"You fellows are regular bricks if you get it!" cried Ricketts. 

"It'll be the best thing that has happened for the Fifth for a longtime. "

"Oh, I say, " said Simon, suddenly, addressing Oliver in a peculiarlyknowing tone, "wasn't it funny, that about the Doctor losing the paper?Just the very time I met you coming out of his study, you know, onSaturday evening. But of course I won't say anything. Only wasn't itfunny?"

What had come over Oliver, that he suddenly turned crimson, and withouta single word struck the speaker angrily with his open hand on theforehead?

Was he mad? or could it possibly be that--

Before the assembled Fifth could recover from their astonishment orconjecture as to the motive for this sudden exhibition of feeling, heturned abruptly to the door and quitted the room. 

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

A TURN OF THE TIDE. 

An earthquake could hardly have produced a greater shock than Oliver'sstrange conduct produced on the Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's. For amoment or two they remained almost stupefied with astonishment, and thenrose a sudden clamour of tongues on every hand. 

"What can he mean?" exclaimed one. 

"Mean! It's easy enough to see what he means, " said another, "thehypocrite!"

"I should never have thought Greenfield senior went in for that sort ofthing!"

"Went in for what sort of thing?" cried Wraysford, with pale face and ina perfect tremble. 

"Why--cheating!" replied the other. 

"You're a liar to say so!" shouted Wraysford, walking rapidly up to thespeaker. 

The other boys, however, intervened, and held the indignant Wraysfordback. 

"I tell you you're a liar to say so!" again he exclaimed. "He's not acheat, I tell you; he never cheated. You're a pack of liars, all ofyou!"

"I say, draw it mild, Wray, you know, " interposed Pembury. "You needn'tinclude me in your compliments. "

Wraysford glared at him a moment and then coloured slightly. 

"_You_ don't call Oliver a cheat?" he said, inquiringly. 

"I shouldn't till I was cock-sure of the fact, " replied the cautiouseditor of the _Dominican_. 

"Do you mean to say you aren't sure?" said Wraysford. 

Pembury vouchsafed no answer, but whistled to himself. 

"All I can say is, " said Bullinger, who was one of Wraysford's chums, "it looks uncommonly ugly, if what Simon says is true. "

"I don't believe a word that ass says. "

"Oh, but, " began Simon, with a most aggravating cheerfulness, "I assureyou I'm not telling a lie, Wraysford. I'm sorry I said anything aboutit. I never thought there would be a row about it. I promise I'll notmention it to anybody. "

"You blockhead! who cares for your promises? I don't believe you. "

"Well, I know I met Greenfield senior coming out of the Doctor's studyon Saturday evening, about five minutes past nine. I'm positive ofthat, " said Simon. 

"And I suppose he had the paper in his hand?" sneered Wraysford, lookingvery miserable. 

"No; I expect he'd put it in his pocket, you know, at least, that is, Iwould have. "

This candid admission on the part of the ingenious poet was too much forthe gravity of one or two of the Fifth. Wraysford, however, was in nolaughing mood, and went off to his study in great perturbation. 

He could not for a moment believe that his friend could be guilty ofsuch a dishonourable act as stealing an examination paper, and hisimpulse was to go at once to Oliver's study and get the suspicions ofthe Fifth laid there and then. But the fear of seeming in the leastdegree to join in those suspicions kept him back. He tried to laugh thething to scorn inwardly, and called himself a villain and a traitortwenty times for admitting even the shadow of a doubt into his own mind. Yet, as Wraysford sat that afternoon and brooded over his friend's newtrouble, he became more and more uncomfortable. 

When on a former occasion the fellows had called in question Oliver'scourage, he had felt so sure, so very sure the suspicion was agroundless one, that he had never taken it seriously to heart. Butsomehow this affair was quite different. What possible object wouldSimon, for instance, have for telling a deliberate lie? and if it hadbeen a lie, why should Oliver have betrayed such confusion on hearingit?

These were questions which, try all he would, Wraysford could not getout of his mind. 

When Stephen presently came in, cheery as ever, and eager to hear howthe examination had gone off, the elder boy felt an awkwardness intalking to him which he had never experienced before. As for Stephen, he put down the short, embarrassed answers he received to Wraysford'sown uneasiness as to the result of the examination. Little guessed theboy what was passing in the other's mind!

There was just one hope Wraysford clung to. That was that Oliver shouldcome out anywhere but first in the result. If Loman, or Wraysfordhimself, were to win, no one would be able to say his friend hadprofited by a dishonourable act; indeed, it would be as good as proof hehad not taken the paper. 

And yet Wraysford felt quite sick as he called to mind the unflaggingmanner in which Oliver had worked at his paper that morning, coveringsheet upon sheet with his answers, and scarcely drawing in until timewas up. It didn't look like losing, this. 

He threw himself back in his chair in sheer misery. "I would soonerhave done the thing myself, " groaned he to himself, "than Oliver. " Thensuddenly he added, "But it's not true! I'm certain of it! He couldn'tdo it! I'll never believe it of him!"

Poor Wraysford! It was easier to say the generous words than feel them. 

Pembury looked in presently with a face far more serious and overcastthan he usually wore. 

"I say, Wray, " said he, in troubled tones, "I'm regularly floored by allthis. Do you believe it?"

"No, I don't, " replied Wraysford, but so sadly and hesitatingly that hadhe at once confessed he did, he could not have expressed his meaningmore plainly. 

"I'd give anything to be sure it was all false, " said Pembury, "and sowould a lot of the fellows. As for that fool Simon--"

"Bah!" exclaimed Wraysford, fiercely, "the fellow ought to be kickedround the school. "

"He's getting on that way already, I fancy, " said Pembury. "I wassaying I'd think nothing at all about it if what he says was the onlything to go by, but--well, you saw what a state Greenfield got intoabout it?"

"Maybe he was just in a sudden rage with the fellow for thinking of sucha thing, " said Wraysford. 

"It looked like something more than rage, " said Pembury, dismally, "something a good deal more. "

Wraysford said nothing, but fidgeted in his chair. A long silencefollowed, each busy with his own thoughts and both yearning for any signof hope. "I don't see what good it could have done him if he did takethe paper. He'd have no time to cram it up yesterday. He was out withyou, wasn't he, all the afternoon?"

"No, " said Wraysford, not looking up, "he had a headache and stayed in. "

Pembury gave a low whistle of dismay. 

"I say, Wray, " said he, presently, "it really does look bad, don't youthink so yourself?"

"I don't know what to think, " said Wraysford, with a groan; "I'm quitebewildered. "

"It's no use pretending not to see what's as plain as daylight, " saidPembury, as he turned and hobbled away. 

The Fifth meanwhile had been holding a sort of court-martial on theaffair. 

Simon was made to repeat his story once more, and stuck to it too, inspite of all the browbeating he got. 

"What makes you so sure of the exact time?" asked one of hisinquisitors. 

"Oh, because, you know, I wanted to get off a letter by the post, andthought I was in time till I saw the clock opposite the Doctor's studysaid five minutes past. "

"Did Greenfield say anything to you when he saw you?" some one elseasked. 

"Oh, yes, he asked me if I knew where the Doctor was. "

"Did you tell him?"

"Oh, yes, I said he'd gone down to the hall or somewhere. "

"And did Greenfield go after him?"

"Oh, no, you know, he went off the other way as quick as he could, " saidSimon, in a voice as though he would say, "How can you ask such anabsurd question?"

"Did you ask him what he wanted in the study?"

"Oh, yes; but of course he didn't tell me--not likely. But I say, Isuppose we're sure to win the Nightingale now, aren't we? Mind, I'm notgoing to tell anybody, because, of course, it's a secret. "

"Shut up, you miserable blockhead, unless you want to be kicked!"shouted Bullinger. "No one wants to know what you're going to do. You've done mischief enough already. "

"Oh, well, I didn't mean, you know, " said the poet; "all I said was Imet him coming--"

"Shut up, do you hear? or you'll catch it!" once more exclaimedBullinger. 

The wretched Simon gave up further attempts to explain himself. Stillwhat he had said, in his blundering way, had been quite enough. 

The thing was beyond a doubt; and as the Fifth sat there in judgment, asense of shame and humiliation came over them, to which many of themwere unused. 

"I know this, " said Ricketts, giving utterance to what was passing inthe minds of nearly all his class-fellows, "I'd sooner have lost thescholarship twenty times over than win it like this. "

"Precious fine glory it will be if we do get it!" said Braddy. 

"Unless Wray wins, " suggested Ricketts. 

"No such luck as that, I'm afraid, " said Bullinger. "That's just theworst of it. He's not only disgraced us, but he's swindled his bestfriend. It's a blackguard shame!" added he, fiercely. 

"At any rate, Loman is out of it, from what I hear; he got regularlystuck in the exam. "

"I tell you, " said Ricketts, "I'd sooner have had Loman take thescholarship and our two men nowhere at all, than this. "

There was nothing more than this to be said, assuredly, to prove thedisgust of the Fifth at the conduct of their class-fellow. 

"I suppose Greenfield will have the grace to confess it, now it's allcome out, " said Ricketts. 

"If he doesn't I fancy we can promise him a pretty hot time of it amongus, " said Braddy. 

One or two laughed at this, but to most of those present the matter waspast a joke. 

For it must be said of the Dominicans--and I think it may be said of agood many English public schoolboys besides--that, however foolish theymay have been in other respects, however riotous, however jealous of oneanother, however well satisfied with themselves, a point of honour was apoint which they all took seriously to heart. They could forgive aschoolfellow for doing a disobedient act sometimes, or perhaps even avicious act, but a cowardly or dishonourable action was a thing whichnothing would excuse, and which they felt not only a disgrace to the boyperpetrating it, but a disgrace put upon themselves. 

Had Oliver been the most popular boy in the school it would have beenall the same. As it was, he was a long way from being the most popular. He never took any pains to win the good opinion of his fellows. When, by means of some achievement in which he excelled, he had contrived (asin the case of the cricket match last term) to bring glory on his schooland to make himself a hero in the eyes of Saint Dominic's, he had beenwont to take the applause bestowed on him with the utmost indifference, which some might even construe into contempt. And in precisely the samespirit would he take the displeasure which he now and then managed toincur. 

Boys don't like this. It irritates them to see their praise or blamemade little of; and for this reason, if for no other, Oliver wouldhardly have been a favourite. 

But there was another reason. Now that the Fifth found their faith inGreenfield senior rudely dashed to the ground, they were not slow torecall the unpleasant incidents of last term, when, by refusing tothrash Loman, he had discredited the whole Form, and laid himself underthe suspicion of cowardice. 

Most of the fellows had at the time of the Nightingale examinationeither forgotten, or forgiven, or repented of their suspicions, and, indeed, by his challenge to Loman the previous Saturday Oliver had beenconsidered quite to have redeemed his reputation in this respect. Butnow it all came up again. A fellow who could do a cowardly deed at onetime could do a mean one at another. If one was natural to hischaracter, so was the other, and in fact one explained the other. Hewas mean when he showed himself a coward last term. He was a cowardwhen he did a mean act this term. 

What wonder, in these circumstances, if the Fifth felt sore, very soreindeed, on the subject of Oliver Greenfield?

To every one's relief, he did not put in an appearance again that day. He kept his study, and Paul brought down word at prayer time that he hada headache and had gone to bed. 

At this the Fifth smiled grimly and said nothing. 

Next morning, however, Oliver turned up as usual in his place. Helooked pale, but otherwise unconcerned, and those who looked-for tracesof shame and self-abasement in his face were sorely disappointed. 

He surely must have known or guessed the resolution the Fifth had cometo with regard to him; but from his unabashed manner he was evidentlydetermined not to take it for granted till the hint should be givenpretty clearly. 

On Ricketts, whose desk was next to that of Oliver, fell the task offirst giving this hint. 

"How did you get on yesterday in the English Literature?" asked Oliver. 

Ricketts' only answer was to turn his back and begin to talk to hisother neighbour. 

Those who were watching this incident noticed a sudden flush on Oliver'scheek as he stared for an instant at his late friend. Then with aneffort he seemed to recover himself. 

He did not, however, attempt any further conversation either withRicketts or his other neighbour, Braddy, who in a most marked manner hadmoved as far as possible away from him. On the contrary, he coollyavailed himself of the extra room on the desk and busied himselfsilently with the lessons for the day. 

But he now and then looked furtively up in the direction of Wraysford, who was seated at an opposite desk. The eyes of the two friends met nowand then, and when they did each seemed greatly embarrassed. ForWraysford, after a night's heart-searching, had come to thedetermination not, after all, to cut his friend; and yet he found itimpossible to feel and behave towards him as formerly. He tried veryhard indeed not to appear constrained, but the more he tried the moreembarrassed he felt. After class he purposely walked across the room tomeet his old chum. 

"How are you?" he said, in a forced tone and manner utterly unlike hisold self. 

It was a ridiculous and feeble remark to make, and it would have beenfar better had he said nothing. Oliver stared at him for a moment in aperplexed way, and then, without answering the question, walkedsomewhere else. 

Wraysford was quite conscious of his own mistake; still it hurt himsorely that his well-meant effort, which had cost him so much, should bethus summarily thrust aside without a word. For the first time in hislife he felt a sense of resentment against his old friend, the beginningof a gap which was destined to become wider as time went on. 

The only person in the room who did meet Oliver on natural ground wasthe poetic Simon. To him Oliver walked up and said, quietly, "I begyour pardon for hitting you yesterday. "

"Oh, " said Simon, with a giggle. "Oh, it's all right, Greenfield, youknow; I never meant to let it out. It'll soon get hushed up; I don'tintend to let it go a bit farther. "

The poet was too much carried away by the enthusiasm of his ownmagnanimity to observe that he was in imminent risk, during the deliveryof this speech, of another blow a good deal more startling than that ofyesterday. When he concluded, he found Oliver had left him to himselfand hurriedly quitted the room. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

THE RESULT OF THE EXAMINATION. 

The adventures of the morning did not certainly tend to make the Fifththink better of Oliver Greenfield. 

Had he appeared before them humble and penitent, there were some whoeven then might have tried to forgive him and forget what was done. Butinstead of that he was evidently determined to brazen the thing out, andhad begun by snubbing the very fellows whom he had so deeply injured. 

Wraysford felt specially hurt. It had cost him a good deal to put on afriendly air and speak as if nothing had happened; and to find himselfscorned for his pains and actually avoided by the friend who had wrongedhim was too much. But even that would not have been so bad, had notOliver immediately gone and made up to Simon before all the class. 

Wraysford did not remain to join in the chorus of indignation in whichthe others indulged after morning school was over. He left them andstrolled out dismally into the playground. 

He must do something! He must know one way or the other what to thinkof Oliver. Even now he would gladly believe that it was all a dream, and that nothing had come between him and his old friend. But the morehe pondered it the more convinced he became it was anything but a dream. 

He wandered unconsciously beyond the playground towards the woods on theside of the Shar, where he and Oliver had walked so often in the olddays. 

The old days! It was but yesterday that they had last walked there. Yet what an age ago it seemed! and how impossible that the old daysshould ever come back again. 

He had not got far into the wood when he heard what seemed to himfamiliar footsteps ahead of him. Yesterday he would have shouted andwhistled and called on the fellow to hold hard. But now he had no suchinclination. His impulse was to turn round and go back. 

"And yet, " thought he, "why should _I go_ back? If it is Oliver, whathave _I_ to feel ashamed of?"

And so he advanced. The boy in front of him was walking slowly, andWraysford soon came in view of him. As he expected, it was Oliver. 

At the sight of his old friend, wandering here solitary and listless, all Wraysford's old affection came suddenly back. At least he wouldmake one more effort. So he quickened his pace. Oliver turned and sawhim coming. But he did not wait. He walked on slowly as before, apparently indifferent to the approach of anybody. 

This was a damper certainly to Wraysford. At least Oliver might haveguessed why his friend was coming after him. 

It was desperately hard to know how to begin a conversation. Olivertrudged on, sullen and silent, in anything but an encouraging manner. Still, Wraysford, now his mind was made up, was not to be put from hispurpose. 

"Noll, old man, " he began, in as much of his old tone and manner as hecould assume. 

"Well?" said Oliver, not looking up. 

"Aren't we to be friends still?"

The question cost the speaker a hard effort, and evidently went home. Oliver stopped short in his walk, and looking full in his old friend'sface, said, "Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm afraid we are not friends at this moment. "

"And whose fault is that?" said Oliver, scornfully. 

The question stung Wraysford as much as it amazed him. Was he, then, ofall the fellows in the school, to have an explanation thus demanded ofhim from one who had done him the most grievous personal wrong oneschoolboy well could do to another?

His face flushed as he replied slowly, "Your fault, Greenfield; how canyou ask?"

Oliver gave a short laugh very like contempt, and then turned suddenlyon his heel, leaving Wraysford smarting with indignation, and finallyconvinced that between his old friend and himself there was a gulf whichnow it would be hard indeed to bridge over. 

He returned moodily to the school. Stephen was busy in his studygetting tea. 

"Hullo, Wray, " he shouted, as the elder boy entered; "don't you wish itwas this time to-morrow? I do, I'm mad to hear the result!"

"Are you?" said Wraysford. 

"Yes, and so are you, you old humbug. Noll says he thinks he did prettywell, and that you answered well too. I say, what a joke if it's a deadheat, and you both get bracketed first. "

"Cut away now, " said Wraysford, as coolly as he could, "and don't makesuch a row. "

There was something unusual in his tone which surprised the small boy. He put it down, however, to worry about the examination, and quietlywithdrew as commanded. 

The next day came at last. Two days ago, in the Fifth Form, at anyrate, it would have been uphill work for any master to attempt toconduct morning class in the face of all the eagerness and enthusiasmwith which the result of the examinations would have been looked-for. Now, however, there was all the suspense, indeed, but it was thesuspense of dread rather than triumph. 

"Never mind, " said Ricketts to Pembury, after the two had been talkingover the affair for the twentieth time. "Never mind; and there's justthis, Tony, if Wray is only second, it will be a splendid win for theFifth all the same. "

"I see nothing splendid in the whole concern, " said Pembury. And thatwas the general feeling. 

Oliver entered and took his accustomed seat in silence. No one spoke tohim, many moved away from him, and nearly all favoured him with a longand unfriendly stare. 

All these things he took unmoved. He sat coolly waiting for class tobegin, and when it did begin, any one would have supposed he was theonly comfortable and easy-minded fellow in the room. The lesson draggedon languidly that morning. Most of the boys seemed to regard it assomething inflicted on them to pass the time rather than as a seriouseffort of instruction. The clock crawled slowly on from ten to eleven, and from eleven to half-past, and every one was glad when at last MrJellicott closed his book. Then followed an interval of suspense. TheDoctor was due with the results, and was even now announcing them in theSixth. What ages it seemed before his footsteps sounded in the passageoutside the Fifth!

At last he entered, and a hush fell over the class. One or two glancedquickly up, as though they hoped to read their fate in the head master'sface. Others waited, too anxious to stir or look up. Others groanedinwardly with a sort of prophetic foresight of what was to come. 

The Doctor walked up to the desk and unfolded his paper. 

Wraysford looked furtively across the room to where his old friend sat. There was a flush in Oliver's face as he followed the Doctor with hiseyes; he was breathing hard, Wraysford could see, and the corners of hismouth were working with more than ordinary nervousness. 

"Alas!" thought Wraysford, "I don't envy him his thoughts!"

The Doctor began to speak. 

"The following are the results of the various examinations held onMonday. English Literature--maximum number of marks 100. 1st, Bullinger, 72 marks; 2nd, West, 68; 3rd, Maybury, 51; 4th, Simon, 23. I'm afraid, Simon, you were a little too venturesome entering for anexamination like this. Your paper was a very poor performance. "

Simon groaned and gulped down his astonishment. 

"I say, " whispered he to Oliver, who sat in front of him, "I know it's amistake: you know I wrote five cantos about the Shar--good too. He'slost that. I say, had I better tell him?"

Oliver vouchsafing no reply, the unfortunate poet merely replied to thehead master's remarks, "Yes, sir, " and then subsided, more convincedthan ever that Saint Dominic's was not worthy of him. 

"The Mathematical Medal--maximum number of marks 80. 1st, Heath, 65;2nd, Price, 54; 3rd, Roberts, 53. Heath's answers, I may say, were verygood, and the examiners have specially commended him. "

Heath being a Sixth Form man, this information was absolutely withoutinterest to the Fifth, who wondered why the Doctor should put himselfout of the way to announce it. 

"The Nightingale Scholarship. "

Ah, now! There was a quick stir, and then a deeper silence than ever asthe Doctor slowly read out, "The maximum number of marks possible, 120. First, Greenfield, Fifth Form, 112 marks. And I must say I and theexaminers are astonished as well as highly gratified with this reallybrilliant performance. Greenfield, I congratulate you as well as yourclass-fellows on your success. It does you the very greatest credit!"

A dead silence followed this eulogium. Those who watched Oliver saw hisface first glow, then turn pale, as the Doctor spoke. He kept his eyessteadily fixed on the paper in the head master's hand, as if waiting forwhat was to follow. 

The Doctor went on, "Second, Wraysford, Fifth Form, 97 marks, also acreditable performance. "

One or two near Wraysford clapped him warmly on the back, and throughoutthe class generally there was a show of satisfaction at this result, instrange contrast with the manner in which the announcement of Oliver'ssuccess had been received. 

Still, every one was too eager to hear the third and final announcementto disturb the proceedings by any demonstration just now. 

"Loman, Sixth Form--" and here the Doctor paused, and knitted his brows. 

"Loman, Sixth Form, 70 marks!"

This finally brought down the house. Scarcely was the Doctor's backturned, when a general clamour rose on every hand. He, good man, set itdown to applause of the winners, but every one else knew it meanttriumph over the vanquished. 

"Bravo, Wray! old man. Hurrah for the Fifth!" shouted Bullinger. 

"Ninety-seven to seventy. Splendid, old fellow!" cried another. 

"I was certain you'd win, " said another. 

"I have not won, " said Wraysford, drily, and evidently not liking thesemarked congratulations; "I'm second. "

"So you are, I quite forgot, " said Ricketts: then turning to Oliver, headded, mockingly, "Allow me to congratulate you, Greenfield, on yourreally brilliant success. 112 marks out of 120! You could hardly havedone better if you had seen the paper a day or two before the exam!Your class, I assure you, are very proud of you. "

A general sneer of contempt followed this speech, in the midst of whichOliver, after darting one angry glance at the speaker, deliberatelyquitted the room. 

This proceeding greatly irritated the Fifth, who had hoped at least tomake their class-fellow smart while they had the opportunity. Theygreeted his departure now with a general chorus of hissing, and revengedthemselves in his absence by making the most of Wraysford. 

"Surely the fellow won't be allowed to take the scholarship after this?"said Ricketts. "The Doctor must see through it all. "

"It's very queer if he doesn't, " said Bullinger. 

"The scholarship belongs to Wray, " said Braddy, "and I mean to say it'sa blackguard shame if he doesn't get it!"

"It's downright robbery, that's what it is!" said another; "the fellowought to be kicked out of the school!"

"I vote some one tells the Doctor, " said Braddy. 

"Suppose you go and tell him now, yourself, " said Pembury, with asarcastic smile; "you could do it capitally. What do you say?"

Braddy coloured. Pembury was always snubbing him. 

"I don't want to tell tales, " he said. "What I mean is, Wraysford oughtnot to be cheated out of his scholarship. "

"It's a lucky thing Wray has got you to set things right for him, "snarled Pembury, amid a general titter. 

Braddy subsided at this, and left his tormentor master of the situation. 

"There's no use our saying or doing anything, " said that worthy. "Weshall probably only make things worse. It's sure to come out in time, and till then we must grin and bear it. "

"All very well, " said some one, "but Greenfield will be grinning too. "

"I fancy not, " said Pembury. "I'm not a particular angel myself, butI've a notion if I had cheated a schoolfellow I should be a trifle offmy grinning form; I don't know. "

This modest confession caused some amusement, and helped a good deal torestore the class to a better humour. 

"After all, I don't envy the fellow his feelings this minute, " continuedPembury, following up his advantage. 

"And I envy his prospects in the Fifth still less, " said Ricketts. 

"If you take my advice, " said Pembury, "you'll leave him pretty much tohimself. Greenfield is a sort of fellow it's not easy to score off; andsome of you would only make fools of yourselves if you tried to do it. "

Wraysford had stood by during this conversation, torn by conflictingemotions. He was undoubtedly bitterly disappointed to have missed thescholarship; but that was as nothing to the knowledge that it was hisfriend, his own familiar friend, who had turned against him and thusgrievously wronged him. Yet with all his sense of injury he couldhardly stand by and listen to all the bitter talk about Oliver in hisabsence without a sense of shame. Two days ago he would have flared upat the first word, and given the rash speaker something to remember. Now it was his misery to stand by and hear his old chum abused anddespised, and to feel that he deserved every word that was spoken ofhim!

If he could only have found one word to say on his behalf!

But he could not, and so left the room as soon as it was possible toescape, and retired disconsolately to his own study. 

As for the Fifth, Pembury's advice prevailed with them. There were afew who were still disposed to take their revenge on Oliver in a moremarked manner than by merely cutting him; but a dread of the tongue ofthe editor of the _Dominican_, as well as a conviction of theuselessness of such procedure, constrained them to give way and fall inwith the general resolution. 

One boy only was intractable. That was Simon. It was not in the poet'snature to agree to cut anybody. When the class dispersed he took itinto his gifted head to march direct to Oliver's study. Oliver wasthere, writing a letter. 

"Oh, I say, you know, " began Simon, nervously, but smiling most affably, "all the fellows are going to cut you, you know, Greenfield. About thatpaper, you know, the time I met you coming out of the Doctor's study. But _I_ won't cut you, you know. We'll hush it all up, you know, Greenfield; upon my word we will. But the fellows think--"

"That will do!" said Oliver, angrily. 

"Oh, but you know, Greenfield--"

"Look here, if you don't get out of my study, " said Oliver, rising tohis feet, "I'll--"

Before he could finish his sentence the poet, who after all was one ofthe best-intentioned jackasses in Saint Dominic's, had vanished. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

LOMAN IN LUCK. 

While we have been talking of Oliver and Wraysford, and of the manner inwhich the results of the Nightingale examination affected them and theclass to which they belonged, the reader will hardly have forgotten thatthere was another whose interest in that result was fully as serious andfully as painful. 

Loman had been counting on gaining the scholarship to a dead certainty. From the moment when it occurred to him he would be able to free himselfof his money difficulties with Cripps by winning it, he had dismissed, or seemed to dismiss, all further anxiety from his mind. He neverdoubted that he in the Sixth could easily beat the two boys in theFifth; and though, as we have seen, he now and then felt a sneakingmisgiving on the subject, it never seriously disturbed his confidence. 

Now, however, he was utterly floored. He did not need to wait for theannouncement of the results to be certain he had not won, for he hadknown his fate the moment his eyes glanced down the questions on thepaper on the morning of examination. 

At his last interview with Cripps that memorable Saturday afternoon, hehad promised confidently to call at the Cockchafer next Thursday withthe news of the result, as a further guarantee for the payment of thethirty pounds, never doubting what that result would be. How was he toface this interview now?

He could never tell Cripps straight out that he had been beaten in theexamination; that would be the same thing as telling him to go at onceto the Doctor or his father with the document which the boy had signed, and expose the whole affair. And it would be no use making a poor mouthto the landlord of the Cockchafer and begging to be forgiven the debt;Loman knew enough by this time to feel convinced of the folly of that. What was to be done?

"I shall have to humbug the fellow some way, " said Loman to himself, ashe sat in his study the afternoon after the announcement of the result. And then followed an oath. 

Loman had been going from bad to worse the last month. Ever since hehad begun, during the holidays, regularly to frequent the Cockchafer, and to discover that it was his interest to make himself agreeable tothe man he disliked and feared, the boy's vicious instincts haddeveloped strangely. Company which before would have offended him, henow found--especially when it flattered him--congenial, and words andacts from which in former days he would have shrunk now came naturally. 

"I shall have to humbug the fellow somehow, " said he; "I only wish Iknew how;" and then Loman set himself deliberately to invent a lie forMr Cripps. 

A charming afternoon's occupation this for a boy of seventeen!

He sat and pondered for an hour or more, sometimes fancying he had hitupon the object of his search, and sometimes finding himself quite offthe tack. Had Cripps only known what care and diligence was beingbestowed on him that afternoon he would assuredly have been highlynattered. 

At length he seemed to come to a satisfactory decision, and, naturallyexhausted by such severe mental exertion, Loman quitted his study andsought in the playground the fresh air and diversion he so much needed. One of the first boys he met there was Simon. "Hullo, Loman!" said thatamiable genius, "would you have believed it?"

"Believed what?" said Loman. 

"Oh! you know, I thought you knew, about the Nightingale, you know. Isay, how jolly low you came out!"

"Look here! you'd better hold your row!" said Loman, surlily, "unlessyou want a hiding. "

"Oh; it's not that, you know. What I meant was about Greenfield senior. Isn't that a go?"

"What about him? Why can't you talk like an ordinary person, and notlike a howling jackass?"

"Why, you know, " said Simon, off whom all such pretty side complimentsas these were wont to roll like water off a duck's back--"why, you know, about that paper?"

"What paper?" said Loman, impatiently. "The one that was stolen out ofthe Doctor's study, you know. Isn't that a go? But we're going to hushit up. Honour bright!"

Loman's face at that moment was anything but encouraging. Somehow, thisroundabout way of the poet's seemed particularly aggravating to him, forhe turned quite pale with rage, and, seizing the unhappy bard by thethroat, said, with an oath, "What do you mean, you miserable beast?What about the paper?"

"Oh!" said Simon, not at all put about by this rough handling--"why, don't you know? _we_ know who took it, we do; but we're all going to--"

But at this point Simon's speech was interrupted, for the very goodreason that Loman's grip on his throat became so very tight that thewretched poet nearly turned black in the face. 

With another oath the Sixth Form boy exclaimed, "Who took it?"

"Why--don't you know?--oh!--oh, I say, mind my throat!--haven't youheard?--why, Greenfield senior, you know!"

Loman let go his man suddenly and stared at him. 

"Greenfield senior?" he exclaimed in amazement. 

"Yes; would you have thought it? None of us would--we're all going tohush it up, you know, honour bright we are. "

"Who told you he took it?"

"Why, you know, I saw him;" and here Simon giggled jubilantly, to markwhat astonishment his disclosure was causing. 

"_You_ saw him take it?" asked Loman, astounded. 

"Yes; that is, I saw him coming out of the Doctor's study with it. "

"You did?"

"Yes; that is, of course he must have had it; and he says so himself. "

"What, Greenfield says he took the paper?" exclaimed Loman, in utterastonishment. 

"Yes; that is, he doesn't say he didn't; and all the fellows are goingto cut him dead, but we mean to hush it up if we can. "

"Hush yourself up, that's what you'd better do, " said Loman, turning hisback unceremoniously on his informant, and proceeding, full of thisstrange news, on his solitary walk. What was in his mind as he wentalong I cannot tell you. I fancy it was hardly sorrow at the thoughtthat a schoolfellow could stoop to a mean, dishonest action, nor, Ithink, was it indignation on Wraysford's or his own account. 

Indeed, the few boys who passed Loman that afternoon were struck withthe cheerfulness of his appearance. Considering he had been miserablybeaten in the scholarship examination, this show of satisfaction was allthe more remarkable. 

"The fellow seems quite proud of himself, " said Callonby to Wren as theypassed him. 

"He's the only fellow who is, if that's so, " said Wren. 

Loman stopped and spoke to them as they came up. 

"Hullo! you fellows, " said he, in as free and easy a manner as onefellow can assume to others who he knows dislike him, "I wanted to seeyou. Which way are you going?--back to the school?"

"Wren and I are going a stroll together, " said Callonby, coldly;"good-bye. "

"Half a minute, " said Loman. "I suppose you heard the results of theNightingale read out. "

"Considering I was sitting on the same form with you when they were, Isuppose I did, " said Wren. 

"That's all right, " said Loman, evidently determined not to notice thesnubbing bestowed on him. "Mine wasn't a very loud score, was it?Seventy! I was surprised it was as much!"

The two Sixth boys looked at him inquiringly. 

"The fact is, I never tried to answer, " said Loman, "and for a very goodreason. I suppose you know. "

"No--what?" asked they. 

"Haven't you heard? I thought it was all over the school. You heardabout the Doctor missing a paper?"

"Yes; what about it? Was it found, or lost, or what?"

"No one owned to having taken it, that's certain. "

"I should hope not. Not the sort of thing any fellow here would do. "

"That's just what I should have thought, " said Loman. "But the fact is, some one did take it--you can guess who--and you don't suppose I wasgoing to be fool enough to take any trouble over my answers when I knewone of the other fellows had had the paper in his pocket a day and ahalf before the exam. " And here Loman laughed. 

"Do you mean to say Greenfield stole it?" exclaimed both the friends atonce, in utter astonishment. 

"I mean to say you're not far wrong. But you'd better ask some of theFifth. It's all come out, I hear, there. "

"And you knew of it before the exam?"

"I guessed it; or you may be sure I'd have taken a little more troubleover my answers. It wasn't much use as it was. "

Loman had the satisfaction of seeing the two Sixth boys depart inamazement, and the still greater satisfaction of seeing them a littlelater in confidential conference with Simon, from whom he guessed prettycorrectly they would be sure to get a full "all-round" narrative of thewhole affair. 

"I'm all right with the Sixth, anyhow, " muttered he to himself. "I onlywish I was as right with that blackguard Cripps. "

"That blackguard Cripps" had, next afternoon, the peculiar pleasure ofwelcoming his young friend and patron under the hospitable roof of theCockchafer. As usual, he was as surprised as he was delighted at thehonour done him, and could not imagine for the life of him to what hewas indebted for so charming a condescension. In other words, he leftLoman to open the business as best he could. 

"I promised to come and tell you about the exam, didn't I?"

"Eh? Oh, yes, to be sure. That was last Saturday. Upon my word, I'dquite forgotten. "

Of course Loman knew this was false; but he had to look pleasant andanswer, "Well, you see, my memory was better than yours. "

"Right you are, young captain. And what about this here fifty-pounddicky-bird you've been after?"

"The Nightingale?" said Loman. "Oh, it's all right, of course; but thefact is, I forgot when I promised you the money now, that of coursethey--"

"Oh, come now, none of your gammon, " said Mr Cripps, angrily; "apromise is a promise, and I expect young swells as makes them to keepthem, mind that. "

"Oh, of course I'll keep them, Cripps. What I was saying was that theydon't pay you the money till the beginning of each year. "

Loman omitted to mention, as he had omitted to mention all along, thatyoung gentlemen who win scholarships do not, as a rule, have the moneythey win put into their hands to do as they like with. But this was atrifling slip of the memory, of course!

"I don't care when they pay you your money! All I know is I must havemine now, my young dandy. Next week the time's up. "

"But, Cripps, how _can_ I pay you unless I've got the money?"

"No, no; I've had enough of that, young gentleman. This time I'ma-going to have my way, or the governor shall know all about it, --yousee!"

"Oh, don't say that!" said Loman. "Wait a little longer and it will beall right, it really will. "

"Not a bit of it. That's what you said three months ago, " repliedCripps. 

"I won't ask you again, " pleaded the boy; "just this time, Cripps. "

"Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, that you ought, " exclaimedthe virtuous landlord of the Cockchafer, "a keeping a honest man out ofhis money!"

"Oh, but I'm certain to have it then--that is, next to certain. "

"Oh! then what you're telling me about this here Nightingale of yours isa lie, is it?" said the 'cute Mr Cripps. "You ain't got it at all, ain't you?"

Loman could have bitten his tongue off for making such a blunder. 

"A lie? No; that is--Why, Cripps, the fact is--" he stammered, becomingsuddenly very red. 

"Well, drive on, " said Cripps, enjoying the boy's confusion, and proudof his own sharpness. 

"The fact is--I was going to tell you, Cripps, I was really; there'sbeen something wrong about this exam. One of the fellows stole one ofthe papers, and so got the scholarship unfairly. "

"And I can make a pretty good guess, " said Mr Cripps, with a grin, "which of the fellows that gentleman was. "

"No, it wasn't me, Cripps, really, " said Loman, pale and quite humble inthe presence of his creditor; "it was one of the others--Greenfield inthe Fifth; the fellow, you know, who struck you on Saturday. "

"What, him?" exclaimed Cripps, astonished for once in a way. "Thatbloke? Why, he looked a honest sort of chap, he did, though I _do_ owehim one. "

"Oh, " said Loman, following up this temporary advantage, "he's a regularswindler, is Greenfield. He stole the paper, you know, and so won thescholarship, of course. I was certain of it, if it hadn't been forthat. I mean to have a row made about it, and there's certain to beanother exam, so that I'm sure of the money if you'll only wait. "

"And how long do you want me to wait, I'd like to know?" said Cripps. 

"Oh, till after Christmas, please, at any rate. It'll be all rightthen, I'll answer for that. "

"You'll answer for a lot of things, it strikes me, young gentleman, "said Cripps, "before you've done. "

There were signs of relenting in this speech which the boy was quick totake advantage of. 

"_Do_ wait till then!" he said, beseechingly. 

Cripps pretended to meditate. 

"I don't see how I can. I'm a poor man, got my rent to pay and allthat. Look here, young gentleman, I must have 10 pounds down, if I'm towait. "

"Ten pounds! I haven't as much in the world!" exclaimed Loman. "I cangive you five pounds, though, " he added. "I've just got a note fromhome to-day. "

"Five's no use, " said Cripps, contemptuously, "wouldn't pay not theinterest. You'll have to make it a tenner, young gentleman. "

"Don't say that, Cripps, I'd gladly do it if I could; I'd pay you everyfarthing, and so I will if you only wait. "

"That's just the way with you young swells. You get your own ways, andleave other people to get theirs best way they can. Where's yourfive-pound?"

Loman promptly produced this, and Cripps as promptly pocketed it, adding, "Well, I suppose I'll have to give in. How long do you say--twomonths?"

"Three, " said Loman. "Oh, thanks, Cripps, I really _will_ pay up then. "

"You'd better, because, mind you, if you don't, I shall walk straight tothe governor. Don't make any mistake about that. "

"Oh, yes, so you may, " said the wretched Loman, willing to promiseanything in his eagerness. 

Finally it was settled. Cripps was to wait three months longer; andLoman, although knowing perfectly well that there was absolutely lesschance then of having the money than there had been now, felt a weighttemporarily taken off his mind, and was all gratitude. 

Of course, he stayed a while as usual and tasted Mr Cripps's beer, andof course he met again not a few of his new friends--sharpers, most ofthem, of Cripps's own stamp, or green young gentlemen of the town, likeLoman himself. From one of the latter Loman had the extraordinary "goodluck" that afternoon to win three pounds over a wager, a sum which he atonce handed over to Cripps in the most virtuous way, in furtherliquidation of his debt. 

Indeed, as he left the place, and wandered slowly back to SaintDominic's, he felt quite encouraged. 

"There's eight pounds of it paid right off, " said he to himself; "andbefore Christmas something is sure to turn up. Besides, I'm sure to getsome more money from home between now and then. Oh, it'll be allright!"

So saying he tried to dismiss the matter from his mind and think ofpleasanter subjects, such, for instance, as Oliver's crime, and his ownclever use of it to delude the Sixth. 

Things altogether were looking up with Loman. Cheating, lying, andgambling looked as if they would pay after all!

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. 

AT COVENTRY. 

Were you ever at Coventry, reader? I don't mean the quaint oldWarwickshire city, but that other place where from morning till nightyou are shunned and avoided by everybody? Where friends with whom youwere once on the most intimate terms now pass you without a word, orlook another way as you go by? Where, whichever way you go, you findyourself alone? Where every one you speak to is deaf, every one youappear before is blind, every one you go near has business somewhereelse? Where you will be left undisturbed in your study for a week, tofag for yourself, study by yourself, disport yourself with yourself?Where in the playground you will be as solitary as if you were in thedesert, in school you will be a class by yourself, and even in church onSundays you will feel hopelessly out in the cold among yourfellow-worshippers?

If you have ever been to such a place, you can imagine OliverGreenfield's experiences during this Christmas term at Saint Dominic's. 

When the gentlemen of the Fifth Form had once made up their minds toanything, they generally carried it through with great heartiness, andcertainly they never succeeded better in any undertaking than in this of"leaving Oliver to himself. "

The only drawback to their success was that the proceeding appeared tohave little or no effect on the _very_ person on whose behalf it wasundertaken. Not that Oliver could be _quite_ insensible of the honourspaid him. He could not--they were too marked for that. And withoutdoubt they were as unpleasant as they were unmistakable. But, for anysign of unhappiness he displayed, the whole affair might have been amatter of supreme indifference to him. Indeed, it looked quite as muchas if Greenfield had sent the Fifth to Coventry as the Fifth Greenfield. If they determined none of them to speak to him, he was equallydetermined none of them should have the chance; and if it was part oftheir scheme to leave him as much as possible to himself, they hadlittle trouble in doing it, for he, except when inevitable, never camenear them. 

Of course this was dreadfully irritating to the Fifth! The moralrevenge they had promised themselves on the disgracer of their classnever seemed to come off. The wind was taken out of their sails atevery turn. The object of their aversion was certainly not reduced tohumility or penitence by their conduct; on the contrary, one or two ofthem felt decidedly inclined to be ashamed of themselves and feelfoolish when they met their victim. 

Oliver always had been a queer fellow, and he now came out in a queererlight than ever. 

Having once seen how the wind lay, and what he had to expect from theFifth, he altered the course of his life to suit the new circumstanceswith the greatest coolness. Instead of going up the river in a pair-oaror a four, he now went up in a sculling boat or a canoe, and seemed toenjoy himself quite as much. Instead of doing his work with Wraysfordevening after evening, he now did it undisturbed by himself, and, tojudge by his progress in class, more successfully than ever. Instead ofpractising with the fifteens at football, he went in for a regularcourse of practice in the gymnasium, and devoted himself with remarkablesuccess to the horizontal bar and the high jump. Instead of casting inhis lot in class with a jovial though somewhat distracting set, he nowkept his mind free for his studies, and earned the frequent commendationof the Doctor and Mr Jellicott. 

Now, reader, I ask you, if you had been one of the Fifth of SaintDominic's would not all this have been very riling? Here was a fellowconvicted of a shameful piece of deceit, caught, one might say, in thevery act, and by his own conduct as good as admitting it. Here was afellow, I say, whom every sensible boy ought to avoid, not only showinghimself utterly indifferent to the aversion of his class-fellows, butpositively thriving and triumphing before their very faces! Was it anywonder if they felt very sore, and increasingly sore on the subject ofOliver Greenfield?

One boy, of course, stuck to the exile through thick and thin. IfOliver had murdered all Saint Dominic's with slow poison, Stephen wouldhave stuck to him to the end, and he stuck to him now. He, at least, never once admitted that his brother was guilty. When slowly he firstdiscovered what were the suspicions of the Fifth, and what was thecommon talk of the school about Oliver, the small boy's indignation waspast description. He rushed to his brother. 

"Do you hear the lies the fellows are telling about you, Noll?"

"Yes, " said Oliver. 

"Why don't you stop it, and tell them?"

"What's the use? I've told them once. If they don't choose to believeit, they needn't. "

Any other boy would, of course, have taken this as clear evidence of theelder brother's guilt; but it only strengthened the small boy'sindignation. 

"_I'll_ let them know, if _you_ won't!" and forthwith he went andproceeded to make himself a perfect nuisance in the school. He beganwith Wraysford. 

"I say, Wray, " he demanded, "do you hear all the lies the fellows aretelling about Noll?"

"Don't make a row now, " said Wraysford, shortly. "I'm busy. " ButStephen had no notion of being put down. 

"The fellows say he stole an exam paper, the blackguards! I'd like topunch all their heads, and I will too!"

"Clear out of my study, now, " said Wraysford, sharply. 

Stephen stared at him a moment. Then his face grew pale as he graspedthe meaning of it all. 

"I say, Wray, surely _you_ don't believe it?" he cried. 

"Go away now, " was Wraysford's only answer. 

But this did not suit Stephen, his blood was up, and he meant to have itout. 

"Surely _you_ don't believe it?" he repeated, disregarding theimpatience of the other; "_you_ aren't a blackguard, like the rest?"

"Do you hear what I tell you?" said Wraysford. 

"No, and I don't mean to!" retorted the irate Stephen. "If you wereanything of a friend you'd stand up for Oliver. You're a beast, Wraysford, that's what you are!" continued he, in a passion. "You're ablackguard! you're a liar! I could kill you!"

And the poor boy, wild with rage and misery, actually flung himselfblindly upon his brother's old friend--the saviour of his own life. 

Wraysford was not angry. There was more of pity in his face than angeras he took the small boy by the arm and led him to the door. Stephen nolonger resisted. After giving vent to the first flood of his anger, misery got the upper hand of him, and he longed to go anywhere to hideit. He could have endured to know that Oliver was suspected by a goodmany of the fellows, but to find Wraysford among them was a cruel blow. 

But in due time his indignation again came to the fore, and he venturedon another crusade. This time it was to Pembury. He knew before hewent he had little enough to expect from the sharp-tongued editor of the_Dominican_, so he went hoping little. 

To his surprise, however, Pembury was kinder than usual. He told himplainly that he did suspect Oliver, and explained why, and advisedStephen, if he were wise, to say as little about Oliver as possible atpresent. The young champion was quite cowed by this unexpectedreception. He did his best to fly in a rage and be defiant, but it wasno use, and he retired woefully discomfited from the interview. 

Others to whom he applied, when once again his anger got the better ofhis wretchedness, met him with taunts, others with contempt, others withpositive unkindness; and after a week Stephen gave it up and retired indudgeon to the territory of the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles, determinedthat there at least he would, at the edge of the knuckle, if needs be, compel a faction to declare for his brother. 

In this undertaking, I need hardly say, he was eminently successful. There were those among the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles who were ready todeclare for anybody or anything as long as there was a chance of a rowon the head of it. Already the question of Greenfield senior had beenoccupying their magnificent minds. When the story first fell suddenlyinto their midst, it was so surprising that, like the frogs and the login the fable, they were inclined to be a little shy of it. But, gradually becoming accustomed to it, and looking carefully into it fromall sides, it seemed somehow to contain the promise of a jolly row, andtheir hearts warmed to it proportionally. No one quite liked to startthe thing at first, for fear doubtless of not doing it full justice, butit only wanted a spark to kindle the whole lower school on the questionof Greenfield senior. Stephen it was who supplied the spark. 

He entered the Fourth Juror room one day, after one of the unsuccessfulcrusades of which we have spoken, utterly cast down and out of humour. He flung his cap on to the peg, and himself on to his seat, in anunusually agitated manner, and then, to the astonishment of everybody, broke out into tears!

This was a rare and glorious opportunity, of course, for Bramble. 

"Beastly young blub-baby!" exclaimed that doughty hero, "you're alwaysblubbing! I never knew such a fellow to blub, did you, Padger?"

Padger said it was worse than the baby at home, and the two thereuponstarted a mocking caterwaul on their own account, in which not a few oftheir nearest and dearest friends joined. 

This performance had the effect of restoring Stephen's composure. Hastily dashing away his tears, he flew with unwonted wrath at hisenemy. Bramble, however, managed to get behind Padger and the rest, andthus fortified shouted out, "Yah, boo, howling young sucking pig! gohome to your mammy, or your great big cheat of a blackguard thief of acaddish big brother! Do you hear? Who stole the exam paper? Eh, Padger? Yah, boo, pack of sneaking Guinea-pigs!"

This last objurgation, which was quite unnecessary to the beauty orforce of the speech, gave rise to a huge tumult. 

The Guinea-pigs present took it up as a direct challenge to themselves, and it decided them instantly to declare in favour of Stephen and hisbig brother. Paul led the attack. 

"Shut up, you young cad, will you?" said he; "you know well enough _you_stole the paper. "

Of course no one, not even Paul himself, attached any meaning to such anabsurd accusation, but it came conveniently to hand. 

This declaration of war was promptly taken up on all sides, and for ashort period the Fourth Junior had a rather dusty appearance. When atlength a little order was restored, a lively discussion on the crime ofGreenfield senior ensued. The Tadpoles to a man believed in it, andgave it as their candid opinion that the fellow ought to be hung. "Yes, and expelled too!" added a few of the more truculent. 

The Guinea-pigs, on the other hand, whatever they thought, protestedvehemently that Greenfield senior was the most virtuous, heroic, saintly, and jolly fellow in all Saint Dominic's, and denounced theTadpoles and all the rest of the school as the most brutal ruffians inChristendom. 

"They ought all to be expelled, every one of them, " said one; "allexcept Greenfield senior, and I hope they will be. "

"All I know is, " said Paul, "I'll let them have a bit of my mind, someof them. "

"So will I, " said another. 

"You haven't got any to give 'em a bit of, " squealed Bramble, "so now!"

"All right, I'll give 'em a bit of _you_ then, " retorted Paul. 

"You wouldn't get any of them to touch him with a pair of tongs, " addedanother. 

This was too much for Bramble, and another brief period of dust ensued. Then, comparative quiet once more prevailing, Paul said, "I tell youwhat, _I_ mean to stick to Greenfield senior. "

"So do I, " said another youth, with his face all over ink. "I mean _tofag_ for him. "

"So do I!" shouted another. 

"So do I!" shouted another. 

And a general chorus of assent hailed the idea. 

"We'll all fag for him, I vote, eh, Stee?" said Paul, "the whole lot ofus! My eye, that'll be prime! Won't the others just about look blackand blue!"

It was a magnificent idea! And no sooner conceived than executed. 

There was a great rush of Guinea-pigs to Oliver's study. He was notthere. So much the better. They would give him a delightful surprise!

So they proceeded straightway to empty his cupboards and drawers, topolish up his cups, to unfold his clothes and fold them again, to takedown his books and put them up again, to upset his ink and mop it upwith one of his handkerchiefs, to make his tea and spill it on thefloor, to dirty his collars with their inky hands, to clean his bootswith his hat-brush, and many other thoughtful and friendly actscalculated to make the heart of their hero glad. 

In the midst of their orgies, Wraysford and Pembury passed the door, andstopped to look in, wondering what on earth the tumult was about. Butthey were greeted with such a storm of yells and hisses that they passedon, a little uneasy in their minds as to whether or no hydrophobia hadbroken out in Saint Dominic's. 

After them a detachment of Tadpoles, headed by Bramble appeared on thescene, for the purpose of mocking. But, whatever their purpose may havebeen, it was abandoned for more active opposition when Paul presentlyemptied a tumblerful of lukewarm tea in the face of Master Bramble. 

A notable battle was fought on the threshold of Greenfield senior'sstudy, in which many were wounded on both sides, and in the midst ofwhich Oliver arrived on the scene, kicking right and left, and causing ageneral rout. 

How their hero appreciated the attentions his admirers had paid himduring his absence the Guinea-pigs did not remain or return toascertain. They took for granted he was grateful, and bashfully keptout of the way of his thanks for a whole day. 

After that their enthusiasm returned, but this time it found a new vent. They decided that, although they would all fag for him to the end ofhis days, they would not for a season, at any rate, solicit jobs fromhim, but rather encourage him by their sympathy and applause at a morerespectful distance. 

So they took to cheering him in the playground, and following him downthe passages. And this not being enough, they further relievedthemselves by hooting (at a respectful distance also) the chiefs of thesenior school, whose opinions on the question of Greenfield senior wereknown not to agree with their own. 

If Oliver was not grateful for all this moral support in his trouble, hemust have been a villain indeed of the deepest dye. He never said in somany words he was grateful; but then the Guinea-pigs remembered thatfeelings are often too deep and too many for words, and so took forgranted the thanks which their consciences told them they deserved. 

Meanwhile a fresh number of the _Dominican_ was in progress, and rapidlynearing the hour of publication. 

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. 

THE "DOMINICAN" ON THE SITUATION. 

The examination at the beginning of the term had seriously interferedwith the prospects of the _Dominican_. Pembury knew well enough it wasno good trying to get anything out of the diligent section of hisclass-fellows at such a time; and he knew equally well that a numbercontributed entirely by the idlers of the Fifth would neither becreditable to the paper nor appreciated by any one outside. 

So like a prudent man he held back patiently till the examinations wereover, and then pounced down on his men with redoubled importunity. 

"Look here, " said he one day to Ricketts, "when are you going to let mehave that paper of yours?"

"What paper do you mean?" demanded Ricketts. 

"Why for the _Dominican_, of course; you don't suppose I want one ofyour cast-off exam papers, do you?"

"Oh, I can't do anything for the _Dominican_ this time, " said Ricketts. 

"Yes, you can, and yes, you will, " coolly replied Anthony. 

"Who says I will?" demanded Ricketts, inclined to be angry. 

"It sounds as if _I_ do, " replied the editor. "Why of course you'll dosomething for it, Rick?"

"I'd be glad enough, but really I'm not in the humour, " said Ricketts. 

"Why ever not?" demanded Tony. 

"Why, the fact is, " said Ricketts, "I fancy the Fifth is not exactlylooking up at present, and we've nothing particular to be proud of. Ifyou take my advice you'll keep the _Dominican_ quiet for a bit. "

"My dear fellow, that's the very thing we mustn't do. Don't you see, you old duffer you, that if we shut up shop and retire into privatelife, everybody will be thinking we daren't hold up our heads? I meanto hold up my head, for one, " added Tony, proudly, "if there were athousand Greenfields in the class; and I mean to make you hold up yourstoo, old man. It'll be time enough to do the hang-dog business when weall turn knaves; but till we do, we've as good a right to be known atSaint Dominic's as anybody else. So none of your humbug, Rick. We'llget out an extra good _Dominican_, and let the fellows see we're aliveand kicking. "

This speech had the required effect. It not only won over Ricketts, butmost of the other leading spirits of the Fifth, who had been similarlyholding back. 

Tony was not the fellow to let an advantage go by. Having once got hismen into a becoming frame of mind, he kept them well in hand and workedthem up into something like the old enthusiasm on the subject of the_Dominican_. 

Every one was determined the present number should be an out-and-outgood one, and laboured and racked his brains accordingly. 

But somehow or other the fellows had never found it so hard, first toget inspirations, and then to put them down on paper, as they did atpresent. Every one thought he had something very fine and very cleverto say if he could only find expression for it. The amount ofbrain-cudgelling that went on over this _Dominican_ was simply awful. Wraysford gave it up in disgust. Ricketts, Bullinger, Tom Senior, andothers stumbled through their tasks, and could only turn out lameproductions at the best. Even Pembury's lucubrations lacked a good dealof their wonted dash and spirit. The cloud which was hanging over theFifth seemed to have overshadowed its genius for a while. 

Still Pembury kept his men at it and gave them no peace till theirproductions, such as they were, were safe in his hands. One boy onlywas equal to the emergency; that I need hardly say was Simon. He wasindeed more eloquent than ever. He offered Pembury a poem of fortyverses, entitled, "An Elegy on the Wick of a Candle that had just beenblown out, " to begin with, and volunteered to supplement thiscontribution with one or two smaller pieces, such as, "My Little Lark, "or "An Adventure outside the Dormitory Door, " or "Mind Mewsings. "

Pembury prudently accepted all, and said he would insert what he thoughtfit, an assurance which delighted Simon, who immediately sat down andwrote some more "pieces, " in case at the last moment there might be roomfor them too. But, in spite even of these valuable contributions, the_Dominican_ fell flat. There were a few good things in it here andthere, but it was far below its ordinary form; and not a few of thewriters repented sorely that ever they had put pen to paper to helpproduce it. 

The chief amusement of the paper was contained in a "New Code ofRegulations for the Better Management of Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles, " fromthe editor's pen. It began thus:

"A society has lately been started at Saint Dominic's for thepreservation and management of Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles. The followingare some of the rules to be observed:--

"Any one owning a Guinea-pig or Tadpole is to be responsible for washingit with soap and hot water at least twice a day. 

"Any one owning a Guinea-pig or Tadpole is to supply the rest of theschool with cotton wool and scent. 

"No Guinea-pig or Tadpole is on any account to use hair oil or greasewhich has not been sanctioned by a joint committee of the Fifth, Sixth, and masters. 

"During the approaching winter, every one possessing a Guinea-pig orTadpole shall be at liberty, providing it is regularly washed, to use itas a warming-pan for his own bed. "

The small tribe of furious juniors who as usual had crowded round thepaper on the morning of publication to get "first read, " broke forth atthis point into a howl of exasperation. 

"They won't! I'll see they won't use me as a warming-pan, won't you, Padger? The brutes! I'll bite their horrid cold feet if they stickthem against me, that's what I'll do. "

"I'll keep a pin to stick into them, " said another. 

"I'll get some leeches and put on their legs, " shouted another. 

"I'll tell you what, " said Stephen, changing the subject, "it's coolcheek of them calling us `it, ' as if we were things. "

"So they have, " exclaimed Paul; "oh, I say, that's too much; I'll letthem know _I'm_ not a thing. "

"Yes, you are a thing, isn't he, Padger? A regular _it_, " exclaimed thevindictive Bramble. "Yah, boo, old `_its_, ' both of you. "

"Hold hard, " said some one, just as the usual hostilities were about tocommence. "Listen to this. " And he read the next "regulation":--

"Immediate steps are to be taken to pickle a Tadpole as a specimen forthe school museum. The following is a recipe for this. Take theugliest, dirtiest, noisiest, and most ignorant specimen that can befound. Lift it carefully with a pair of tongs into a bath full ofvinegar. Close the lid and let it remain there to soak for a week. Atthe end of that time lift it out and scrape it well all over with asharp substance, to get off the first coating of grime. Soak again foranother week and scrape again, and so on till the ninth or tenth coatingis removed. After that the creature will appear thinner than when itbegan. Hang it up to dry in a clean place, and be sure no otherGuinea-pigs or Tadpoles come near it. Then put it in a clean gown, andquickly, before it can get at the ink, put it in a large glass bottleand fasten down the stopper. Label it, `Specimen of a curious reptileformerly found at Saint Dominic's. Now happily extinct. '"

"There you are, " said Paul, when, after much blundering and sticking atwords, this remarkable paragraph had been read through. "There you are, Bramble, my boy; what do you think of that?" Bramble had no difficultyin intimating what he thought of it in pretty strong language, and forsome little time the further reading of the _Dominican_ was suspended. 

When, however, the row was over, the group had been joined by several ofthe elder boys, who appeared to appreciate Simon's poem, "An Adventureoutside the Dormitory Door. " It was called an "epick, " and began thus. The reader must be contented with quite a short extract:--

 "Outside the Dormitory door I walked me slow upon the floor And just outside the Doctor's study A youth I met all in a hurry; His name perhaps I had better not tell But like a snail retire into my shell. "

This last simile had evidently particularly delighted the poet. So muchso, that he brought it in at the close of every succeeding verse. The"epick" went on, of course, to unravel the threads of the "adventure, "and to intimate pretty plainly who "the youth" referred to was. To anyone not interested in the poet or his epic the production was a dullone, and the moral at the end was not quite clear even to the mostintellectual. 

 "Now I must say farewell; yet stay, methinks How many many youths do sit on brinks. Oh joy to feel the soft breeze sigh And in the shady grove to wipe the eye, It makes me feel a man I know full well, But like a snail I'll now retire within my shell. "

These were the only articles in the _Dominican_ that afforded anyamusement. The remainder of the paper, made up of the usual articlessneering at the Sixth and crowing over the school generally, were verytame. The result of the Nightingale Scholarship was announced asfollows:--

 "The examination for the Nightingale Scholarship was held on the 1st October. The scholarship was lost by Loman of the Sixth by 70 marks to 97. A good performance on the whole. "

This manner of announcing the unfortunate result was ingenious, and didTony credit. For, whether his object was to annoy the Sixth or toshield the Fifth, he succeeded amply in both. There were some, however, in the Fifth who were by no means content that Greenfield should be letoff so easily in the _Dominican_, and these read with interest thefollowing "Notes from Coventry, " contributed by Bullinger. Anthony hadaccepted and inserted them against his better judgment. 

"If the fellow is at Coventry, why not let him stay there?" he said toBullinger. "The best thing we can possibly do is to let him alone. "

"I don't see it, " said Bullinger. "Everybody will think we are tryingto shield him if we keep so quiet. Anyhow, here's my paper. You canput it in or not, which you like. I'm not going to write anythingelse. "

Pembury took the paper and put it in. The reader may like to hear a fewof the "Notes from Coventry. "

"The quaint old city of Coventry has lately been visited by a`gentleman' from Saint Dominic's, who appears so charmed with all he hasseen and heard that it is expected he will remain there for someconsiderable time. 

"The object of his visit is of a private nature, possibly for thepurpose of scientific research, for which absolute quiet is necessary. His experiments are chiefly directed to the making or taking ofexamination papers, and on his return we may look for valuablediscoveries. Meanwhile he sees very little company. The society inwhich he most delights is that of certain Guinea-pigs, between whom andhimself a special bond of sympathy appears to exist. It is a touchingsight to see him taking his daily walks in company with these singularanimals; who, be it said, seem to be the only creatures able toappreciate his character. Curiously enough, since he left us, SaintDominic's has not collapsed; indeed, it is a singular fact that now heis away it is no longer considered necessary for every fellow to lockhis study-door when he goes out, and keep the key. " And so on. 

Miserable stuff indeed, as Stephen thought, but quite stinging enough towound him over and over again as he saw the sneers and heard the laughswith which the reading of the extract was greeted. Everybody evidentlywas against his brother, and, with a deep disgust and fury at his heart, he left them to laugh by themselves and returned to Oliver's study. 

He found his brother in what were now his usual cheerful spirits. Forafter the first week or so of his being sent to Coventry, Oliver, in hisown study at least, kept up a cheerful appearance. 

"Hullo, Stee, " said he as the young brother entered. "You're just intime. Here's a letter from mother. "

"Is there? How jolly! Read it out, Noll. "

So Oliver read it out. It was an ordinary, kind, motherly epistle, suchas thousands of schoolboys get every week of the school year. All abouthome, and what is going on, how the dogs are, where sister Mary has beento, how the boiler burst last week, which apple-tree bore most, and soon; every scrap of news that could be scraped up from the four winds ofheaven was in that letter. 

And to the two brothers, far away, and lonely even among theirschoolfellows, it came like a breath of fresh air that morning. 

"I have been so proud, " went on Mrs Greenfield towards the end of theletter, "ever since I heard of dear Oliver's success in winning thescholarship. Not so much for the value of it, though that is prettyconsiderable, but because I am so sure he deserves it. "

"Hear, hear!" put in Stephen. 

"Poor Mr Wraysford! I hope he is not very much disappointed. How niceit would have been if there had been two scholarships, and each couldhave had one! I suppose the Fifth is making quite a hero of Oliver. Iknow one foolish old woman who would like to be with her boys thismoment to share their triumph. "

Oliver laughed bitterly. 

"That _would_ be a treat for her!"

Stephen, very red in the face, was too furious for words, so Oliver wenton:

"And if, instead of triumph, they should ever be in trouble or sorrow, still more would I love to be with them, to share it. But most of alldo I trust and pray they may both make a constant friend of the Saviour, who wants us all to cast our burdens on Him, and follow the example Hehas left us in all things. "

There was a silence for some moments after this home message fell on thebrothers' ears. The hearts of both were full--too full for words--but Ithink, had the widow-mother far away been able to divine the secretthoughts of her boys, hope would have mingled with all her pity and allher solicitude on their account. 

But the old trouble, for the present at any rate, was destined to swampall other emotions. 

Oliver continued reading: "Christmas will not be so very long now incoming. We must have a real snug, old-fashioned time of it here. UncleHenry has promised to come, and your cousins. It would be nice if youcould persuade Mr Wraysford to come here then. I am so anxious to seehim again. Tell him from me I reckon on him to be one of our party ifhe can possibly manage it. "

"Baa!" exclaimed Stephen. "The beast! I'll let her know what sort ofblackguard the fellow is!"

"Easy all, young 'un, " said Oliver. 

"I shan't easy all, Noll!" exclaimed the boy; "he _is_ a blackguard, youknow he is, and I hate him. "

"I think he's a fool just now, " said Oliver, "but--well, he fished youout of the Thames, Stee; you oughtn't to call him a blackguard. "

"I wish he'd left me in the Thames, " said Stephen, nearly breaking down. "I've been miserable enough this term for half a dozen. "

Oliver looked hard and long at his young brother. It never seemed tohave occurred to him before how deeply the boy took the trouble of hiselder brother to heart. 

Now if Oliver had really been innocent, the natural thing would havebeen--wouldn't it?--for him to be quite cut up at this exhibition offeeling, and fall on his brother's neck and protest once more that henever did or would or could do such a thing as that he was suspected of. But instead of this, the hardened villain turned quite cross when hesaw his brother at the point of tears, and exclaimed, hurriedly, "Don'tmake a young fool of yourself, Stee, whatever you do. It won't do a bitof good. "

"But, Noll, old man, " pleaded the boy, "why ever don't you--"

"Because I don't choose, and it would be no use if I did, " retorted theother. 

"But the fellows all suspect you!"

"I can't help that, if they do. Come now, Stee, we've had enough ofthis. It'll all come right some day, you see, and meanwhile what do yousay to a turn in the gymnasium?"

"Well, but, " persisted Stephen, not half satisfied, "you surely aren'tgoing to give mother's message to Wraysford? _I_ don't want him home atChristmas. "

"No one asked you if you did, you young duffer. But I don't think, allthe same, I shall give it just yet. "

They were walking down the big passage arm-in-arm in the direction ofthe gymnasium, and as Oliver spoke these last words the subject of theirconversation appeared advancing towards them. 

Who could have believed that those three friends who only a month or twoago were quoted all over Saint Dominic's as inseparables could ever meetand pass one another as these three met and passed one another now?

Wraysford coloured as he caught sight of his old ally, and lookedanother way. Oliver, more composed, kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, and appeared to be completely unconscious of the presence of any one butStephen, who hung on to his arm, snorting and fuming and inwardly raginglike a young tiger held in by the chain from his prey. 

An odd meeting indeed, and a miserable one; yet to none of the three somiserable as to the injured Wraysford, who ever since the day of theNightingale examination had not known a happy hour at Saint Dominic's. 

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. 

MR CRIPPS AT SAINT DOMINIC'S. 

Oliver Greenfield's banishment from civilised society, however much itmay have gratified the virtuous young gentlemen of the Fifth, wasregarded by a small section of fellows in the Sixth with unmitigateddisgust. These fellows were the leading spirits of the Saint DominicFootball Club, which was just about to open proceedings for the season. To them the loss of the best half-back in the school was a desperatecalamity. 

They raged and raved over the matter with all the fury of disappointedenthusiasts. _They_ didn't care a bit, it almost seemed, whether thefellow was a cheat or not. All they knew was, he was the quickesthalf-back and the safest drop-kick the school had, and here was thematch with Landfield coming on, and, lo and behold! their man was inCoventry, forsooth, and not to be had out for love or money. Thusbaulked, the Sixth Form athletes could afford to wax very virtuous andphilanthropic on the subject of Coventry generally. 

"The Doctor ought to put a stop to it, " said Stansfield, who this yearoccupied the proud position of captain of the fifteen. 

"Why, we've not got a single man worth twopence behind the scrimmage!"

This was gratifying for Loman, one of the council of war, who usuallyplayed quarter or half-back in the matches. 

"I don't see why we shouldn't get him to play if he _is_ at Coventry, "said Callonby; "_we_ didn't send him there. "

"All very well, " said the captain; "if we got him we should loseRicketts, and Bullinger, and Tom Senior, and Braddy, which would come toabout the same thing. "

"And I shouldn't play either, " said Loman, "if Greenfield played. "

Stansfield shrugged his shoulders and looked vicious. 

"All child's play!" said he. "They think it's very grand and a finespectacle and all that. But they ought to have more consideration forthe credit of the school. "

"It's not much to the credit of the school, " said Loman, "to have afellow like him in the fifteen. "

"It's less credit to have a pack of louts who tumble head over heelsevery time they try to pick up a ball, and funk a charge twice out ofevery thrice!" retorted Stansfield, who was one of the peppery order. "Greenfield's worth any half-dozen of you, I tell you. "

"Better get him to play Landfield by himself, " growled Loman, whogenerally got the worst of it in discussions like this. 

"It's a plaguey nuisance, that's what it is, " said Stansfield; "we aresure to get licked. Who's to play half-back instead of him, I'd like toknow?"

"Forrester, in the Fourth, plays a very good half-back, " said Callonby;"he's tremendously quick on his feet. "

"Yes, but he can't kick. I've a good mind to put Wraysford in theplace. And yet he's such a rattling steady `back' I don't like to movehim. "

"Wraysford told me yesterday, " said Wren, "he wasn't going to play. "

"What!" exclaimed Stansfield, starting up as if he had been shot. "Wraysford not going to play!"

"So he said, " replied Wren. 

"Oh, this is a drop too much! Why ever not?"

"I don't know. He's been awfully down in the mouth lately; whether itis about the Nightingale, or--"

The captain gave a howl of rage. 

"I wish that miserable brute of a Nightingale had been scragged, that Ido! Everything's stopped for the Nightingale! Who cares a button aboutthe thing, I'd like to know? Wraysford can get dozens more of themafter the football season's over. Why, the Doctor gave out anotherscholarship to be gone in for directly after Christmas, only to-day. Can't he go in for that?"

"So he will, I expect, " said Wren; "but I don't fancy he'll play, allthe same, on Saturday. "

Stansfield groaned. "There go my two best men, " he said; "we may aswell shut up shop and go in for croquet. "

A powerful deputation waited on Wraysford that same evening to try toprevail upon him to play in the fifteen. They had hard work to do it. He said he was out of form, and didn't feel in the humour, and wascertain they could get on well enough without him. 

"Oh, no, we can't, " said Stansfield. "I say, Wraysford, " he added, bluntly, "I expect it's this Nightingale affair's at the bottom of allthis nonsense. Can't you possibly patch it up, at any rate till afterSaturday? I'd give my head to get you and Greenfield in the team. "

"Do play, Wraysford, " put in Callonby. "Don't let the school be beatenjust because you've got a row on with another fellow. "

"It's not that at all, " said Wraysford, feeling and looking veryuncomfortable. "It's nothing to do with that. It's just that I'm notin the humour. I'd really rather not. "

"Oh, look here, " cried Stansfield; "that won't wash. Come to oblige me, there's a good fellow. "

In the end Wraysford gave in, and the captain went off half consoled tocomplete his preparations, and inveigh in his odd moments against allNightingales and Coventrys, and examinations, and all such enemies andstumbling-blocks to the glorious old English sport of football. 

Loman looked forward to the coming match with quite good spirits. Indeed, it was a long time since he had felt or appeared solight-hearted. 

That very day he had received a most unexpected present in the shape ofa five-pound note from an aunt, which sum he had promptly and virtuouslyput into an envelope and sent down to Mr Cripps in further liquidationof his "little bill. " Was ever such luck? And next week the usualremittance from home would be due; there would be another three or fourpounds paid off. Loman felt quite touched at the thought of his ownhonesty and solvency. If only everybody in the world paid their debtsas he did, what a happy state of things it would be for the country!

So, as I said, Loman looked forward to the football match in quite goodspirits, just as a man who has been working hard and anxiously foreleven long months looks forward to his well-earned summer holiday. Things were looking up with him, and no mistake. 

And then, just like his luck, the Doctor had that same day made theannouncement, already referred to, of another scholarship to be competedfor directly after Christmas. It was for Sixth form boys underseventeen, and he meant to go in for it! True, this scholarship wasonly for twenty pounds for a single year, but that was something. Asfar as he could see, Wraysford, who would get his move up at Christmas, would be the only man in against him, if he did go in, and he fancied hecould beat Wraysford. For in the Nightingale exam he had not reallytried his best, but this time he would and astonish everybody. Greenfield would scarcely go in for this exam, even if he got his moveup; it was safe to conclude his recent exploit would suffice him in theway of exams, for some time to come. 

And then, what could be more opportune than its coming off just afterChristmas, at the precise time when Cripps would be looking for a finalsettlement of his account, or whatever little of it remained still topay! Oh, dear! oh, dear! What a thing it is to be straight and honest!Everything prospers with a man when he goes in for being honest! Why, Loman was positively being bathed in luck at the present time!

The Saturday came at last. Stansfield had drilled his men as well as hecould during the interval, and devoutly hoped that he had got arespectable team to cope with the Landfield fellows. If he could onlyhave been sure of his half-back he would have been quite happy; andnever a practice passed without his growling louder than ever at thedisgraceful custom of sending useful behind-scrimmage men to Coventry. At the last moment he decided to give the responsible post to Loman, rather than move forward Wraysford from his position at "back"; andLoman's usual place at quarter-back was filled up by young Forrester ofthe Fourth, greatly to that young gentleman's trepidation and to theexultation of the Fourth Senior as a body, who felt terrifically puffedup to have one of their men actually in the first fifteen. 

Some of my readers may perhaps know from actual experience what are thenumerous and serious anxieties which always beset the captain of thefootball fifteen. If the fellow is worth his salt he knows to a nicetywhere he is strong and where he is weak; he knows, if the wind blows oneway, which is the best quarter-back to put on the left and which on theright. He knows which of his "bulldogs" he can safely put into themiddle of the scrimmage, and which are most useful in the second tier. He knows when to call "Kick!" to a man and when to call "Run!" and noman knows better when to throw the ball far out from touch, or when tonurse it along close to the line. It is all very well for outsiders totalk of football everlastingly as a _game_. My dear, good people, football is a science if ever there was a science; the more you know ofit the more you will find that out. 

This piece of lecturing is thrown in here for the purpose of observingthat Stansfield was a model football captain. However worried andworrying and crabby he was in his ordinary clothes, in his football togsand on the field of battle he was the coolest, quickest, readiest, andcunningest general you could desire. He said no more than he couldhelp, and never scolded his men while play was going on, and, best ofall, worked like a horse himself in the thick of the fight, and lookedto every one else to do the same. 

Yet on this Saturday all the captain's prowess and generalship could notwin the match for Saint Dominic's against Landfield. 

The match began evenly, and for the first half of the time the game wasone long succession of scrimmages in the middle of the ground, fromwhich the ball hardly ever escaped, and when it did, escaped only to bedriven back next moment into the "mush. "

"It'll do at this rate!" thinks Stansfield to himself. "As long as theykeep it among the forwards we shan't hurt. "

Alas! one might almost have declared some tell-tale evil spirit hadheard the boast and carried it to the ear of the enemy, for next momenthalf-time was called, the sides changed over, and with them theLandfielders completely reversed their tactics. 

The game was no longer locked up in a scrimmage in the middle of theground. It became looser all along the line; the ball began to slipthrough the struggling feet into the hands of those behind, who sent itshooting over the heads of the forwards into more open ground. Thequarter-backs and half-backs on either side ran and got round thescrimmages; and when at last they were collared, took to ending up withan expiring drop-kick, which sent the ball far in the direction of thecoveted goals. 

Nothing could have happened worse for Saint Dominic's, for the strainfell upon them just at their weakest point. Stansfield groaned as hesaw chance after chance missed behind his scrimmages. Young Forresterplayed pluckily and hard at quarter-back, and shirked nothing; but hecould not kick, and his short runs were consequently of little use. Callonby, of course, did good work, but Loman, the half-back, waswoefully unsteady. 

"What a jackass I was to put the fellow there!" said Stansfield tohimself. 

And yet Loman, as a rule, was a good player, with plenty of dash and nota little courage. It was odd that to-day he should be showing suchspecially bad form. 

There goes the ball again, clean over the forwards' heads, straight forhim! He is going to catch it and run! No; he is not! He is going totake a flying kick! No, he is not; he is going to make his mark! No, he is not; he is going to dribble it through! Now if there is one thingfatal to football it is indecision. If you wobble about, so to speak, between half a dozen opinions, you may just as well sit down on theground where you are and let the ball go to Jericho. Loman getsflurried completely, and ends by giving the ball a miserable side-kickinto touch--to the extreme horror of everybody and the unmitigateddisgust of the peppery Stansfield. 

Yet had the captain and his men known the cause of all this--had theybeen aware that that flash, half-tipsy cad of a fellow who, with half adozen of his "pals, " was watching the match with a critical air, thereat the ropes was the landlord of the Cockchafer himself, the holder ofLoman's "little bill" for 30 pounds, they would perhaps have understoodand forgiven their comrade's clumsiness. But they did not. 

Whatever had brought Cripps there? A thousand possibilities flashedthrough Loman's mind as he caught sight of his unwelcome acquaintance inthe middle of the match. Was he come to make a row about his moneybefore all the school? or had anything fresh turned up, or what? Andwhy on earth did he bring those other cads with him, all of whom Lomanrecognised as pot-house celebrities of his own acquaintance? No wonderif the boy lost his head and became flurried!

He felt miserable every time the ball flew over to Cripps's side of theground. There was a possibility the landlord of the Cockchafer had onlycome up out of curiosity, and, if so, might not have recognised hisyoung friend among the players. But this delusion was soon dispelled. 

The ball went again into touch--this time close to the spot occupied bythe unwelcome group, and was about to be thrown out. 

Stansfield signalled to Loman. "Go up nearer the line: close up. "

Loman obeyed, and as he did so there fell on his ears, in familiartones, the noisy greeting, "What cheer, Nightingale? What cheer, myhearty? Stick to your man; eh, let him have it, Mr Loman! Two to onein half-sovereigns on Mr Loman. "

A laugh greeted this encouraging appeal, in the midst of which Loman, knowing full well every one had heard every word, became completelydisconcerted, and let the ball go through his fingers as if it had beenquicksilver. 

This was too much for Stansfield's patience. 

"Go up forward, for goodness' sake, " he exclaimed, "if you must play thefool! I'll go half-back myself. "

Loman obeyed like a lamb, only too glad to lose himself in thescrimmages and escape observation. 

The match went on--worse and worse for Saint Dominic's. DespiteStansfield's gallant efforts at half-back (where he had never playedbefore), despite Wraysford's steady play in goal, the ball worked upnearer and nearer the Dominican lines. 

The Landfield men were quick enough to see the weak point of theirenemies, and make use of the discovery. They played fast and loose, giving the ball not a moment's peace, and above all avoiding scrimmages. The Saint Dominic's forwards were thus made practically useless, andthe brunt of the encounter fell on the four or five players behind, andthey were not equal to it. 

The calamity comes at last. One of the Landfield men gets hold of theball, and runs down hard along the touch-line. Forrester is thequarter-back that side, and gallant as the Fourth Form boy is, his bigopponent runs over him as a mastiff runs over a terrier. 

Stansfield, anticipating this, is ready himself at half-back, and itwill go hard with him indeed if he does not collar his man. Alas! justas the Landfielder comes to close quarters, and the Saint Dominic'scaptain grips him round the waist, the ball flies neatly back into thehands of another of the enemy, who, amid the shouts of his own men andthe crowd, makes off with it like fury, with a clear field before him, and only Wraysford between him and the Dominican goal. 

"Look-out behind there!"

No need of such a caution to a "back" like Wraysford. He is lookingout, and has been looking out ever since the match began. 

But if he had the eyes of an Argus, and the legs of an Atlas, he couldnot prevent that goal. For the Landfield man has no notion of coming toclose quarters; he is their crack drop-kick, and would be an ass indeedif he did not employ his talent with such a chance as this. He onlyruns a short way. Then he slackens pace. Wraysford rushes forward infront, the pursuing host rush on behind, but every one sees how it willbe. The fellow takes a deliberate drop-kick at the goal, and up fliesthe ball as true as a rocket, clean over the posts, as certain a goal asSaint Dominic's ever lost! It was no use crying over spilt milk, andfor the rest of the game Stansfield relaxed no efforts to stay the tideof defeat. And he succeeded too, for though the ball remaineddangerously near the school goal, and once or twice slipped behind, theenemy were unable to make any addition to their score before "Time" wascalled. 

When the match was over, Loman tried his best to slip away unobserved byhis respectable town acquaintances; but they were far too polite toallow him. 

"Well, " cried Mr Cripps, coolly joining the boy as he walked with theother players back to the school--"well, you _do_ do it, you do. Blessme! I call that proper sport, I do. What do you put on the game, bobsor sovereigns, eh? Never mind, I and my pals we wanted a dander, so wethought we'd look you up, eh? You know Tommy Granger here? I heard himsaying as we came along he wondered what you'd stand to drink after itall. "

All Loman could do was to stand still as soon as this talk began, andtrust his schoolfellows would walk on, and so miss all Mr Cripps'sdisgusting familiarities. 

"I say, " whispered he, in an agitated voice, "for goodness' sake goaway, Cripps! I shall get into an awful row if you don't. "

"Oh, all serene, my young bantam, " replied Cripps, aloud, and still inthe hearing of not a few of the boys. "I'll go if you want it soparticular as all that. _I_ can tear myself away. Only mind you comeand give us a look up soon, young gentleman, for I and my pals ain'tseen you for a good while now, and was afraid something was up. Ta! ta!Good-day, young gentlemen all. By-bye, my young Nightingales. "

Loman's feelings can be more easily imagined than expressed when Cripps, saying these words, held out his hand familiarly to be shaken. The boydid shake it, as one would shake hands with a wolf, and then, utterlyashamed and disgraced, he made his way among his wondering schoolfellowsup to the school. 

Was this his luck, after all? A monitor known to be the companion andfamiliar friend of the disreputable cad at the Cockchafer! The boy who, if not liked, had yet passed among most of his schoolfellows as asteady, well-conducted fellow, now suddenly shown up before the wholeschool like this!

Loman went his way to his study, feeling that the mask was pretty nearlyoff his face at last, and that Saint Dominic's knew him almost as hereally was. Yet did they know all?

As Loman passed Greenfield's study he stopped and peeped in at the door. The owner was sitting in his armchair, with his feet upon themantelpiece, laughing over a volume of _Pickwick_ till the tears came. And yet the crime Oliver was suspected of was theft and lying? Was itnot strange--must it not have struck Loman as strange, in all hismisery, that any one under such a cloud as Greenfield could think oflaughing, while _he_, under a cloud surely no greater, felt the mostmiserable boy alive!

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. 

A QUEER PRIZE-DAY. 

The long Christmas term crawled slowly on unsatisfactorily to everybody. It was unsatisfactory to Loman, who, after the football match, discovered that what little popularity or influence he ever had wasfinally gone. It was unsatisfactory to Wraysford, who, not knowingwhether to be ashamed of himself or wroth with his old friend, settleddown to be miserable for the rest of the term. It was unsatisfactory tothe Fifth, who felt the luck was against them, and that the cloudoverhead seemed to have stuck there for good. It was unsatisfactory toStephen, who raged and fretted twenty times a day on his brother'sbehalf, and got no nearer putting him right than when he began. Andundoubtedly it must have been unsatisfactory to Oliver, a banished man, forgetting almost the use of tongue and ears, and, except his brother, not being able to reckon on a single friend at Saint Dominic's outsidethe glorious community of the Guinea-pigs. 

In fact, the only section in the school to whom the term wassatisfactory, was these last-named young gentlemen and their sworn foes, the Tadpoles. 

Now, at last, they had a clear issue before them--Greenfield senior, washe a hero or was he a blackguard? There was no mistaking sides there. There was no unpleasant possibility of having to make common cause andproclaim an armistice. No! on the question of Greenfield senior, Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles had something to fight about from morning tillnight, and therefore _they_, at any rate, were happy!

"Jellicott, " said Dr Senior one day, as the masters met for fiveminutes' talk in the head master's study, "Greenfield in the Fifth isnot well, I'm afraid. I never see him out in the playground. "

"Really?" said Mr Jellicott. "I'm so rarely out there that I haven'tnoticed. I believe, however, he is quite well. "

"I hope he is not overworking, " said the Doctor. "He has done so verywell this term that it would be a pity if he spoiled his chance byknocking himself up. "

"Greenfield senior, " put in Mr Rastle, "appears to be unpopular just atpresent; at least, so I gather from what I have heard. I don't knowwhat crime he has committed, but the tribunal of his class have beenvery severe on him, I fancy. "

The Doctor laughed. 

"Boys will be boys! Well, it's a relief if that's the solution of themystery, for I was afraid he was ill. We have no right to interferewith these boyish freaks, as long as they are not mischievous. But youmight keep your eye on the little comedy, Jellicott. It would be a pityfor it to go too far. "

Mr Jellicott did keep his eye on the little comedy, and came to theconclusion that, whatever Greenfield had done, he was being prettyseverely paid out. He reported as much to the Doctor, who, however, still deprecated interference. 

"We might only make things worse, " said he, "by meddling. Things likethis always right themselves far better than an outsider can right them. Besides, as Greenfield will get his move up after Christmas, he will beless dependent on the good graces of his present class-fellows. "

And so the matter ended for the present, as far as the masters wereconcerned. The reader will, perhaps, feel very indignant, and declarethe Doctor was neglecting his duty in treating so serious a matter solightly. He ought (some one says) to have investigated the whole affairfrom beginning to end, and made sure what was the reason of the Fifth'sdispleasure and of Oliver's disgrace. In fact, when one comes to thinkof it, it is a marvel how the Doctor had not long ago guessed who tookthe lost examination paper, and treated the criminal accordingly. 

Christmas prize-day was always a great event at Saint Dominic's. For, as all the examinations had been held at the beginning of the term, allthe rewards were naturally distributed at the end of it. 

Fellows who were leaving made on these occasions their last appearancebefore their old companions. Fellows who had earned their removesfigured now for the last time as members of their old classes; andfellows who had distinguished themselves during the last year generallywere patted on the back by the masters and cheered by theirschoolfellows, and made much of by their sisters, and cousins, andaunts. 

For ladies turned up at the Christmas prize-day at Saint Dominic's;ladies, and big brothers, and old boys, and the school governors, withthe noble Earl at their head to give away the prizes. It was a greatoccasion. The school was decorated with flags and evergreens; Sundaytogs were the order of the day; the Doctor wore his scarlet hood, andthe masters their best gowns. The lecture-theatre was quite gay withred-baize carpet and unwonted cushions, and the pyramid ofgorgeously-bound books awaiting the hour of distribution on the centretable. 

Prize-day, too, was the object of all sorts of preparations long beforethe eventful date came round. Ten days at least before it arrived theGuinea-pigs and Tadpoles were wont secretly to buy pumice-stone fortheir finger ends, and used one by one to disappear casually into Maltbyand come back with their hair cut. Then the Fourth Senior, who were forever getting up testimonials to their master (they gave him atestimonial on an average twice every term), were very busy collectingcontributions and discussing whether Mr Brand would prefer an ormolumustard-pot, or a steel watch-chain, or an antimacassar. The musicalset at the school, too, were busy rehearsing part songs for theevening's festivities, and the dramatic set were terribly immersed for afortnight beforehand in the preparations for a grand charade. 

Altogether the end of the Christmas term at Saint Dominic's was a busytime, and the present year was certainly no exception to the rule. Greatly to the relief of Stephen and Oliver, Mrs Greenfield foundherself unable at the last moment to come down and take part in theproceedings of the eventful day. As long as the boys had expected herto come they had looked forward to prize-day with something like horror, but now that that danger was passed, Oliver recovered his old unconcern, and Stephen relapsed once more into his attitude of terror-in-chief tohis big brother, snapping and snarling at any one who dared so much asto mention the name of Greenfield senior in his hearing. 

Well, the day came at last, fully as grand an occasion as any oneexpected. The noble Earl turned up half an hour early, and spent theinterval in patting the greasy heads of all the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoleshe came across. The mothers and sisters swarmed up and down thestaircases and in and out the studies, escorted proudly by their dearJohnnys and precious Bobs. The red robes of the Doctor flashed down thecorridor, and in the lecture-theatre there was such a rustling of silkgowns and waving of feather bonnets, and gleaming of white collars andsparkling patent-leather boots, as must have fairly astonished thatsombre place. Every one was there--every fellow nearly had got a motheror somebody to show off to. Even Bramble turned up with a magnificentgrandmother, greatly to the envy of friend and foe, and would have beenthe proudest Tadpole alive if the dear good old lady had not insisted ontaking her descendant's _hand_ instead of his arm, and trotting himabout instead of letting him trot her. Oliver and Stephen alone had nokith and kin to see them on this proud day. 

In due time the lecture-theatre filled up, crowded from floor toceiling. The noble Earl walked in amid terrific cheers and took hisseat. The Doctor walked in after him, amid cheers almost as terrific, and after him the ordinary procession of governors, masters, andexaminers; and when they were all seated prize-day had begun. 

For up steps Mr Raleigh, the captain of the school, on to the raiseddais, whence, after bowing profoundly to the noble Earl and everybody, he delivers a neat speech in honour of a good old soul who lived threeor four centuries ago, and left behind him the parcel of ground on whichSaint Dominic's now stands, and a hatful of money besides, to found theschool. Raleigh having said his say (and how proud the smallest boysare of the captain's whiskers as they listen!), up steps Wren andcommences a similar harangue in Greek. The small boys, of course, cheerthis even more than the English. Then up gets Mr Winter and spins offa Latin speech, but this does not go down so well, for the juniors knowa _little_ Latin, and so are a good deal more critical over that thanover the Greek. The French and German speeches however, restore them togood humour, and then the speeches are done. 

Then comes the noble Earl. He is an old, old man, and his voice is weakand wavering, and scarcely any one hears a word he says. Yet how theycheer him, those youngsters! They watch the back of his head, and whenit bobs then they know the end of a sentence has come, and they let outaccordingly. 

"My dearie, " says Bramble's grandmother, "don't stamp so. The poor oldgentleman can't hear his own voice. "

"That's no matter, " says "my dearie, " pounding away with his feet. "Ifwe keep it up the old boy may give us an extra week's holiday. "

The old lady subsided at this, in a resigned way; and certainly when thegood old nobleman did reach his final bob, his merry, jovial face lookedparticularly promising for the extra week. And now the Doctor advancesto the table with the prize list in his hand. The prize boys aremarshalled in the background, in the order in which their names appear, and Bramble tries hard to look as if nothing but his duty to hisgrandmother would have kept him from forming one of that favoured bandhimself. 

The prize list is arranged backwards way; that is, the small boys comeon first and the great events last. 

It is a treat to see the little mites of the First, Second, and ThirdJunior trot up to get their prizes. They look so pleased, and theyblush so, and look so wistfully up to where their relatives are sitting, that it is quite pathetic, and the good old Earl has a vigorous wipe ofhis spectacles before he calls up the Fourth Junior. 

"General proficiency, " reads the Doctor from his list--"Watson. " No oneknows Watson; he is quite an obscure member of the glorious community, and so he trots in and out again without much excitement. In fact, allthe best prizes of the Form go without much applause, but when theDoctor summons "Paul" to advance and receive "the second arithmeticprize, " there rises a shout enough to bring down the house. 

"Bravo, Guinea-pigs!" shouts one small voice up somewhere near theceiling, whereat there is a mighty laugh and cheer, and Bramble turnscrimson in the face, and tells his grandmother gloomily, "That fellowPaul is a beast!"

But the youth's face brightens when the next name is called: "Thirdarithmetic--Padger. "

Then doth Bramble the Tadpole stand in his seat and cheer till he ishoarse, and till his grandmother pulleth him by the tail of his jacket. The hero Padger, perspiring very much in the face, but otherwisecomposed, takes the homage of his chief and the third arithmetic prizewith becoming humility, and clears off the arena as fast as heconveniently can. 

Surely the Fourth Junior have come to an end now! No! there is one moreprize. 

"First Latin--Greenfield junior. "

This time there was a louder cheer than ever, for Stephen is a popularboy outside his own class. Oliver joins in the cheer, and Pembury andWraysford and one or two others, and of course the Guinea-pigs, go in alump for him. It is quite a minute before the noble Earl can get holdof the words of presentation; and when at last Stephen is dispatched, the Doctor turns round and says, "If you boys will make a _little_ lessnoise I dare say we shall get through the list quite as satisfactorily, and possibly a little more quickly. "

"Hear, hear!" says one of the governors, and nod, nod goes the nobleEarl's head. 

The consequence of this is that the prizes to the First, Second, Third, and Fourth Senior are presented amid something very much like silence, which, however, grows less and less solemn as the proceedings go on. The last Fourth Senior boy to be called is the hero Forrester, who isnow fully constituted a member of the first football fifteen. He gets avehement cheer at all costs, mingled with shouts of "Well kicked, sir!"

"Hack it through!" and the like, which clearly show that the sympathy ofSaint Dominic's is quite as much with the exploits accomplished by theyoung hero's feet as by those of his head. 

Now for the Fifth! If the Doctor expects the company is to remainsolemn during the next quarter of an hour he knows nothing at all aboutthe school over which he presides. 

"Fifth Form--(cheers)--French--(cheers)--Pembury--(terrific applause, during which Tony walks in demurely on his crutches and receives hiswell-merited award). English history--(applause)--Pembury. "

Once more enter Tony on his crutches to receive another prize. 

"Bravo, Tony!"

"Hurrah for the _Dominican_!"

"Well done, Editor!" rise from various parts of the hall, in the midstof which Pembury retires positively for the last time. 

"First Greek prize--Wraysford. "

Wraysford advances gravely and slowly. The instant he appears therearises a cheer--the mightiest of any yet. Everybody cheers, and whenthey have done cheering they stamp, and when they have done stampingthey clap. Wraysford stands disconcerted and flushed with thedemonstration, at a loss whether to smile or frown. He knows themeaning of that cheer as well as anybody, and it grates on his earunpleasantly as he listens. What ages it seems before it is done, andthe noble Earl at last holds out the book and says, "I have greatpleasure, Wraysford, in handing you this prize. Your schoolfellows areall proud of you; I feel sure you deserve their good opinion. I wishyou success, Wraysford;" and so saying, the good old gentleman bobsaffably, and Wraysford, amid another tempest of applause, bows too, andtakes off his prize. 

"The next name, " says the Doctor, referring to his list, "is that of thewinner of the Nightingale Scholarship--(sensation)--and I may tell yourlordship that the boy is, in the opinion of his examiners and myself, one of the most promising boys for his age that Saint Dominic's hasknown. The examiners report that his answers to the questions on thepaper deserve the greatest credit. I will say only this before hisface: Nightingale Scholarship--Greenfield senior. "

A solemn silence marks the close of the Doctor's speech, in the midst ofwhich Oliver, with pale face, but otherwise unmoved, advances to wherethe noble Earl stands. A few of the strangers greet his appearance witha clapping of hands, but the sound falls strangely on the silence allround. 

The noble Earl, who is evidently ready with a neat little speech whichshall sum the applause that never comes, is disconcerted at thisunwonted stillness. You might hear a pin fall as the old gentleman, indumb show, places the certificate into the boy's hand and tries to getat the words which the silence has scared away. 

Oliver waits no longer than he can help. With a bow, he takes theparchment and turns to quit the scene. 

It is at this moment, that somewhere or other in the hall, there rises afaint, almost whispered, hiss. Slight as it is, it falls with startlingeffect upon the dead silence which reigns. Then, like the first whisperof a storm, it suddenly grows and swells and rushes, angrily andwitheringly, about the head of the wretched Oliver. Then as suddenly itdies away into silence, and the presentation of the NightingaleScholarship is at an end. 

The visitors, the committee, the ladies, the noble Earl, look about themin blank astonishment and misery. The Doctor's face flushes up mightilyas he glares for one instant around him, and then drops his head overthe prize list. 

The only thing there is for him to do he does. He calls on the nextname as composedly as he can, and proceeds with the business of the day. 

But the magic has suddenly gone out of prize-day, and no coaxing canbring it back. The Fifth, and after them the Sixth, advance and receivetheir rewards amidst the listless indifference of the audience, anduncheered by the faintest spark of enthusiasm. No one takes the troubleto cheer anybody. Even Raleigh, the captain, comes in and out almostunheeded; and when at last the final name is reached, it is a relief toevery one. 

The rest of the day drags heavily--it is no use trying to get up thesteam. The visitors are out of humour, and the noble Earl leaves early. The musical feast provided by the glee club is a failure altogether. Afew only come to it, and nothing interferes with music like a pooraudience. 

As to the charade, it is abandoned at the last moment. 

Then a great many mothers and aunts make the discovery that there is anevening train from Maltby; and having made it, act upon it; and the tideof emigration sets out forthwith. 

Among the first to depart is Wraysford. 

As he appears at the school door, trunk in hand, waiting for the schoolomnibus (which vehicle, by the way, is having a busy time of it), Pembury hobbles up, similarly equipped for the road. 

"You off by this train?" says the latter to Wraysford. 

"Yes; are you?"

"I may as well. I can get home by nine; and my people won't be in agreat rage if I turn up earlier than they expect. "

"Well, we may as well get a fly as wait for the wretched omnibus, " saysWraysford. "Come along; there are flies at the corner of Hall Street. "

Out walked the two, saying good-bye to one or two on the road. At thedrive gate two boys are standing waiting for the omnibus. Wraysford andPembury are upon them before they observe that these are Oliver and hisbrother. 

What is to be done? There is no escaping them--they must pass; yet bothof them, somehow, would at that moment--they couldn't tell why--havedropped into the earth. 

Oliver looks up as they approach. 

Now or never! Wraysford feels he must say something!

"Good-bye, Greenfield, " he says. "I hope--"

Oliver quietly takes Stephen's arm and turns on his heel. 

Wraysford stares after him for a moment, and then slowly goes on hisway, breathing hard. 

"I wonder, " said Pembury, after a long silence--"I wonder, Wray, if it'spossible we are wrong about that fellow?"

Wraysford says nothing. 

"He doesn't act like a guilty person. Just fancy, Wray, "--and here Tonypulls up short, in a state of perturbation--"just fancy if you and I andthe rest have been making fools of ourselves all the term!"

Ah! my Fifth Form heroes, just fancy!

CHAPTER THIRTY. 

A NEW TURN OF THE TIDE. 

The three weeks of Christmas holiday darted past only too rapidly formost of the boys at Saint Dominic's. Holidays have a miserable knack ofsliding along. The first few days seem delightfully long. Then, afterthe first week, the middle all of a sudden becomes painfully near. Andthe middle once passed, they simply tear, and bolt, and rush pitilesslyon to the end, when, lo and behold! your time is up before you well knewit had begun. 

So it happened with most of the boys. With one or two, however, theholiday dragged heavily, and one of these was Master Thomas Senior. This forlorn youth, no longer now rollicking Tom of the Fifth, but themeek and mild, and withal sulky, hopeful of the Reverend Thomas Senior, D. D. , of Saint Dominic's, watched the last of his chums go off withanything but glee. He was doomed to three weeks' kicking of his heelsin the empty halls and playgrounds of Saint Dominic's, with nothing todo and no one to do it with. For the boy's mother was ill, which keptthe whole family at home, and Tom's baby brother, vivacious youth as hewas, was hardly of a companionable age yet. 

As to the Doctor (Tom, by the way, even in the bosom of his family, always thought and talked of his father as the "Doctor")--as for theDoctor, well, Tom was inclined to shirk the risk of more _tete-a-tetes_than he could possibly help with so formidable a personage, even thoughhe _was_ his own parent. 

But try all he could, Tom was let in for it once, when he found himselfface to face one day at dinner with the Doctor, and no third person tohelp him out. 

The occasion was quite early in the holidays, and was indeed about thefirst opportunity the father had had since breaking-up for anything likea conversation with his affable son. 

Tom's conversational powers were never very brilliant, and when in thesubduing presence of his father they always dwindled down to nothing. It was, therefore, somewhat difficult, under the circumstances, to keepthe talk going, but the Doctor did his best. Tom answered inmonosyllables, and looked fearfully sheepish, and found his best policywas always to keep his mouth full, and so have the excuse of goodmanners on his side for his silence. 

"Tom, " said the Doctor, presently, steering round to a subject which ithad been for some time in his mind to question his son about, "that wasan extraordinary demonstration on prize-day, when Greenfield senior cameup to get his scholarship. "

"It wasn't me, " said Tom, colouring up. 

"My dear boy, I never supposed it was, " said the Doctor, laughing. "Butit surprised me very much, as well as pained me. "

"I couldn't help it, " again said Tom. 

"Of course you couldn't, Tom. But I am sorry to find Greenfield is sounpopular in the school. "

The Doctor did not care to put a direct question to Tom on the matterthat was perplexing him. He hoped to draw him out by more indirectmeans. But he was mistaken if he ever expected it, for Tom, with theperversity of a fellow who _will_ take everything that is said as arebuke to himself, showed no inclination to follow the lead. The Doctorhad, therefore, to ask outright. 

"What dreadful crime has he committed, Tom, to be treated so severely?"

"I don't want to treat him severely, " said Tom. "Tom, " said the Doctor, half angrily, "you are very foolish. I was not referring to youparticularly, but to the whole school. "

Tom sulked at this more than ever. _He_ wasn't going to be calledfoolish. The Doctor, however, tried once more. 

"What has he done to offend you all? Has he missed a catch at cricket, or a kick at football? I hope, whatever it is--"

"It isn't me!" once more growled Tom, heartily wishing the meal wasover. 

The Doctor gave it up as a bad job. There was no use trying to get arise out of Tom. If that ingenuous youth had been trying to shield hisForm, he could not have done it better. As it was, he was only stupidlytrying to shield himself, and letting his dread of his "Doctor" fatherget the better of his common sense and good manners. 

Luckily for Tom, a friend wrote to invite him to spend the last week ofthe holidays in London, an invitation which that youth, as well as hisparent for him, thankfully accepted. Indeed, during the holidays MrsSenior became so ill that the poor Doctor had no thoughts to spare foranybody or anything but her and her hope of recovery. He watched hernight and day through all the vicissitudes of her fever, and when atlast the crisis was over, and the doctors said she would recover, theysaid also that unless Dr Senior wanted to have an illness himself hemust go away and get perfect rest and change for a week or two at thevery least. 

The consequence of all this was that Saint Dominic's had to reassembleafter the Christmas holidays without the Doctor. 

To some of the boys this was sorrowful news; others regarded thecircumstance with indifference, while one section there was who receivedthe intelligence with positive joy. 

Strange that that section should contain in it two such opposites asLoman of the Sixth and Bramble of the Fourth Junior. 

Loman, despite his "run of luck, " had spent an uneasy holiday. He hadbeen in constant terror of seeing Cripps every time he ventured outsidehis house; and he had been in still more terror of Cripps calling up atSaint Dominic's and telling the Doctor all about him directly after theholidays. For now Loman's time was up. Though he had in one way andanother paid off all his debt to the landlord of the Cockchafer buteight pounds, still he knew Cripps could make himself quite asunpleasant about eight pounds as about thirty pounds, and probablywould. 

But as long as the Doctor was away it didn't matter so much. And, besides, the examination for the exhibition would of course bepostponed, which meant so much longer time for preparation--which meantso much better chance for Loman of winning it. For, when he tried, hecould work hard and effectively. 

So Loman was very glad to hear the Doctor was away ill. So was Bramble!

That youth (who, by the way, had during the holidays quite recoveredfrom the sobering effect of his grandmother's visit to the school) wasalways on a look-out for escaping the eye of the constitutedauthorities. He hardly ever saw the Doctor from one month's end toanother; but somehow, to know he was away--to know any one was away whoought to be there to look after him--was a glorious opportunity! Helaunched at once into a series of revolutionary exploits on the strengthof it. He organised mutinies ten times a day, and had all thespecifications drawn up for blowing up Saint Dominic's with paraffinoil. There was nothing, in short, Bramble would not venture while theDoctor was away; and there is no knowing how far he might have carriedhis bloodthirsty conspiracies into effect had not Mr Rastle caught himone day with a saw, sawing the legs off the writing-master's stool, andgiven him such a chastisement, bodily and mental, as induced him for abrief season to retire from public life, and devote all his spare timeto copying out an imposition. 

On the first morning after reassembling, Mr Jellicott, the master incharge of Saint Dominic's, summoned the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth to meethim in the lecture-theatre, and there announced to them the reason ofthe head master's absence. 

"In consequence of this, " said Mr Jellicott, "the removes gained lastterm will not be put into force for a week or two, till the head masterreturns; but, meanwhile, Dr Senior is anxious that the work of theschool should go on as usual. We shall, therefore, resume studiesto-morrow; and on Monday next the examination for the WaterstonExhibition will be held, as arranged. The three boys--Loman, Greenfieldsenior, and Wraysford--entered for this will be excused ordinary lessonstill after the examination. "

Greenfield senior! Then Oliver _was_ in for it after all! Theannouncement amazed Wraysford as much as it did Loman and every oneelse. It had never entered their minds that he would go in for it. Hadn't he got the Nightingale? and wasn't that enough for one half-year?And didn't every one know _how_ he had got it, and how could the fellownow have the assurance to put in for another examination?

Oliver always had been a queer fellow, and this move struck every one asqueerer than ever. 

But to Wraysford and one or two others it occurred in a different light. If Oliver had really won the Nightingale in the manner every onesuspected, he would hardly now boldly enter for another examination, inwhich he might possibly not succeed, and so prove those suspicions to betrue. For the subjects were almost exactly the same as those examinedin for the Nightingale, and unless Oliver did as well here as he didthere--and that was _remarkably_ well--it would be open for anybody tosay, "Of course--he couldn't steal the paper this time, that's why!"

Wraysford, as he thought over it, became more and more uneasy andashamed of himself. One moment he persuaded himself Oliver was ahypocrite, and the next that he was innocent. "At any rate, " said he tohimself, "this examination will settle it. "

In due time the examination day came, and once more the three rivalsheard their names called upon to come forward and occupy that memorablefront desk in the Sixth Form room. 

This time at any rate there had been no chance for any one to take anunfair advantage, for the Doctor's papers did not reach Saint Dominic'still the morning of the examination. Indeed, Mr Jellicott was openingthe envelope which contained them when the boys entered the room. 

Any one closely observing the three boys as they glanced each down hispaper would once more have been struck by the strange contrast in theirfaces. Oliver's, as his eyes glanced rapidly down the page, wascomposed and immovable; Wraysford's, as he looked first at his paper andthen hurriedly at Oliver and Loman, was perplexed and troubled; Loman'swas blank and pale and desponding. 

But of the three, the happiest that morning was Wraysford--not that hewas sure of success, not that his conscience was clear of all reproach, but because, as he sat there, working hard himself and hearing someone's pen on his left flying with familiar sound quickly over the paper, he felt at last absolutely sure that he had misjudged his friend, andequally resolved that, come what would of it, and humiliating as theconfession would be, he would, before that day ended, be reconciled toOliver Greenfield. What mattered it to him, then, who won theexhibition? Loman might win it for all _he_ cared, as long as he wonback his friend. 

However, Loman at that moment did not look much like winning anything. If he had been in difficulties in the former examination, he was utterlystranded now. He tried first one question, then another, but noinspiration seemed to come; and at last, after dashing off a few linesat random, he laid down his pen, and, burying his face in his hands, gave himself up to his own wretched thoughts. He must see Cripps soon;he must go to him or Cripps would come up to Saint Dominic's, and then--

Well, Loman did not do much execution that morning, and was thankfulwhen presently Mr Jellicott said, "Time will be up in five minutes, boys. "

The announcement was anything but welcome to the other two competitors, both of whom were writing, hammer and tongs, as though their livesdepended on it. Loman looked round at them and groaned as he looked. Why should they be doing so well and he be doing so ill?

"Look at those two beggars!" said Callonby to Stansfield, in a whisper, pointing to Wraysford and Oliver. "There's a neck-and-neck race foryou!"

So it was. Now Oliver seemed to be getting over the ground quicker, andnow Wraysford. Now Wraysford lost a good second by looking up at theclock; now Greenfield made a bad shot with his pen at the inkpot, andhad to dip again, which threw him back half a second at least. 

Unconscious of the interest and amusement they were exciting among thesporting section of the Sixth, they kept the pace up to the finish, andwhen at last Mr Jellicott said, "Cease writing and bring up yourpapers, " both groaned simultaneously, as much as to say, "A second ortwo more would have done it. "

The examination was over, but the event of that memorable day was stillto take place. 

Five minutes later Oliver, who had retired alone, as usual, to hisstudy, there to announce to the anxious Stephen how he had fared in theexamination, caught the sudden sound of an old familiar footstep outsidehis door, which sent the blood to his cheeks with strange emotion. Stephen heard it, and knew it too. 

"There's that beast Wraysford, " he said, at the very instant thatWraysford, not waiting to knock, flung open the door and entered. 

There was no need for him to announce his errand. It was written on hisface as he advanced with outstretched hand to his old friend. 

"Noll, old man, " was all he could say, as their eyes met, "theyoungster's right--I _am_ a beast!"

At the first word--the first friendly word spoken to him for months--Oliver started to his feet like one electrified; and before the sentencewas over his hand was tightly grasping the hand of his friend, andStephen had disappeared from the scene. It is no business of ours topry into that happy study for the next quarter of an hour. If we didthe reader would very likely be disappointed, or perhaps wearied, orperhaps convinced that these two were as great fools in the manner oftheir making up as they had been in the manner of their falling out. 

Oh! the happiness of that precious quarter of an hour, when the veilthat has divided two faithful friends is suddenly dashed aside, and theyrush one to the other, calling themselves every imaginable bad name inthe dictionary, insisting to the verge of quarrelling that it was alltheir fault, and no fault at all of the other, far too rapturous to talkordinary common sense, and far too forgetful of everything to rememberthat they are saying the same thing over and over again every fewminutes. 

"The falling out of faithful friends"--as the old copybooks say inelegant Virgilian Latin--"renewing is of love. " And so it was withOliver and Wraysford. 

Why, they were twice the friends they were before! Twice! Fifty times!And they laughed and talked and made fools of themselves for a wholehalf-hour over the discovery, and might have done so for an hour, hadnot Stephen, who had patiently remained outside for a reasonable time, now returned to join in the celebration. 

"Stee, you young beggar, " said Wraysford, as the boy entered, "if youdon't have my tea piping hot to-night, and fresh herrings for three doneto a regular turn, I'll flay you alive, my boy. And now, if you'regood, you may come and kick me!"

Stephen, overflowing with joy, and quite rickety with emotion, flew athis old friend, and, instead of kicking him, caught hold of his arm, andturning to his brother, cried, "Oh, Noll! _isn't_ this prime? Why, here's old Wray--"

"That beast Wraysford, " suggested the owner of the title; "do give afellow his proper name, young 'un. "

This little interruption put Stephen off his speech; and the three, locking the study-door, settled down to talk rationally, or, at anyrate, as rationally as they could, over affairs. 

"You see, " said Wraysford, "I can't imagine now what possessed me tomake such a fool of myself. "

"Now you needn't begin at that again, " said Oliver. "If I hadn't cut upso at that jackass Simon, when he began about my being in the Doctor'sstudy that evening, it would never have happened. "

"Bah! any one might have known the fellow was telling lies. "

"But he wasn't telling lies, " said Oliver. "I _was_ in the Doctor'sstudy all alone that evening, and at the very time the paper went too. That's just the queer thing about it. "

"You were?" exclaimed both the boys, for this was news even to Stephen. 

"Yes, of course I was. Don't you know I went to see him about Stephen, and that row he had up at the Lock?"

"Oh, yes, " said Stephen, "I remember. I was in a regular blue funk thatevening. "

"Well, the Doctor wasn't there. I hung about a few minutes for him, andthen, as he didn't turn up, I left, and met that old booby just as I wascoming out of the door. "

"And he's gone and told everybody he saw you coming out with the paperin your pocket. "

Oliver laughed loud at this. 

"Upon my word, the fellow must have sharp eyes if he could do that!Well, I was so disgusted when he came up after the examination, andbegan to insinuate that I knew all about the missing paper, that--Well, you know how I distinguished myself. "

"It would have served him right if you'd throttled him, " observedWraysford. "But I say, Noll, " added he more gravely, "why on earth, oldman, didn't you say all this then? What a lot of unpleasantness itwould have saved. "

"What!" exclaimed Oliver, suddenly firing up, "do you suppose, when thefellows all chose to believe that miserable idiot's story, I was goingto stir a finger or bother myself a snap about what they thought? Bah!I'm not angry now, Wray; but, upon my word, when I think of that time--"

"What a pack of curs we all were, " said Wraysford, almost as angry ashis friend. 

"Hear, hear!" put in Stephen, an observation which had the effect ofmaking the whole thing ridiculous and so restoring both the friends totheir composure. 

"But, Noll, I say, old man, " said Wraysford, presently, "of course youdidn't intend it, but if you meant to make every one believe you did it, you couldn't have gone on better than you did. I'm certain not half thefellows would have believed Simon if you hadn't--"

"Made such an ass of myself, " said Oliver, laughing. "Of course I cansee now how it would all work in beautifully against me, and I'm certainI've myself to thank for the whole business. "

"Now, don't say that. Nothing can excuse the way all of us treated you, poor old boy. But, thank goodness, it's all right now. I'll let themknow--"

"Now, Wray, that's just what I won't have you do. You must not say aword to them about it, or, seriously, I'll be in a great rage. If theycan't think well of me of their own accord, I won't have them do it foranybody else's, so there. "

"But, Noll, old man--"

"Upon my word, Wray, I mean what I say. Not a word to anybody. "

"Do you mean to say you intend to live at Coventry all your life?"

"It's not Coventry now, is it, Stee, old boy?" said Oliver, with abright smile. "And now, Wray, " said he, "I want to know how you got onin the exam to-day. You were going ahead furiously, it seemed to me. "

"Yes, but wasn't doing much good, I'm afraid. How have you done?"

"Pretty well; but I hadn't time to touch the last question. "

"I knew, as soon as I saw you were entered for the exam, " saidWraysford, "we had all been taking you up wrong. I can guess now whyyou went in for it. "

"Well, it struck me it might be a way of putting myself right with thefellows if I won; but I'm half afraid I won't win, and then theirhighnesses will be doubly sure of my villainy!"

"I know you will win, " said Wraysford. 

"If I do I shall feel an awful blackguard, for you would have beencertain of it. "

"I'm not so very sure. However, I think I could have beaten Loman. "

"He seemed out of it, quite. Do you know I think that fellow is goingto the dogs altogether?"

"Pity, " said Wraysford, "if he is, but it does look like it. "

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. 

LOMAN IN LUCK AGAIN. 

It certainly did look as if Loman was going to the dogs. And any oneable to see and know all that was going on in his mind would have foundout that he was a good deal nearer "the dogs" even than he seemed. 

On the evening after the examination he received a note from Cripps--brought up in a most barefaced way by one of the potboys at theCockchafer--requesting the pleasure of Mr Loman's company at thatpleasant spot _immediately_, to talk over business!

"Why didn't he send it by post?" demanded Loman, angrily, of thedisreputable messenger. "Don't you know if you were seen up herethere'd be a row?"

"Dunno so much about that, but the governor, he says he's dead on thejob this time, he says, and if you don't show up sharp with the stumpy, he says he'll give you a call himself and wake you up, he says--"

"Tell him I'll come, and go off quick, " said Loman, hurriedly. 

"Beg pardon, mister, " said the potboy, with a leer, and touching hiscap, "anything allowed for this here little job--carrying up theletter?"

"I'll allow you a kick if you don't go!" exclaimed the wretched Loman, furiously. 

"Oh, very good, " said the boy, making a long nose. "Wait till thegovernor walks up. We'll see who'll kick then!"

And so saying the amiable and respectable youth departed. 

"Hullo!" said Wren, coming up just at this moment, "who's your friend, Loman? He looks a nice sort of boy!"

Wren was now captain and head monitor at Saint Dominic's--far too bluntand honest ever to be an object of anything but dislike and uneasinessto Loman. Now the uneasiness was the more prominent of the two. Lomanreplied, confused and reddening, "Oh, that boy? Why--oh, he's ashop-boy from the town, come up about an order--you know--for ahat-box. "

"I don't know. Do you mean Morris's boy?"

"Ye--yes. A new boy of Morris's. "

"Well, whoever he is, he's a precious cheeky specimen. Why didn't youkick him?"

"Eh? Kick him? Yes, I was just going to, " began Loman, scarcelyknowing what he said, "when--"

"When I turned up? Well, I shouldn't have interfered. By the way, Loman, I suppose you've given up going to that public now? What's thefellow's name?"

"Cripps, " said Loman. "Oh, I never go near the place now. "

"That's a good job. It was awkward enough his turning up as he did lastterm, and all a chance the Doctor didn't hear of it, I can tell you. Anyhow, now I'm captain, that sort of thing will have to drop, mind. "

"Oh, I assure you I've never been near the place since, " said Loman, meekly, anxious if possible to keep the new captain in humour, much ashe disliked him. 

"I'm glad of it, " said Wren, coldly. 

Just at that moment a third personage arrived on the scene. This wasSimon, who approached, not noticing Wren, and crying out with his usualgush, "Hullo, Loman, I say. I saw Cripps to-day. He was asking afteryou. He says you've not been down since last Sat--Hullo, Wren!"

And here the poet caught sight of the captain. 

"So _you've_ been down to the Cockchafer, have you?" inquired Wren. 

"Well. Oh, don't tell, Wren, I say. I don't often go. Ask Loman if Ido. He's always there, and could easily tell if I went. Do I go often, Loman? Besides, I've given it up now!"

"Quick work, " observed Wren, drily, "if you were down there thismorning. "

"Well, " said Simon, shifting his ground slightly, "I didn't think therecould be any harm, as Loman goes. _He's_ a monitor. And then I don'towe Cripps money, do I, Loman? Or play cards and bet, like you, do I?Oh, look here, Wren, do let us off this time. Don't report me, there'sa good fellow. I promise I won't do it again! Oh, I say, Loman, beg usoff. I never let out on you--not even when you got--"

Wren, who had allowed this burst of eloquence to proceed thus far, hereturned sharply on his heel, and left the two companions in wrong inpossession of the field. 

Next morning, when Loman got up, he found the following note on histable:

"Wraysford takes your place as monitor. The Doctor will be told youhave `resigned. '--C. W. "

Loman crushed the paper angrily in his hand, and muttered a curse as heflung it into the fire. He felt little enough gratitude to Wren fordescribing him merely as resigned, and not, as was actually the case, dismissed. Yet, even in his wretchedness, there was an atom of reliefin knowing that at least a shred of his good old name remained. 

Poor shred indeed! but better than nothing. 

Every one treated him as usual--except Wren, who cut him contemptuously. The Sixth, ever since the exposure at the football match last term, hadlost any respect they ever had for their comrade, and many had wonderedhow it was he was still allowed to remain a monitor. Every one nowsupposed he had taken "the better part of valour" in resigning, and, asit mattered very little to any one what he did, and still less what hethought, they witnessed his deposition from the post of honour withprofound indifference. 

Poor Loman! Some righteous reader will be shocked at my pitying such afoolish, miserable failure of a fellow as this Edward Loman; and yet hewas to be pitied, wasn't he? He hadn't been naturally a vicious boy, ora cowardly boy, or a stupid boy, but he had become all three; and as hesat and brooded over his hard luck, as he called it, that morning, hismind was filled with mingled misery and fear and malice towards everyone and everything, and he felt well-nigh desperate. 

His interview with Cripps came off that afternoon. The landlord of theCockchafer, as the reader may have gathered, had changed his tone prettyconsiderably the last few days, and Loman found it out now. 

"Well?" said he, gloomily, as the boy entered. 

"Well?" said Loman, not knowing how to begin. 

"I suppose you've got my money?" said Cripps. 

"No, Cripps, I haven't, " said the boy. 

"All right, " said Cripps; "that's quite enough for me;" and, to Loman'sastonishment and terror, he walked away without another word, and leftthe unhappy boy to stay or go as he pleased. 

Loman could not go, leaving things thus. He must see Cripps again, ifit was only to know the worst. So he stayed in the bar for thelandlord's return. Cripps took no notice of him, but went on with hisordinary pursuits, smiling to himself in a way which perfectly terrifiedhis victim. Loman had never seen Cripps like this before. 

"Cripps, " he said, after half an hour's waiting--"Cripps, I want tospeak to you. "

"You may want, " was the surly reply. "I've done with you, younggentleman. "

"Oh, Cripps, don't talk like that! I do mean to pay you, everyfarthing, but--"

"Yes, you're very good at meaning, you are, " said the other. "Anyhow, it don't much matter to me _now_. "

"What _do_ you mean, Cripps? Oh, do give me a little more time! Aweek--only a week longer. "

"Aren't you done?" was the only reply; "aren't you going home?"

"Will you, Cripps? Have pity on me! I'm so miserable!"

Cripps only whistled pleasantly to himself. 

Loman, almost frantic, made one last effort. 

"Give us just a week more, " he entreated. 

No answer. 

"Do speak, Cripps; say you will; please do!"

Cripps only laughed and went on whistling. 

"Oh, what shall I do, what _shall_ I do?" cried the wretched boy. "Ishall be ruined if you don't have some pity--"

"Look here, " said Cripps, curtly, "you'd better stop that noise here, mylad. You can go; do you hear? Look alive. "

It was no use staying further. Loman went What anguish he endured forthe next twenty-four hours no one knows. What plans he turned in hishead, what wild schemes, what despair, what terrors filled him, only hehimself could tell. Every moment he expected the fatal vision of Crippsat Saint Dominic's, and with it his own certain disgrace and ruin, and, as time went on, his perturbation became so great that he really feltill with it. 

But Cripps did not come that day or the next. The next day was one ofmighty excitement in Saint Dominic's. The result of the examination forthe Waterston Exhibition was announced. 

Had any other three boys but those actually taking part been thecompetitors, few outsiders would have felt much interest in the resultof an ordinary examination confined to Sixth Form boys. But on thisoccasion, as we have seen, the general curiosity was aroused. No oneexpected much of Loman. The school had discovered pretty well by thistime that he was an impostor, and their chief surprise had been that heshould venture into the list against two such good men as Oliver andWraysford. 

But which of those two was to win? That was the question. Every onebut a few had been positive it would be Wraysford, whom they looked uponas the lawful winner of the Nightingale last term, and whom, they wereconvinced, Oliver was unable to beat by fair means. And yet to these ithad been a great astonishment to hear that Oliver had entered for theexamination. Unless he was certain of winning he would only do himselfharm by it, and confirm the suspicions against him. And yet, if heshould win after all--if he was able fairly to beat Wraysford--whyshould he have gone to the trouble last term of stealing the examinationpaper and making himself the most unpopular boy in all Saint Dominic's?

These questions sorely exercised the school, and made them await eagerlythe announcement of the result. 

The news came at last. 

"I have just received, " said Mr Jellicott that morning, when the Fifthand Sixth were assembled together in the lecture-theatre--"I have justreceived from the examiners the report on the Waterston examination. The result is as follows: First--Greenfield, 108 marks; second--Wraysford, 96 marks; third--Loman, 20 marks. "

Here Mr Jellicott was interrupted by a laugh and a muttered "Bravo, Loman! very good!" in what sounded to the knowing something likePembury's voice. The master looked up and frowned angrily, and thenproceeded: "The examiners add an expression of their very high approvalof Greenfield's answers. The highest marks obtainable were 120, and, considering he left the last question untouched--doubtless for want oftime--they feel that he has passed with very great distinction, andfully in accordance with their expectations of the winner of theNightingale Scholarship last term. We will now proceed to the usuallessons. "

This announcement made the strangest impression on all present. No oneattempted any demonstration, but while Mr Jellicott was speaking manyperplexed and troubled faces turned to where Oliver, by the side of hisfriend Wraysford, was sitting. Wraysford's face was beaming as heclapped his friend on the back. Oliver looked as unconcerned andindifferent as ever. The fellow _was_ a puzzle, certainly. 

As soon as lesson was over, the Fifth retired to its own quarters in aperturbed state of mind, there to ponder over what had happened. Oliverspared them the embarrassment of his society as usual, and Wraysford wasnot there either. So the Fifth were left pretty much to their owndevices and the guidance of some lesser lights. 

"Isn't it queer?" said Ricketts. "Whoever would have thought of itturning out like this?"

"One could understand it, " said Braddy, "if there had been any chance ofhis repeating the dodge of last term. But he couldn't have done that. "

"I don't know, " said another; "he may have been up to some other dodge. Perhaps he copied off Wraysford. "

"Hardly likely, " said Bullinger, "up on the front desk just underJellicott's nose. "

"Well, I can't make it out at all, " said Ricketts. 

"Nor can I, " said Bullinger. 

All this while Pembury had not spoken, but he now turned to Simon, andsaid, "What do _you_ think, Simon? Did you see Greenfield stealing theexamination paper this time, eh?"

"Oh, no, not this time, " promptly replied the poet; "last term it was, you know. I didn't see him this time. "

"Oh, you didn't even see him with it in his pocket? Now, be verycareful. Are you sure he didn't have it in his pocket a day before theexam?"

"Why, " said Simon, laughing at Pembury's innocence, "how could I seewhat was in a fellow's pocket, Pembury, you silly! I can't tell what'sin your pocket. "

"Oh, can't you? I thought you could, upon my honour. I thought you sawthe paper in Greenfield's pocket last term. "

"So I did. That is--"

Here the wretched poet was interrupted by a general laugh, in the midstof which he modestly retired to the background, and left the Fifth tosolve the riddle in hand by themselves. 

"Suppose, " began Pembury, after a pause--"suppose, when Braddy's doneplaying the fool, if such a time ever comes--"

Here Braddy collapsed entirely. He would sooner be sat upon by DrSenior himself than by Pembury. 

"Suppose, " once more began Pembury, amid dead silence--"suppose, insteadof Greenfield senior being a thief and liar, I and all of you have beenfools and worse for the last six months? Wouldn't that be funny, youfellows?"

"Why, whatever do you mean?" demanded Tom Senior. 

"Why, you don't suppose I mean anything, do you?" retorted thecross-grained Tony. "What's the use of saying what you mean--"

"But do you really--" began Bullinger. 

"I say, suppose I and you, Bullinger, and one or two others here whoought to have known better, have been making fools of ourselves, wouldn't that be funny?"

There was a pause, till Simon, plucking up heart, replied, "Very funny!"

The gravity even of Pembury broke down at this, and the presentconference of the Fifth ended without arriving at any nearer conclusionon the question which was perplexing it. 

Meanwhile, Oliver and Wraysford were in their study, talking over theevent of the day. 

"I was certain how it would be, old boy, " said Wraysford, genuinelydelighted. "I wonder what the Fifth will say now? Bah! it doesn'tbecome me to say too much, though, for I was as bad as any of themmyself. "

"No, you weren't, old boy; you never really believed it. But I say, Wray, I don't intend to take this exhibition. You must have it. "

"I!" exclaimed Wraysford. "Not a bit of me. You won it. "

"But I never meant to go in for it, and wouldn't have if it had not beenfor the Fifth. After all, it's only twenty pounds. Do take it, oldman. I've got the Nightingale, you know. "

"What does that matter? I wouldn't have this for anything. The fellowstried to make me think _I_ was the real winner of the Nightingale, and Iwas idiot enough half to believe it. But I think I've had a lesson. "

"But, Wray--"

"Not a word, my dear fellow; I won't hear of it. "

"Very well, then; I shall shy the money when I get it into the nearestfish-pond. "

"All serene, " said Wraysford, laughing; "I hope the fish will relishit. "

At that moment there was a knock at the door. 

"Come in, " said Oliver. 

The door opened, and, to the astonishment of the two boys, Lomanentered. 

Was it peace, or war, or what? Loman's miserable face and strangemanner quickly answered the question. 

"Oh, Greenfield, " he said, "excuse me. I want to speak to you;" andhere he glanced at Wraysford, who rose to go. 

"Stay where you are, Wray, " said Oliver. "What is it, Loman?"

Loman, quite cowed, hardly knew how to go on. 

"I was glad to hear you got the Waterston, " he said. "I--I thought youwould. "

What was the fellow at?

After a long pause, which seemed to drive Loman almost to despair, hesaid, "You'll wonder what I have come here for. I know we've not beenfriends. But--but, Greenfield, I'm in awful trouble. "

"What is it?" again asked Oliver. 

"Why, the fact is, " said Loman, gaining courage, as he found neitherOliver nor Wraysford disposed to resent his visit--"the fact is, Greenfield, I'm in debt. I've been very foolish, you know, betting andall that. I say, Greenfield, _could_ you possibly--would you lend me--eight pounds? I don't know why I ask you, but unless I can pay themoney to-day, I shall--"

"What!" exclaimed Oliver, "eight pounds to pay your bets?"

"Oh, no, not all bets. I've been swindled too--by Cripps. You knowCripps. "

And here Loman, utterly miserable, threw himself down on a chair andlooked beseechingly at the two friends. 

"I could pay you back in a month or so, " he went on; "or at any ratebefore Easter. Do lend it me, please, Greenfield. I don't know whereelse to go and ask, and I shall get into such an awful row if I can'tpay. Will you?"

Oliver looked at Wraysford; Wraysford looked at Oliver; and then bothlooked at Loman. The sight of the wretched boy there entreating moneyof the very fellow who had least reason in all Saint Dominic's to likehim, was strange indeed. 

"Wray, " said Oliver, abruptly, after another pause, during which he hadevidently made up his mind, "have you any money about you?"

"I've three pounds, " said Wraysford, taking out his purse. 

Oliver went to his desk and took from it a five-pound note which wasthere, his savings for the last year. This, with Wraysford's threesovereigns, he handed without a word to Loman. Then, not waiting tohear the thanks which the wretched boy tried to utter, he tookWraysford's arm and walked out of the study. 

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. 

THE "DOMINICAN" COMES ROUND. 

The Fifth were a good while coming round on the question of Greenfieldsenior. But the delay was more on account of pride than because theystill considered their old class-fellow a knave. They had taken up sucha grand position last term, and talked so magnificently about honour, and morality, and the credit of the school, that it was a sad come-downnow to have to admit they had all been wrong, and still more that theyhad all been fools. And yet, after what had happened, they could nolonger retain their suspicions of Oliver Greenfield. 

A few of the better sort, like Pembury and Bullinger, had the courage, at whatever cost, to act up to their convictions, and declared at oncethat they had been wrong, and were ashamed of it. 

The next step was to approach Oliver, and that was more difficult, forhe was such a queer fellow there was no knowing where to have him. However, Pembury's wit helped him over the difficulty as usual. 

He was hobbling down the passage one morning when he suddenlyencountered Oliver and Wraysford, arm-in-arm, approaching him. If atany time in his life Pembury did feel uncomfortable and awkward he feltit now. If he let Oliver go by this time without making it up somehow, the chance might never come again; but how to set about it, that was thedifficulty, and every half-second brought the two nearer. Twentydifferent ideas flashed through his mind. He was not the sort of fellowto go to any one and eat humble-pie straight off. That was far too tamea proceeding. No, there was only one way he could think of, and hewould chance that. 

"Noll, old man, " said he, in the old familiar tones, "you've got a sparearm. May I take it?"

Oliver stopped short and looked at him for an instant in astonishment. Next moment, with a hearty "Rather!" he slipped his arm into that of thehappy Pembury, and the three went on their way rejoicing, a sight and amoral for all Saint Dominic's. 

That was the whole of Anthony Pembury's making up. As for Bullinger, hewrote his man a letter, worded in beautiful English, in the most eleganthandwriting and punctuated to a nicety, setting forth his contrition, and his hope that Greenfield would henceforth reckon him among hisfriends--"Yours very sincerely, H. Bullinger. " This literary effort hecarefully dispatched by a Guinea-pig to its destination, and awaited areply with the utmost impatience. The reply was laconic, but highlysatisfactory. It was a verbal one, given by Oliver himself in classthat afternoon, who volunteered the information to the delightedBullinger that it was a "jolly day. "

It was indeed a jolly day to that contrite youth. He never believed itwould all be got over so easily. He had dreaded all sorts of scenes andlectures and humiliations, but here he was, by a single word, passedback straight into friendship, and no questions asked. 

The sight of Oliver surrounded by these three friends, of whom it wouldhave been hard to say which was the happiest, made a deep impression onthe rest of the Fifth, and certainly did not tend to make them feel morecomfortable as to what they ought to do in a similar direction. 

"It's all very well, " said Ricketts, when the question was beingcanvassed for the hundredth time among his immediate friends. "I daresay they are all right, but it makes it jolly uncomfortable for us. "

"They oughtn't to have given in in this way without letting the rest ofus know first, " said Braddy. "Just see what a corner it puts us in. "

"All I can say is, " said Tom Senior, "I'll be better satisfied when Iknow who _did_ collar that paper if Greenfield didn't. "

"Oh, but, " said Simon, seeing a chance, "I can assure you I saw him whenhe took it. I was going--"

"Shut up, you great booby!" cried Ricketts; "who asked _you_ anythingabout it?"

Simon modestly retired hereupon, and Braddy took up the talk. 

"Yes, who did take the paper? that's it. Greenfield must have done it. Why, he as good as admitted it last term. "

"Well, then, it's very queer those fellows making up to him, " saidRicketts. "It's no use our trying to send the fellow to Coventry whenthe others don't back us up. "

"Wraysford always was daft about Greenfield, " said Tom Senior, "but I amastonished at Pembury and Bullinger. "

"All I can say is, " said Braddy, "Greenfield will have to ask me beforeI have anything to do with him. "

"And do you know, " said Ricketts, "I heard to-day he is down to play inthe match against the County. "

"Is he?" exclaimed Braddy in excitement; "very well, then. _I_ shallnot play if he does. That's all about that. "

Ricketts laughed. 

"Awfully sorry, old man, but you're not in the fifteen this time. "

Braddy's face was a picture at this moment--he turned red and blue andwhite in his astonishment. 

"What!" he exclaimed, as soon as he could find words. "I'm not in theteam!"

"You'll see the list on the notice board; you'd better go and look. "

Off went the wretched Braddy to be convinced of his fate. 

"You're in the team, Ricketts, I see, " said Tom Senior. "Shall _you_play if Greenfield does?"

"Don't know, " said Ricketts. "A fellow doesn't get a chance to playagainst the County every day. It's precious awkward. "

"So it is; that's just where we began, too, " said Tom, philosophically. And, as a matter of fact, whenever these young gentlemen of the Fifthstarted the subject of Greenfield senior among themselves, they alwaysfound themselves in the end at the identical place from which they hadset out. 

Nor were they the only boys at Saint Dominic's in this dilemma. TheGuinea-pigs and Tadpoles were equally taken aback by the new aspect ofaffairs. These young gentlemen had looked upon Oliver's "row" with hisclass as a peculiar mercy designed specially for their benefit. Theyhad hardly known such a happy time as that during which the row hadlasted. Did they want a pretext for a battle? Greenfield senior was aglorious bone of contention. Did they want an object for an indignationmeeting? What better object could they have than Greenfield senior?Did they want an excuse generally for laziness, disobedience, andtumult? Greenfield senior served for this too. Indeed, the name of theFifth Form Martyr had passed into a household word among the lowerschool, either of glory or reproach, and round it the small fry rallied, as round an old flag of battle. 

But now, both friend and foe were aghast. To the Guinea-pigs half thecharm of their position had been that they were Greenfield senior's solechampions in all Saint Dominic's. While every one else avoided him, they stuck to him, week-days and Sundays. Now, however, theydiscovered, with something like consternation, that they no longer hadthe field to themselves. 

The sight of Greenfield senior walking down the passage one day, arm-in-arm with Wraysford, and the next day with one arm in Wraysford'sand the other in Pembury's, and the day after between Pembury andBullinger, with Wraysford and Stephen in the rear, struck bewildermentand bitter jealousy to their hearts. 

They had come out into the passage to cheer, but they went away silentlyand sadly, feeling that their very occupation was departed. 

Bramble, always quick to see a chance, took advantage as usual of thispanic. 

"Hullo, I say, Guinea-pigs, you can shut up shop now, you know. We'regoing to let off Greenfield senior this time, ain't we, Padger? Jollyfellow, Greenfield senior. "

This was abominable! To have their hero and idol thus calmly taken outof their hands and appropriated by a set of sneaking Tadpoles was morethan human patience could endure!

"Bah! A lot he'll care for _your_ letting him off!" exclaimed Paul, indire contempt. "He wouldn't touch you with a shovel. "

"Oh, yes, he would, though, wouldn't he, Padger? And what do you think, Guinea-pigs? _we're going to get Greenfield senior to take the chair atone of our meetings_!"

Bramble came out with the last triumphant announcement with a positiveshout, which made the hearts of his adversaries turn cold. In vain theylaughed the idea to scorn; in vain they argued that if for the last sixmonths he had never said a word even to the Guinea-pigs, he would hardlynow come and take up with the Tadpoles. Bramble and Padger insisted ontheir story. 

"Now, you fellows, " concluded Bramble, at the end of another oration;"those who say three cheers for Greenfield senior hold up--"

The infuriated Paul here hurled the cap of a brother Guinea-pig, who wasstanding near him, full at the face of the speaker, who thereupon, altering the current of his observations, descended from his form and"went for" his opponent. 

From that day a keener war raged round the head of Greenfield seniorthan ever. Not of attack and defence of his character, but of rivalryas to whom should be accounted his foremost champions. 

It was at this critical period in the history of Saint Dominic's that anew number of the _Dominican_ came out. Pembury had been compelled towrite it nearly all himself, for, in the present state of dividedfeeling in the Fifth, he found it harder than ever to get contributions. 

Even those of his own way of thinking, Oliver, Wraysford, and Bullinger, begged to be let off, and, indeed, the two former ingeniously pleadedthat, as they were now really Sixth Form fellows (though remaining intheir old class till the Doctor came home), they had no right to have ahand in the Fifth Form magazine. And their conscientious scruples onthis ground were so strong that no persuasions of Anthony's could shakethem. So the unlucky editor had finally, as on a previous occasion, toretire into private life for a season, and get the whole thing outhimself, with only the aid of a few inches of "Sonits" from Simon. 

But "what man has done man can do, " and this time the editor's effortswere crowned with no less success than on the former occasion. 

The _Dominican_ certainly did not seem to have lost its novelty, tojudge by the crowd which once more assembled outside the classic portalsof the Fifth, to peruse the contents of the now familiar big oak frame. 

"School News" was the first item of Tony's bill of fare. 

After announcing in appropriate terms the Doctor's illness, and"universal hope of seeing him back in all his former vigour" (one or twoboys whistled low as they read this, and thought the editor might atleast have been content to "speak for himself"), Anthony went on toannounce the various school events which had happened since thepublication of the last number. Christmas prize-day of course came infor a good share of the description, and contained a touch-off foreverybody. 

"The Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles, " said the _Dominican_, "looked quiteunearthly in their cleanliness. It was commonly reported that one ortwo of them had washed their faces twice in one week. But this ishardly credible. It is, however, a fact that Bramble was shut up in hisstudy for half an hour with his grandmother and a basin of hot water, and that the conclusion come to from the yells and shrieks whichproceeded from the torture-chamber that evening, and the appearance ofthe dear child next day, is that he undoubtedly underwent one scrubbingthis term. "

Bramble's face turned so purple at the reading of this that it wasimpossible to say whether or not any traces of the scouring stillremained. He favoured Paul, who stood in front of him, with a furiouskick, which that young gentleman, always punctual in his obligations, promptly repaid, and the two combatants somehow managed to miss a gooddeal of what immediately followed. 

After describing the other incidents of prize-day, the _Dominican_ wenton as follows:

"But the event of the day was the presentation of the NightingaleScholarship, which will be sufficiently fresh in our readers' memoriesto need no comment here, save this one word--that the only Dominican whobehaved himself like a gentleman during that remarkable scene was thewinner of the scholarship himself!"

This was coming round with a vengeance! The Fifth had half expected it, and now they felt more uncomfortable than ever. 

Nor did the succeeding paragraphs leave them much chance of recovery. 

"The Waterston Exhibition, our readers will be glad to hear, has beenwon--and won brilliantly--by Oliver Greenfield, now of the Sixth. Nofellow in Saint Dominic's deserves the honour better. "

Then, as if his penitence were not yet complete, Pembury went on boldlyfarther on:

"Speaking of Greenfield senior, it is time some of us who have beendoing him injustice for a whole term did what little we could to makeamends now. So here goes. Take notice, all of you, that we, theundersigned, are heartily ashamed of our conduct to Greenfield senior, and desire all Saint Dominic's to know it. Signed, A. Pembury, H. Wraysford, T. Bullinger. "

The effect of this manifesto was curious. Pembury himself had beenunable to prophesy how it would be taken. The boys in front of theboard, as they heard it read out, couldn't tell exactly whether to laughor be serious over the paragraph. Most, however, did the latter, andhurried on to the next sentence:

"The following are also ashamed of themselves, but don't like to say so. The _Dominican_ means to give them a leg up:--Tom Senior, G. Ricketts, R. Braddy, and the rest of the Fifth, except Simon, who never was orcould be ashamed of himself while he lived to write such pathetic, soul-stirring lines as the following `Sonits:'"

[It was a great relief to one or two who stood by that Pembury had thuscunningly gone on from grave to gay, and left no pause after the veryawkward paragraph about the Fifth. ]

 Sonit A. 

 To the _Dominican_. 

 I cannot write as I would like all in a noisy room There's such a noise of mortal boys who sometimes go and come Oh I will to the woods away all in the lonely shade Where I no more of being disturbed need not to be afraid. 

 Sonit B. 

 To Dr Senior. 

 Dear Doctor I am very grieved to hear that you are not well Oh cruel fate and yet methinks one cannot always tell Things are so catching nowadays I wonder if I ever Shall like unto the Doctor be by catching a low fever. 

 Sonit C. 

 To O-- G--. 

 Oh Greenfield melancholy wite hear me once before I go 'Tis sad to see the blossoms all in autumn time fall low Canst thou recall that night in September when in the passage fair I met you all so unexpectedly and you didn't seem to care Oh may my hair turn white and me become a soreing lark Before the memory of that day shines out in life's last spark. 

 [Wite, possibly wight. ]

This was beautiful. Saint Dominic's was beginning to appreciate poetryat last! Simon was positively delirious with triumph when, after theburst of laughter (he called it applause) which greeted the reading ofthis gem, some one cried out--

"Oh, I say! read that last one again, some one!" And then, amidredoubled hilarity, the whole effusion was encored. 

The poet promptly sought out his enthusiastic admirer. 

"Oh! I say, " said he, "would you like a copy of it?"

"Eh--oh, rather!" was the reply. 

"Very good. You won't mind if I put a few more verses in, will you?Pembury had to cut some out. "

"My dear fellow, I shan't be happy unless I get at least twenty pages. "

So off went the delighted Simon to work at this self-imposed task, andcaring little about the rest of the _Dominican_. 

But some of that was worth reading, too. Tony's leading article, forinstance, was an important document. It was headed "Gone Up, " andbegan, "Alas! our occupation's gone! No longer will the _Dominican_ beable to bring its sledge-hammer down on high places and walk into theSixth. For two of our men, O Fifth!--Greenfield and Wraysford--havejoined the classic ranks of those who eat toffee in the top form, andplay `odds and evens' under the highest desks of Saint Dominic's. Wemust be careful now, or we shall catch it. And yet we ought tocongratulate the Sixth! At last they have got intelligence and highprinciple, and two good men behind a scrimmage among them; and more arecoming! There's some hope for the Sixth yet, and we would not grudgeeven our two best men for such a good object as regenerating the topform of Saint Dominic's, " and so on--not very flattering to the Sixth, or very comfortable for its two newest members, who, however, hadprudently retired from the scene long ago, as soon as the firstreferences to Oliver had been read out. 

Then came "Notes from Coventry, continued, " which were very brief. "Since our last, the population of Coventry has undergone a change. Theformer inhabitant has walked out with flying colours, and the place isempty. Who wants to go?"

Then came one or two odd paragraphs; one of them was:--

"By the way, the _Dominican_ wants to know why Loman is no longer amonitor? Do his engagements with friends in Maltby prevent his givingthe necessary time to this duty? or are the Sixth beginning to see thatif they want order in the school they must have fellows who have atleast a little influence to do it? They have done well in appointingWraysford. But why is Loman resigned? Who can tell? It's a riddle. Aprize for the best answer in our next. "

The finishing stroke, however, was Pembury's "Notes and Queries fromDown Below, " supposed to be of special interest to the Fourth Junior. The first was as follows:--

"Lessons. --Padger the Tadpole writes to ask, `How do you do lessons?'The answer is a simple one, Padger. If you are a member of the FourthJunior, as we have a vague idea you are, the way of `doing' lessonsthere is as follows: Sit at a desk full of old cherry-stones, orange-peel, and dusty sherbet, and put your elbows on it. Then withyour pen scatter as much ink as you conveniently can over your owncollar and face, and everybody else, without unduly exerting yourself. After that kick your right and left neighbours; then carefully rub yourhands in the dust and pass them several times over your countenance, allthe while making the most hideous and abominable howls and shrieks youcan invent. And then your lessons are `done. '"

This paragraph so grievously incensed the honourable community at whichit was directed, that for the first time for some months Guinea-pigs andTadpoles made common cause to protest against the base insinuations itcontained. 

The "meeting" in the Fourth Junior that afternoon lasted, on and off, from half-past four to half-past eight. Among the speakers wereBramble, Paul, and Stephen; while Padger, Walker, and Rook did very goodexecution with their fists. About half-past seven the dust was so densethat it was impossible to see across the room; but those who knewreported that there was another row on about Greenfield senior, and thatPaul and Padger were having their twenty-seventh round! Anyhow, theGuinea-pigs and Tadpoles missed the rest of the _Dominican_, which, however, only contained one other paragraph of special interest:

"To-morrow week the football match of the season, School against County, will be played in the Saint Dominic's meadow. We are glad to say theSchool team will be a crack one, including this time Greenfield senior, and excluding one or two of the `incompetents' of last term. Thefollowing is the school fifteen:--Stansfield (football captain), Brown, Winter, Callonby, Duncan, Ricketts, T. Senior, Henderson, Carter, andWatkins, forwards; Wren (school captain) and Forrester (iv. ), quarter-back; Greenfield and Bullinger, half-back; and Wraysford, back. With a team like this the school ought to give a good account of itselfagainst our visitors. "

This announcement was interesting in more than one respect. Greenfield_was_ in the team, Loman was _not_. 

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. 

A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 

It is now time to return to Loman, whom we left two chapters ago, withhis usual luck, standing in Greenfield's study with the 8 pounds in hishand which was finally to clear him of all his troubles, set him oncefor all on his feet again, and take such a weight off his mind as oughtto leave him the lightest-hearted boy in all Saint Dominic's. 

He stood there for a minute or two after Oliver and Wraysford had leftthe room, too bewildered to collect his thoughts or realise one-half ofhis good fortune, for he had come to Oliver in his extremity as adesperate chance, fully expecting an angry rebuff--or, at best, achilling snub. But to get through the interview like this, and find themoney in his hand within three minutes of his entering the room--why, itquite took his breath away. 

Oliver Greenfield _was_ a queer, unaccountable fellow, and no mistake!

Yet, strange to say, when Loman did come to himself he did not burst outinto a rapture of delight and gratitude. On the contrary, he suddenlyfelt himself growing to such a pitch of misery and low spirits as evenin the worst of his troubles he had never experienced. He repentedbitterly of ever bringing himself to come and ask such a favour of hisworst enemy, and, stranger than all, he felt his dislike for Greenfieldincreased rather than swept away by this abrupt, startling piece ofgenerosity. Strange the whims that seize us! Loman would almost havebeen happier in his old suspense about Cripps than to feel he owed sucha debt to such a creditor. 

However, the thought of Cripps, his other creditor, flashed suddenlythrough his mind at that moment, so, closing his hand over the money, heturned moodily and left the room. 

At any rate, he would get clear of Cripps now he had the chance. 

As soon as ever morning school was over he took his hat and traversedonce more the familiar road between Saint Dominic's and the Cockchafer. "Is Cripps at home?" he inquired of the potboy. 

"Yas, " said the boy. "Who wants him?"

"I do, you young blockhead!"

"You do? Oh, all right! I'll tell him, mister. Don't you collar nomugs while I'm gone, mind!"

The very potboys despised and ridiculed him!

Loman waited patiently for a quarter of an hour, when the boy returned. 

"Oh!" said he, "the governor can't see you, he says. He's a-smoking hispipe, he says, and he ain't a-goin' to put himself about, he says, forthe likes of you. That's what he says! Ti ridde tol rol ro!" and herethe youth indulged in a spitefully cheerful carol as he resumed thepolishing of the mugs. 

"Look here!" said Loman, miserable and half frightened, "tell him I_must_ see him; I've got some money for him, tell him. "

"No! have you?" said the boy. "Well, wait till I've done this herejob--I'm dead on this here job, I am! You can keep, you can. "

This was too much even for the dispirited and cowed Loman. He caughtthe impudent boy a box on the ear, which resounded all over theCockchafer, and sent him howling and yelling to his master. 

Cripps appeared at last in a fury. What, he demanded, with half a dozenoaths, did Loman mean by coming there and assaulting him and hisassistants? "What do you mean, you thieving jackanapes, you! Get outof my shop, do you hear? or I'll get some one in who will help you out!_I'll_ teach you to come here and make yourself at home, you lying--"

"Now, Cripps, " began Loman. 

"Hold your noise! do you hear?" said Cripps, savagely. 

"I'm very sorry, Cripps, " said the wretched boy; "I didn't mean to hurthim, but he--"

"Oh! you won't go, won't you? Very good! we'll see if we can make you;"and Cripps departed from the bar, leaving his young "patron" in anythingbut a comfortable frame of mind. 

For once in a way, however, Loman was roused, and would not go. Theboy--miserable specimen as he was--had some courage in him, and whenonce goaded up to the proper pitch it came out. If he went, he arguedto himself, Cripps would certainly come up to Saint Dominic's after him. If he waited till the police or some of the roughs came and ejected himhe could not be much worse off; and there was a chance that, byremaining, he might still be able to pacify his evil genius. 

So he stayed. Another quarter of an hour passed; no one came to turnhim out. A few customers came into the bar and were served by the sulkypotboy, but there was no sign of Cripps. 

"Go and tell your master I'm here still, and want to see himparticularly, " said Loman, presently, to the boy. 

The boy looked up and scowled and rubbed his ear, but somehow thattimely blow of Loman's had wrought wonders with his spirit, for hequietly went off and did as he was bid. 

In a few minutes he came back and delivered the laconic message, "You'regot to wait. "

This was satisfactory as far as it went. Loman did wait, simmeringinwardly all the time, and not wholly losing his desperation before onceagain Cripps appeared and beckoned him inside. 

"Here's the rest of the money, " said Loman, hurriedly. "You can give meback the bill now, Cripps. "

Cripps took up the money, counted it and pocketed it, and then turned onhis victim with an impudent smile. 

"Give me the bill, " repeated Loman, suddenly turning pale with thedreadful misgiving that after all he had not got rid of the blackguard. 

"What do you want the bill for?" asked Cripps, laughing. 

"Want it for? Why, Cripps--" and here Loman stopped short. 

"Fire away, " said Cripps. 

"I've paid you all I owe, " said Loman, trembling. 

"What if you have?"

"Then give me back that bill!"

Cripps only laughed--a laugh which drove the boy frantic. The villainwas going to play him false after all. He had got the money, everyfarthing of it, and now he was going to retain the bill which containedLoman's promise to pay the whole amount! Poor Loman, he was no match incunning for this rogue. Who would believe him that he had paid, whenCripps was still able to produce the promise signed with his own name todo so?

Bitterly did the boy repent the day when first, by a yielding to deceit, he had put himself in the power of such a villain!

He was too confounded and panic-struck to attempt either argument orpersuasion. He felt himself ruined, and muttering, in a voice whichtrembled with misery, "I must tell father all about it, " he turned togo. 

Oh, Loman! Why have you left such a resolve till now? Why, like thatother prodigal, have you waited till everything else has failed, tillyour own resources and cunning have been exhausted to the last dregs, before you turn and say this!

The boy uttered the words involuntarily, not intending that they shouldbe heard. Little he thought Cripps or any one would heed them. ButCripps did heed them. His quick ear caught the words, and they _had_ ameaning for him; for he might be able to cheat and browbeat and swindlea boy, but when it came to dealing no longer with the boy, but with theboy's father, Cripps was sharp enough to know that was a very differentmatter. He had relied on the boy's fears of exposure and his dread ofhis father's anger to carry his extortions to the utmost limit withconfidence. But now he had gone a step too far. When, in hisdesperation, the boy naturally turned to the very being he had all alongmost carefully kept ignorant of his proceedings, it was time for Crippsto pull up. 

He stopped Loman as he was going away, with a laugh, as he said, in hisold tones, "Steady there, young gentleman, what a hurry you are in! Aman can't have a little bit of fun, just to see how you like it, butthere you go, and give it all up, and go and get yourself into a regularperspiration! Tell the governor, indeed! You don't suppose I'd let youget yourself into such a mess as all that, do you? No, no. You shallhave the bill, my man, never fear. "

"Oh, thank you, Cripps, thank you!" cried Loman, in a sudden convulsionof gratitude and relief. 

"'Pon my word, I might take offence, that I might, at your wanting thepaper. As if _I'd_ ever take advantage of a young gentleman like you!No, no; honesty's the best policy for us poor folks as well as for younobs. No one can say I defrauded any one. "

"Oh, no, of course not, " cried Loman, enthusiastically. "I should liketo see any one who did!"

Mr Cripps, smiling sweetly and modestly, went to his cupboard, andafter a good deal of fumbling and search, produced the little slip ofblue paper he was looking for. 

"Is that it?" cried the excited Loman. 

"Looks like it, " said Cripps, unfolding it and reading out, with hisback to the boy, "`Three months after date I promise to pay GeorgeCripps thirty-five pounds, value received. Signed, E. Loman. ' That'sabout it, eh, young gentleman? Well, blessed if I ain't a soft-heartedchap after the doing you've given me over this here business. Lookhere; here goes. "

And so saying, Mr Cripps first tore the paper up into little bits, andthen threw the whole into the fire before the eyes of the delightedLoman. 

"Thanks, Cripps, thanks, " said the boy. "I am so glad everything'ssettled now, and I am so sorry to have kept you waiting so long. "

"Oh, well, as long as it's been an obligement to you, I don't so muchcare, " said the virtuous Cripps. "And now you've done with me I supposeyou'll cut me dead, eh, young gentleman? Just the way. You stick to usas long as you can get anything out of us, and then we're nobodies. "

And here Mr Cripps looked very dejected. 

"Oh, no, " said Loman, "I don't mean to cut you, Cripps. I shall comedown now and then--really I will--when I can manage it. Good-bye now. "

And he held out his hand. 

Foolish and wicked as Loman was, there was still left in him some ofthat boyish generosity which makes one ready to forget injuries andquick to acknowledge a good turn. Loman forgot for a moment all thehideous past, with its suspense and humiliations and miseries, andremembered only that Cripps had torn up the bill and allowed him toclear off accounts once for all at the hated Cockchafer. Alas! he hadforgotten, too, about telling all to his father!

"Good-day, young gentleman, " said Cripps, with a pensive face which madethe boy quite sorry to see. 

He shook hands cordially and gratefully, and departed lighter in heartthan he had felt for some time. 

But as he returned to Saint Dominic's the thought of Oliver, and of hisdebt to him, returned, and turned again all his satisfaction intovexation. He wished he had the money that moment to fling back into thefellow's face!

I don't pretend to explain this whim of Loman's. It may have been hisconscience which prompted it. For a mean person nearly always detestsan honest one, and the more open and generous the one is, the meaner theother feels in his own heart by contrast. 

However, for some days Loman had not the painful reminder of his debtoften before his eyes; for as long as the Doctor was absent Oliverremained in the Fifth. 

At length, however, the head master returned, restored and well, andimmediately the "removes" were put into force, and Oliver and Wraysfordfound themselves duly installed on the lowest bench of the Sixth--theonly other occupant of which was Loman. The two friends, however, heldvery little intercourse with their new class-fellow, and Oliver neveronce referred to the eight pounds; and, like every one and everythingelse, Loman grew accustomed to the idea of being his rival's debtor, and, as the days went on, ceased to be greatly troubled by the fact atall. 

But an event happened one day, shortly after the Doctor's return, whichgave every one something else to think about besides loans and debtors. 

It was the morning of the day fixed for the great football match againstthe County, and every one, even the Sixth and Fifth, chafed somewhat atthe two hours appointed on such a day for so mundane an occupation aslessons. 

Who could think of lessons when any minute the County men might turn up?Who could be bothered with dactyls and spondees when goal-posts andtouch-lines were far more to the point? And who could be expected tofix his mind on hexameters and elegiacs when the height of humanperfection lay in a straight drop-kick or a fast double past the enemy'shalf-backs? However, the Doctor had made up his mind Latin versesshould get their share of attention that morning, and the two head formswere compelled to submit as best they could. 

Now, on this occasion, the Doctor was specially interested in thesubject in hand, and waxed more than usually eloquent over thecomparative beauties of Horace and Virgil and Ovid, and went into theminutest details about their metres. Over one line which contained whatseemed to be a false quantity he really became excited. 

"It is a most remarkable thing, and I am really pleased we have fallenon the passage, " said he, "that this identical mistake, if it is amistake, occurs in a line of Juvenal; it is in the--dear me, I haveforgotten how it begins! Has any one here a Juvenal?"

"I have one in my study, sir, " said Loman. (Juvenal had been one of theLatin subjects for the Nightingale. )

"Ah! Would you fetch it, Loman, please? I think I know precisely wherethe line occurs. "

Loman rose and went for the book, which he found upon his bookcase, enjoying a dignified and dusty repose on the top shelf. Carefullybrushing off the dust, so as to give the volume a rather less unusedlook, he returned with it to the class-room, and handed it to theDoctor. 

"Thank you, Loman. Now, it is in the Fourth--no, the Fifth Satire, "said he, turning over the pages. "Let me see--yes, not far from--ah!"

This last exclamation was uttered in a voice which made every boy in theroom look suddenly up and fix his eyes on the Doctor. It was evidentlysomething more than an exclamation of recognition on finding the desiredpassage. There was too much surprise and too much pain in the word forthat. 

Was the Doctor ill? He closed the book and sat back in his chair in asort of bewilderment. Then suddenly, and with an evident effort, recovering himself, he let his eyes once more rest on the closedJuvenal. 

"Loman, " he said, "will you come and find the passage for me? Turn tothe Fifth Satire. "

Loman obeyed, much wondering, notwithstanding, why the Doctor should askhim, of all people, to come up and turn to the passage. 

He advanced to the head master's desk and took up the Juvenal. 

"The Fifth Satire, " repeated the Doctor, keeping his eyes on the book. 

Certainly the Doctor was very queer this morning. One would suppose hislife depended on the discovery of that unlucky line, so keenly hewatched Loman as he turned over the pages. 

Was the book bewitched? Loman, as he held it, suddenly turned deadlywhite, and closed it quickly, as if between the leaves there lay ascorpion! Then again, seeing the Doctor's eye fixed on him, he openedit, and, with faltering voice, began to read the line. 

"That will do. Hand me the book, Loman. "

The Doctor's voice, as he uttered these words, was strangely solemn. 

Loman hurriedly took a paper from between the leaves and handed the bookto the Doctor. 

"Hand me that paper, Loman!"

Loman hesitated. 

"Obey me, Loman!"

Loman looked once at the Doctor, and once at the Juvenal; then, with agroan, he flung the paper down on to the desk. 

The Doctor took it up. 

"This paper, " said he, slowly, and in an agitated voice--"this paper isthe missing paper of questions for the Nightingale Scholarship lastterm. Loman, remain here, please. The other boys may go. "

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. 

THE MATCH AGAINST THE COUNTY. 

The boys, astounded and bewildered by this unexpected revelation, slowlyrose to obey the Doctor's order, leaving Loman alone with the headmaster. 

The boy was ashy pale as Dr Senior turned to him and said, solemnly--

"How do you account for this, Loman?"

Loman lowered his eyes and made no reply. 

"Answer me please, Loman. Can you account for this?"

"No. "

"Did you ever see this paper before?"

"No. "

"Do you know how it came into your Juvenal?"

"No. "

"Did you know anything at all about the lost paper?"

"No. "

The Doctor looked long and searchingly at him as he said once more--

"Loman, are you sure you are telling me the truth? You know nothingwhatever about the paper--never saw it before this moment?"

"No. "

"You knew the paper had been missed off my desk?"

"Yes. "

"Had you the least reason for believing any boy took it?"

Loman hesitated. 

"I would rather not say, " he said at last. 

"You must please answer me frankly, Loman. Had you any reason, I ask, for believing any boy took the paper?"

"Must I say?" asked Loman. 

"Yes--you must. "

"Well, then, I did fancy some one had taken it. "

"Who?"

"Greenfield senior, " said Loman, flushing quickly as he said the name. 

"And what made you suspect Greenfield senior?"

"All the boys suspected him. "

"That is not an answer, Loman. Why?"

"Because, for one thing, " said Loman, sullenly, "he was seen coming outof your study that evening. "

"And why else?"

"Because he came out so high in the exam. "

"And for these reasons you suspected Greenfield of taking the paper?Why did you not mention the matter to me?"

Loman did his best to look virtuous. 

"I did not wish to get any one into trouble. "

"And you preferred to let an affair like this go on without taking anysteps to have it cleared up? Did Greenfield deny the charge?"

"No. "

"Did he admit it?"

"Very nearly. He wouldn't speak to any one for months. "

"And you really believe that Greenfield took the paper?"

Loman looked up at the Doctor for a moment and answered, "Yes. "

"Did you lend him your Juvenal at any time?"

"Not that I remember. "

"Do you suppose he put the paper in the book?"

"I couldn't say; but I don't see who else could. "

"That will do, Loman; you can go. Kindly leave the paper and theJuvenal with me. "

Loman turned to go, but the Doctor stopped him with one more question. 

"You know, I suppose, that the questions which you actually had set forthe Nightingale examination were quite different from those on thepaper?"

"Yes, " said Loman. "I mean--that is, " he added, stammering, and takingup the paper in question. "I see by this paper they were quitedifferent. "

"Yes; you can go now, Loman. "

There was something so solemn and hard in the head master's voice as hedismissed the boy that Loman felt very uncomfortable as he slowlydeparted to his own study. 

_He_, at any rate, was in no humour for enjoying the big football matchwhich was just beginning. 

And it must be confessed the event of the morning had had the effect ofdisconcerting a good many more than himself. Stansfield had quite hardwork going round among his troops and rousing them once more to theproper pitch of enthusiasm. 

"What--whatever does it matter, " he said, "if the fellow did take it?_You_ didn't take it, Winter, or you, Wren; and what on earth's the useof getting down in the mouth, and perhaps losing the match, because ofit? We're always having our football spoiled by something or other, " headded with a groan. "I'll tell you what it is, let's only lick thesefellows this afternoon, and then I'll howl and groan and do anything youlike, for a week. "

There was no resisting such a generous offer. The fellows made up theirminds to forget everything else that afternoon but the County, and so toplay that the County should have some difficulty in soon forgettingthem. 

"Fire away, you fellows, and peel!" cried Stansfield, as Oliver andWraysford sauntered past. 

They fired away. But while dressing they exchanged a few words on theforbidden subject. 

"Did you ever expect it would be brought home to Loman like this, Noll?"asked Wray. 

"No, I didn't. And yet in a way--"

"Eh? What do you say?"

"Why, Wray, you remember me saying that evening, after I left the study, the only fellow I met in the passage besides Simon was Loman?"

"Yes; so you did. "

"He was going towards the Doctor's study, " said Oliver. 

"Hum! I remember now you said so. "

"And yet, " continued Oliver, plunging into his jersey--"and yet I can'tsee how, if he did take the paper, he didn't do better in the exam. Hecame out so very low. "

"Yes, that's queer, unless he took a fit of repentance all of a sudden, and didn't look at it. "

"Then it's queer he didn't destroy it, instead of sticking it in hisJuvenal. "

"Well, I suppose the Doctor will clear it up, now he's on the scent. "

"I suppose so, " said Oliver; "but, I say, old man, " he added, "of coursethere's no need for us to say anything about it to anybody. The poorbeggar doesn't want _our_ help to get him into trouble. "

"No, indeed. I'd be as glad, quite, if it were found to be anotherwrong scent, after all, " said Wraysford. "The fellow's in a bad enoughway as it is. "

"Are you nearly ready, you two?" thundered Stansfield at the door. 

"Just ready!" they exclaimed; and in another minute they, too, haddismissed from their minds everything but Saint Dominic's versus County, as they trotted off to join the rest of their comrades on the field ofbattle. 

And, indeed, for the next two hours there was no opportunity, even, hadthey desired it, for any one to think of anything but this momentousstruggle. 

For three years running the County had beaten the schoolboys, each timeworse than before, until at last the latter had got to be afraid theothers would begin to think them foemen not worthy of their steel. Thisyear they hardly dared hope a better fate than before, for the enemywere down in force. Yet the boys had determined to die hard, and atleast give their adversaries all the trouble they could before theirgoal should fall; and of this they were all the more sanguine, becausetheir team was the very best the school could muster, and not a manamong them but knew his business, and could be depended on to do it too. 

Bad luck! Of course, just when it's not wanted there's a breeze got up, blowing right down the field, and in the very teeth of the schoolboys, who have lost the toss, and have to play from the oak-tree end for thefirst half of the game!

"It's always the way, " growls Ricketts. "They'll simply eat us up whilethey've got the chance, you see!"

"No they won't, " says Stansfield, bound to take a cheerful view ofthings. "We're strong in backs. It's not like last match, whenGreenfield wasn't playing, and Loman was there to make such a mess ofit. "

"Well, it's a comfort, that, anyhow. "

"Of course it is, " says the captain. "What you fellows have got to dois to keep the ball in close, and nurse it along all the while, or elserun--but you'd better let the quarter-backs do that. "

This sage advice is not thrown away on the worthies who lead the van forSaint Dominic's, and an opportunity for putting it into practice occursthe moment the game begins. For the School has to kick-off, and tokick-off against that wind is a hopeless business. Stansfield does notattempt anything like a big kick, but just drives the ball hard and lowon to the legs of the County forwards, sending his own men close afterit, so that a scrimmage is formed almost at the very spot where the ballgrounds. 

"Now, School, sit on it! Do you hear?" calls out the captain; andcertainly it looks as if that unhappy ball were never destined to seethe light again. The enemy's forwards cannot get it out from among thefeet of the School forwards, try all they will, until, by sheer weight, they simply force it through. And then, when it does go through, thereis young Forrester of the Fourth ready for it, and next moment it isback in its old place in the middle of the "mush. " In due time, out itcomes again--this time on Wren's side--and once again, after a shortrun, there it is again, on almost the identical spot of earth where ithas undergone its last two poundings. 

"Played up, Dominies!" cries out Stansfield, cheerily. "Stick to itnow!"

Stick to it they do, with the wind fresh on their faces, and the Countyfellows charging and plunging and shoving like fury upon them. 

Ah! there goes the ball, out at the County end for a wonder. Thespectators cheer loudly for the schoolboys. Little they know! It hadmuch better have stayed there among their feet than roll out into theopen. The County quarter-back has it in his hands in a twinkling, andin another twinkling he has lifted it with a drop-kick high into theair, all along the wind, which carries it, amid cheers and shouts, rightup to the boundary of the School goal. 

So much for cutting through the scrimmage!

Wraysford, the Dominican "back, " is ready for it when it drops, and, without touching-down, runs out with it. He is a cautious fellow, isWraysford, and does not often try this game. But the ball has faroutstripped the enemy's forwards, and so he has a pretty open field. But not for long. In a _few_ seconds the County is upon him, and he andthe ball are no longer visible. Then follow a lot more scrimmages, withsimilar results. It is awfully slow for the spectators, but Stansfieldrejoices over it, and the County men chafe. 

"Can't you let it out there? Play looser, and let it through, " saystheir captain. 

Loose it is. 

"That's better!" says the County captain, as presently the ball comesout with a bound full into the quarter-back's hands, who holds it, and, to the horror of the boys, makes his mark before he can be collared. 

The scrimmage has been near up to the Dominican goal--within a kick--andnow, as the schoolboys look round first at the goal and then at theCounty man with the ball, the distance looks painfully small. And evenif it were greater, this wind would do the business. 

The County man takes plenty of room back from his mark, up to which theSchool forwards stand ready for one desperate rush the moment the balltouches the ground. Alas, it is no go! They have a knowing hand and aquick foot to deal with. Before they can cover the few yards whichdivide them, the ball is dropped beautifully, and flies, straight as anarrow, over the cross-bar, amid the tremendous cheers of the County menand their friends. 

"Never mind!" says Stansfield, as his men walk out once more to thefray, "they shan't get another before half-time!"

Won't they? Such is the perversity of that creature people call Luck, and such is the hatred it has for anything like a boast, that twominutes--only two minutes--after the words are out of the captain'smouth another Dominican goal has fallen. 

For Stansfield in kicking off gets his foot too much under the ball, which consequently rises against the wind and presents an easy catch toany one who comes out to take it. A County forward sees his chance. Rushing up, he catches the ball, and instantaneously, so it seems, drop-kicks it, a tremendous kick clean over the School goal, before eventhe players have all taken up their places after the last catastrophe. 

This is dreadful! worse than ever! Never in their worst days had such athing happened. For once in a way Stansfield's hopefulness deserts him, and he feels the School is in for an out-and-out hiding. 

The captain would like extremely to blow some one up, if he only knewwhom. It is so aggravating sometimes to have no one to blow-up. Nothing relieves the feelings so, does it?

However, Stansfield has to bottle up his feelings, and, behold! oncemore he and his men are in battle array. 

This time it's steady all again, and the ball is kept well out of sight. It can't even slip out behind now, as before; for the Schoolquarter-backs are up to that dodge, and ready to pounce upon it beforeit can be lifted or sent flying. Indeed, the only chance the wretchedball has of seeing daylight is--

Hullo! half-time!

The announcement falls on joyful ears among the Dominicans. They haveworked hard and patiently against heavy odds; and they feel they reallydeserve this respite. 

Now, at last, if the wind wouldn't change for them, they have changedover to the wind, which blows no longer in their faces, but gratefullyon to their backs. 

The kick-off is a positive luxury under such circumstances; Stansfieldneedn't be afraid of skying the ball now, and he isn't. It shoots upwith a prodigious swoop and soars right away to touch-line, so that theCounty's "back" is the first of their men to go into action. He bringsthe ball back deftly and prettily, slipping in and out among his ownmen, who get beside him as a sort of bodyguard, ready at any moment tocarry on the ball. It is ludicrous to see Ricketts and Winter andCallonby flounder about after him. The fellow is like an eel. Onemoment you have him, the next he's away; now you're sure of him, nowhe's out of all reach. Ah! Stansfield's got him at last! No hehasn't; but Winter has--No, Winter has lost him; and--just look--he'spast all the School forwards, no one can say how. 

Young Forrester tackles him gamely--but young Forrester is no hand ateel-catching; in fact, the eel catches Forrester, and leaves himgracefully on his back. Past the quarter-backs! The man has a charmedlife!

Ah! Greenfield has got him at last. Yes, Mr Eel, you may wriggle ashard as you like, but you'd hardly find your way out of that gripwithout leave!

Altogether this is a fine run, and makes the School see that even withthe wind they are not going to have it all their own way. However, theywarm up wonderfully after this. 

Steady is still the word (what grand play we should get if it werealways the word at football, you schoolboys! You may kick and run andscrimmage splendidly, but you are not steady--but this is digression). Steady is still the word, and _every_ minute Saint Dominic's pullsbetter together. The forwards work like one man, and, lighter weightthough they are, command the scrimmages by reason of their good"packing. "

Wren and young Forrester, the quarter-backs, are "dead on" the ball themoment it peeps out from the scrimmage; and behind them at half-backOliver and Bullinger are not missing a chance. If they did, Wraysfordis behind them, a prince of "backs. "

Oh, for a chance to put this fine machinery into motion! Time isflying, and the umpire is already fidgeting with his watch. Oh, for onechance! And while we speak here it comes. A County man has just dartedup along the touch-line half the length of the field. Wren goes out tomeet him, and behind Wren--too close behind--advances Oliver. TheCounty man thinks twice before delivering himself up into the clutchesof one of these heroes, and ends his run with a kick, which, Oliverbeing not in his place, Wraysford runs forward to take. Now Wraysfordhas hardly had a run this afternoon. He means to have one now! And hedoes have one. He takes the ball flying, gives one hurried look round, and then makes right for the thick of the fray. Who backs him up?Greenfield for one, and all the rest of Saint Dominic's for the other. 

"Stick close!" he says to Oliver, as he flies past. Oliver wants nobidding. He follows his man like a shadow. In and out among theforwards, and round about past the quarter-backs; and when at lastWraysford is borne down by a combined force of half andthree-quarter-backs, Greenfield is there to take the ball on. 

"Look-out there!" cries the County captain, "mark that man. " The Countydoes mark that man, and they have the painful task of marking him passone half-back and floor another before he is arrested. 

"I'm here!" cries Wraysford's voice at that moment; and next instant theball is again hurrying on towards the County goal in Wraysford's arms, Greenfield once more being in close attendance. 

And now the County backs come into action, and the first of them collarsWraysford. But it is Oliver who collars the ball, and amid the shouts, and howls, and cheers of players and spectators rushes it still onward. The second "back" is the County's only remaining hope, nor surely willhe fail. He rushes at Oliver. Oliver rushes at him. Wraysford, oncemore on his feet, rushes on them both. 

"Look-out for the ball there!" is the panic cry of the County. Ay, lookindeed! Oliver is down, but Wraysford has it, and walks with it merrilyover the County's goal-line, and deposits it on the ground in the exactcentre of the posts. 

"There never was such a rush-up, or such a pretty piece of double play, "say the knowing ones among the onlookers; and when a minute later theball is brought out, and Stansfield kicks it beautifully over the goal, every one says that it is one of the best-earned goals that old meadowhas ever seen kicked, and that Saint Dominic's, though beaten, hasnothing in that day's performance to be ashamed of. 

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. 

A VOCAL, INSTRUMENTAL, AND DRAMATIC ENTERTAINMENT IN THE FOURTH JUNIOR. 

Now among those who were present to witness the famous "rush-up" ofGreenfield senior and Wraysford, which ended in the fall of the Countygoal, was one boy who showed very little enthusiasm over theachievement, or very little delight at the glory which the schoolthereby derived. 

Loman, who, unable to sit in his study, and not knowing what else to do, had wandered almost instinctively to the meadow, found himself on thisparticular afternoon one of the most miserable boys in Saint Dominic's. 

Two years ago, when he first entered the school, he was popular with hisfellows and voted an acquisition on the cricket-ground andfootball-field whenever the youth of Saint Dominic's strove in emulationagainst their rivals. He could remember a time when fellows strolledarm-in-arm with him down to the matches; when the small boys lookedquite meek in his presence, and the masters gave a friendly nod inanswer to his salutes. That was when he was quite new at SaintDominic's; but how changed now! This afternoon, for instance, as hestood looking on, he had the cheerful knowledge that not a boy in allthat assembly cared two straws about him. Why wasn't _he_ playing inthe match? Why did the fellows, as they came near him, look straight infront of them, or go round to avoid him? Why did the Guinea-pigs andTadpoles strut about and crack their vulgar jokes right under his verynose, as if he was nobody? Alas, Loman! something's been wrong with youfor the last year or thereabouts; and if we don't all know the cause, wecan see the effect. For it is a fact, you _are_ nobody in the eyes ofSaint Dominic's at the present time. 

However, he was destined to become a somebody pretty soon; and, indeed, as soon as the football match was over, and the supper after it wasdisposed of, and the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles (who, you know, hadselected this same afternoon _for their_ great football match) hadceased their rows in slumber, every one's mind, at least the mind ofevery one in the two head forms, turned naturally to the strange andmysterious event of the morning. What various conclusions they came toit is not for me to set down here. They probably came to as good aconclusion as the reader has done, and waited impatiently to have thewhole thing cleared up. 

And it looked as if the Doctor were about to do this next morning, forhe summoned together the Fifth and Sixth, and thus solemnly addressedthem:--

"Before we begin the lesson for the day, boys, I wish to refer to anincident that happened here yesterday morning, which must be fresh inyour memories. I mean the accidental discovery of the lost examinationpaper for the Nightingale Scholarship. I hope you will not draw hastyconclusions from what then occurred. The boy in whose book the paperwas found is present here, and has assured me on his honour he never sawthe paper before, and is quite ignorant how it came into his book. Thatis so, Loman?"

"Yes, sir, " replied Loman. 

"When a boy makes a statement to me on his honour, I accept it as such, "said the Doctor, very gravely, and looking hard at the boy. "I acceptit as such--"

Loman sat motionless with his eyes on the desk before him. 

"But, " went on the Doctor, turning again to the boys, "before I dismissthe subject I must do justice to one among you who I find, much to mypain, has been an object of suspicion in connection with this same lostpaper. Greenfield senior, I have no hesitation in saying, is perfectlyclear of any such imputation as that you put upon him. I may say in hispresence I believe him to be incapable of a fraudulent and mean act; andfurther than that, you boys will be interested to hear that thequestions which he answered so brilliantly in that examination were notthe questions which appeared on the lost paper at all, but an entirelynew set, which for my own satisfaction I drew up on the morning ofexamination itself. "

This announcement _did_ interest every one--the Fifth particularly, whofelt their own humiliation now fourfold as they looked at Oliver, andthought of what their conduct to him had been. 

It interested Oliver and Wraysford as much as any one, but for adifferent reason. Supposing Loman had taken the paper--this was thereflection which darted through both their minds--supposing Loman _had_taken the paper and worked up the answers from it, might not the suddenchange of questions described by the Doctor account for the low place hehad taken in the exam?

Altogether the Doctor's speech left things (except as concerned Oliver)not much more satisfactory than before. The natural impulse ofeverybody was to suspect Loman. But, then, six months ago the naturalimpulse had been equally as strong to suspect Oliver, and--well, thathad somehow turned out a bad "spec, " and so might this. 

So Saint Dominic's really didn't know what to think, and settled down tothe work of the term in an uneasy frame of mind, wishing something wouldturn up, to end the wretched affair of the lost paper definitely one wayor another. 

Of course the report of the new state of affairs soon penetrated down tothe lower school, and the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles at any rate were notslow in making up _their_ minds on the burning question. 

They turned out in a body and hooted Loman up and down the passages withas much, if not more, glee than some of them had lately hooted Oliver. "Yah, boo! Who stole the exam paper?--there! old Loman. " Such were thecries which presently became familiar in the school, until one day MrRastle dropped down on some twenty of the "howlers, " and set them eachtwelve propositions of Euclid to learn by heart, and two hours a-piecein the detention-room, there to meditate over their evil ways. 

The quiet of the lower school during the next week was somethingdelicious. 

The tyrannical proceeding on the part of Mr Rastle provoked bitterindignation, of course, in the breasts of the culprits. Why weren'tthey to be allowed to express their feelings? And if Rastle did want to"pot" them, why should he give them Euclid to learn, when he knewperfectly well Euclid was the very thing not one of them _could_ learnby heart? And if he did want to detain them, why _ever_ should he fixon the identical week in which the grand "Vocal, Instrumental, andDramatic Entertainment" of the Fourth Junior was due to come off. 

It was an abominable piece of spite, that was a fact; and Mr Rastle wassolemnly condemned one evening in the dormitory to be blown up withdynamite at the first convenient opportunity. Meanwhile, come whatwould, the "Vocal, Instrumental, and Dramatic Entertainment" _should_come off, if it cost every man Jack of the "entertainers" his head. 

Stephen, who by this time was a person of authority in his class, wasappointed president of the "V. I. And D. Society. " The manner of hiselection to this honourable office had been peculiar, but emphatic. Hehad been proposed by Paul and seconded by himself in a short but elegantspeech, in which he asserted he would only serve if his appointment wasunanimous. It _was_ unanimous, for directly after this magnanimousstatement he and Paul and a few others proceeded summarily to ejectBramble, Padger, and others who showed signs of opposition; and then, locking the door, proceeded to an immediate vote, which, amid loudGuinea-pig cheers, was declared to be unanimous, one contumaciousTadpole, who had escaped notice, having his hands held down by his sidesduring the ceremony. As soon as the doors were open, Bramble, who hadmeanwhile collected a large muster of adherents, rushed in, and, turningout all the Guinea-pigs, had himself elected treasurer, and Padgerhonorary secretary. These exciting appointments having been made, themeeting was "thrown open, " a programme was drawn up, and thepreparations were in a very forward state when the sad interruptionoccasioned by Mr Rastle's brutal conduct took place. But if Mr Rastlethought he was going to extinguish the "Vocal, Instrumental, andDramatic Entertainment" he was woefully mistaken. 

As soon as ever, by superhuman exertions, Bramble and a few others ofthe "potted" ones had struggled through their Euclid, and served theirterm of detention, an evening was fixed upon for the great event to comeoff. 

Immediately a question arose. Should the public be admitted?

"Rather!" exclaimed Bramble, the treasurer, "five bob each. "

"Masters half price, " suggested Padger. 

"Greenfield senior free!" shouted the loyal Paul. 

"Bah! do you think Greenfield senior would come to hear you spout, youyoung muff!" roared the amiable Bramble. 

"I know what he would come for, " retorted Paul, "and I'd come with himtoo. Guess!"

"Shan't guess. Shall I, Padger?"

"May as well, " suggested Padger. 

"He'd come, " cried Paul, not waiting for the Tadpole to guess--"he'dcome a mile to see you hung. So would I--there!"

It was some time before the meeting got back to the subject of admittingthe public. But it was finally agreed that, though the public were notto be invited, the door should be left open, and any one ("presentinghis card, " young Bilbury suggested) might come in, with the exception ofLoman, Mr Rastle, Tom Braddy, and the school cat. 

For the next few days the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles were busy, learningtheir parts, practising their songs, arranging all the details of theirdramatic performance, and so on; and Mr Rastle had to "pot" one or twomore of them, and detain one or two others, before he could get anythinglike the ordinary work of the class done. All this the young vocal, instrumental, and dramatic enthusiasts bore patiently, devoting so manyextra ounces of dynamite to Mr Rastle's promised blow-up for eachoffence. 

At last the festival day arrived. Stephen, on whom, somehow, all thework had devolved, while the talking and discussion of knotty points hadfallen on his two brother officers, looked quite pale and anxious on theeventful morning. 

"Well, young 'un, " said Oliver, "I suppose Wray and I are to be allowedto come and see the fun to-night. "

"Yes, " said Stephen, with considerable misgivings about the "fun. "

"All serene; we'll be there, won't we, Wray? Not the first Guinea-pigkick-up we've been witness to, either. "

"Do you think Pembury will come?" asked Stephen, nervously. 

"Oh, rather. He'll have to report it in the next _Dominican_. I'll seehe comes. "

"Oh, I think he needn't mind, " said Stephen, with a queer shyness; "Icould write out a report for him. "

"Oh, I dare say; a nice report that would be. No, Tony must be there. He wouldn't miss it for a five-pound note. "

Stephen retired to report these rather alarming prospects of an audienceto his comrades. 

"Talking of five-pound notes, " said Wraysford, after he had gone, "doesLoman ever mean to pay up that 8 pounds?"

"I don't know; it doesn't look like it, " said Oliver. "The fact is, hecame to me yesterday to borrow another pound for something or another. He said Cripps had been up to the school and tried to make out thatthere was another owing, and had threatened, unless he got it, at onceto speak to the head master. "

"Did you lend it him?" said Wraysford. "It's a regular swindle. "

"I hadn't got it to lend. I told him I was sure the fellow was a thief, and advised him to tell the Doctor. "

"What did he say?"

"Oh, he got in an awful state, and said he would get into no end of arow, and wouldn't for the world have the Doctor know a word of it. "

"I don't like it at all, " said Wraysford. "Don't you have more to dothan you can help with that business, Noll, old man. "

"But the poor beggar seems regularly at his wits' end. "

"Never mind; you'll do him and yourself no good by lending him money. "

"Well, I haven't done so, for a very good reason, as I tell you. ButI'm sorry for him. I do believe he can't see that he's being fleeced. He made me promise not to utter a word of it to the Doctor, so I reallydon't know how to help him. "

"It's my impression he's good reason to be afraid of the Doctor justnow, " said Wraysford. "That Nightingale business has yet to be clearedup. "

The two friends pursued this disagreeable topic no farther, but agreed, for all Loman wasn't a nice boy, and for all they had neither of themmuch cause to love him, they would see the next day if they could not dosomething to help him in his difficulty. Meanwhile they gave themselvesover to the pure and refined enjoyment of the "Vocal, Instrumental, andDramatic Entertainment. "

At seven that evening, after tea, the Fourth Junior room became a centreof attraction to all Saint Dominic's. Fellows from the Sixth and Fifth, always ready for novelty in the way of amusement, looked in to see thesport. The Fourth Senior grandly condescended to witness the vulgarexploits of their juniors, and the other classes were most of themrepresented by one or more spectators. 

The programme had been carefully got up. Stephen took the chairsolemnly at the appointed hour, and with a great deal of stammeringannounced that the proceedings were now about to commence, and then satdown. An awful pause ensued. At first it was borne with interest, thenwith impatience; then, when Stephen began to whisper to Paul, and Paulbegan to signal to Bramble, and Bramble gesticulated in dumb show atPadger, and all four whispered together, and finally looked very gravelyin an opposite direction to the audience, then they began to be amused. 

"Oh, " said Stephen, very red, turning round abruptly after this awkwardpause had continued for a minute or two--"oh, that was wrong; he doesn'tbegin, and the other fellow's away. Look here, Bramble, do your thingnow. "

"No, I can't, " whispered Bramble in an audible voice. "I've forgottenthe first line. "

"Something about a kid asleep, " suggested Padger, also audibly. 

"Oh, yes, " said Bramble, starting up and blushing very red as he began. 

"`Lines on Seeing my Wife and Two Children Asleep'--Hood. "

This modest announcement of his subject was overwhelming in itself, andwas greeted with such yells of laughter that the poor elocutionist foundit utterly impossible to go on. He tried once or twice, but never gotbeyond the first half line. 

"And has the earth--" and here he stuck, but in answer to the cheersbegan again, looking round for Padger to help. 

"And has the earth--(Go it, Padger, give a fellow a leg up, can't you?)"

"I can't find the place, " said Padger, very hot and flurried, andwhipping over the pages of a book with his moist thumb. 

"And has the earth--(Look in the index, you lout! Oh, won't I give itto you afterwards!)" once more began the wretched Bramble. He got nofarther. Even had he remembered the words his voice could never haverisen above the laughter, which continued as long as he remained on hisfeet. 

He retired at length in dudgeon, and Stephen called on Paul for a song. This went off better, only everybody stamped the time with his feet, sothat the singer could neither be heard for the row nor seen for thedust. After that followed another "reading. " This time the subject wasa humorous one--"Ben Battle, " by T. Hood. Every one, by the way, choseHood. It was the only poetry-book to be had in the Fourth Junior. Thereading progressed satisfactorily for the first two lines--indeed, untila joke occurred, and here the reader was so overcome with the humour ofthe thing that he broke into a laugh, and every time he tried to beginthe next line he laughed before he could get it out, until at last itgot to be quite as monotonous as watching the hyena at the ZoologicalGardens. Finally he did get through the line, but in a voice so weak, wavering by reason of his efforts not to laugh, that the effect was moreludicrous than ever. He could get no farther, however. For therecollection of the joke that had passed, and the anticipation of theone that was coming, fairly doubled him up, and he let the book drop outof his hands in the middle of one of his convulsions. 

The next performance was an "instrumental" one, which bade fair to be agreat success. Four of the boys had learned to whistle "Home, SweetHome" in parts, and were now about to ravish the audience with thistime-honoured melody. They stood meekly side by side in a straight linefacing the audience, waiting for the leader to begin, and screwing theirmouths up into the proper shape. Just as the signal was given, and eachhad taken a long breath and was in the act of letting out, some lout inthe audience laughed! The result may be imagined. The first note, which was to have been so beautiful, sounded just like the letting offof steam from four leaky safety-valves, and no effort could recover themelody. The more they tried the more they laughed. The more theylaughed the more the audience roared. There they stood, with faces ofmingled agony and mirth, frantically trying to get the sound out; but itnever came, and they finally had to retire, leaving the audience toimagine what the effect of "Home, Sweet Home" might have been had theyonly got at it. 

However, as the "dramatic" performance came next, the audience werecomforted. The modest subject chosen was _Hamlet_. 

Stephen, who was combining the duties of master of the ceremonies withthose of president, rose and said to the company, "All turn round, anddon't look till I tell you. "

Of course every one pretended to turn round, and of course everybodylooked as hard as he could. And they saw Bramble hop up on a chair andlower the gas, to represent night. And they saw Paul and Padger stickup two or three forms on end, to represent a castle. And they saw twoother boys walk majestically on to the platform in ulsters and billycockhats, and their trousers turned up, and sticks in their hands torepresent soldiers. 

"Now you can turn round, " cried Stephen. 

They did turn round, just at the very moment when Bramble, attempting tolower the gas still further, turned it right out. The effect wasremarkable. No one and nothing was visible, but out of the blackdarkness came the following singular dialogue:--

"_Who's there_?"

"Have you got a lucifer about you, any of you?"

"_Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself_. "

"Don't be a fool (in agitated accents); you're shoving me off theplatform. "

"Why don't you light up?"

"_Long live the king_. "

"Ah, here's one. What's become of the chair?"

Next moment, amid great applause, the gas was re-lit, and the thrillingtragedy proceeded. 

It went on all right till the ghost enters, and here another calamityoccurred. Padger was acting ghost, dressed up in a long sheet, and withflour on his face. Being rather late in coming on, he did so at a veryunghostlike pace, and in the hurry tripped up on the bottom of hissheet, falling flop on the platform, which, being none of the cleanest, left an impression of dust on his face and garment, which greatly addedto the horror of his appearance. He recovered the perpendicular withthe help of two soldiers and a few friends, and was about to proceedwith his part, when the door suddenly opened and Mr Rastle appeared. 

He had evidently not come to see the show--indeed he hardly seemed awarethat a show was going on. His face was grave, and his voice agitated, as he said--

"Has any one here seen Loman?"

No one had seen him since breakfast that morning. 

"Is Greenfield senior here?"

"Yes, sir, " answered Oliver. 

"Will you come with me to the Doctor at once, please?"

Oliver was out in the passage in a moment, and hurrying with the masterto Dr Senior's study. 

"I'm afraid, " said Mr Rastle, as they went--"I'm afraid something hashappened to Loman!"

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. 

MISSING. 

Slowly Oliver followed Mr Rastle to the Doctor's study with strangeforebodings at heart. 

What the "something that must have happened to Loman" could be, he couldnot conjecture; but the recollection of his unhappy schoolfellow'stroubles and of his difficulties, and--worse still--of his dishonesty(for Oliver had no doubt in his mind that Loman had taken theexamination paper), all came to his mind now with terrifying force. 

Oliver had never been fond of Loman, as the reader knows, but somehowthere are times when one forgets whether one is fond of another personor not, and Oliver felt as if he would give anything now to be sure--

Here he was at the Doctor's study. 

Dr Senior was standing at the fireplace with a very grave look, holding a letter in his hand. 

"Greenfield, " said he, the moment the boy entered, "when did you seeLoman last?"

"Last night, sir, after preparation. "

"He was not in his class this morning?"

"No, sir--he sent down word he had a headache. "

"You saw him last night--where?"

"In my study. "

The Doctor paused uncomfortably, and Mr Rastle put in a question. 

"Are you and Loman great friends?"

"No, we are not friends. "

"Does he often come to your study?"

"No, sir. Very rarely. "

"May I ask, Greenfield, " said the Doctor, "why he was in your study lastnight?"

This was getting close quarters for Oliver, who, however, had made uphis mind he must, if put to it, say all he knew. 

"He came to--to ask me about something. "

"Yes, what?"

"He made me promise not to tell any one. "

"Greenfield, " said the Doctor, seriously, "Loman has disappeared fromSaint Dominic's. Why, I cannot say. If you know of anything which willaccount for this proceeding, you owe it to yourself, to me, and to yourschoolfellow, who may yet be recovered, to speak plainly now. "

The Doctor's voice, which had been stern when he began to speak, betrayed his emotion before the sentence was ended, and Oliversurrendered without further demur. 

"He came to borrow some money, " he replied. 

"Yes, " said the Doctor. 

Oliver had nothing for it but to narrate all he knew of Loman's recentmoney difficulties, of his connection with Cripps, and of his own andWraysford's share in helping him out of his straits. 

The Doctor heard all he had to say, putting in a question here andthere, whenever by the boy's manner there seemed to be anything kept inthe background which wanted some coaxing to bring out. 

"And he wanted to borrow more money yesterday, then?"

"Yes, sir. He said Cripps had found there was another sovereign owing, and had threatened to expose Loman before you and the whole schoolunless he got it at once. But I fancy that must only have been anexcuse. "

"Yes. And did you lend him the pound?"

"I hadn't got it to lend, " replied Oliver, "the last lot had completelycleared me out. "

"There is one other question I want to ask you, Greenfield, " said theDoctor, fidgeting with the paper in his hand. "How long do you supposethis has been going on?"

"I don't know, sir--but should think for some time. "

"What makes you think so?"

"Because, " replied Oliver--and there was no help for it--"because at thetime I spoke to you about the scrape my young brother got into at thelock, last autumn, Loman was very thick with Cripps. "

"Indeed? That was just before the Nightingale examination, was it not?"

"Yes, sir, " said Oliver, beginning to feel the ground very uncomfortableall round. Here he was telling tales right and left, and no help forit. Surely the Doctor was carrying it a little too far. 

"Do you suppose Loman was in debt at that time?"

"I have no idea, " replied the boy, wondering whatever that had to dowith Loman's disappearance now. 

"You wonder why I ask this question, " said the Doctor, apparentlyreading the boy's thoughts. "This letter will explain. I will read itto you, as you may be able to throw some light on it. I received itjust now. It is from Cripps. "

"Hon. Sir, --I take the liberty of informing you that one of your younggents, which his name is Mister Loman, is a prig. He's been a regulardown at my shop this twelve month, and never paid a farthing for hisliquor. More than that, he's been a-drawing money from me up tothirty-five pounds, which I've got his promissory note due lastMicklemas. He said he was a-going to get a Nightingale or somethingthen that would pay it all off, and I was flat enough to believe him. If that ain't enough, he's a-been and played me nicely over a rod I soldhim. I might have persecuted him over that job but I didn't. Hecracked it to rights, and then tries to pass it back on me for same aswhen he got it, and if I hadn't a-been a bit sharper nor some folk Ishould have been clean done. This is to tell you I ain't a-going tostand it no longer, and if I don't get my money there'll be a rumpus upat the school which won't be pleasant for none of you. So the shortestcut is to send on the money sharp to your humble servant, Ben Cripps. 

"P. S. --I've wrote and told the young swell I've put you on the job. "

"It is evident, " said Mr Rastle, "this letter has something to do withLoman's disappearance. "

"Yes, " said Oliver, "he was awfully frightened of you or his fathergetting to know about it all, sir. "

"Foolish boy!" said the Doctor, with a half groan. 

What little could be done at that late hour was done. Strict inquirieswere made on all hands as to when and where the missing boy was lastseen, and it was ascertained that he must have left Saint Dominic's thatmorning during early class time, when every one supposed him ill in bedwith a headache. 

But where had he gone, and with what object? A telegram was sent to hisfather, and the reply came back that the boy had not gone home, and thatMr Loman was on his way to Saint Dominic's. At the Maltby railwaystation no one had seen or heard anything of him. 

Meanwhile, Mr Rastle had gone down to the Cockchafer to see Cripps. The landlord was not at home, but, said the potboy, was most likely "upalong with the old 'un at the lock-'us. " From which Mr Rastle gatheredthere was a chance of seeing Mr Cripps junior at the residence of MrCripps senior, at Gusset Lock-house, and thither he accordingly went. Mr Cripps junior was there, sweetly smoking, and particularly amiable. 

In answer to Mr Rastle's inquiries, he made no secret of his beliefthat the boy had run away for fear of exposure. 

"You see, Mister, " said he, "I don't like a-getting young folk intotrouble, but when it comes to robbing a man downright, why, I considersit my dooty to give your governor the tip and let him know. "

Mr Rastle had no opinion to offer on this question of morals. What hewanted to know was whether Cripps had seen the boy that day, or had theslightest idea what had become of him. 

Mr Cripps laughed at the idea. 

"Not likely, " he said, "he'd tell me where he was a-goin' to, when he'dgot thirty-five-pound of mine in his pocket, the young thief. All I cansay is, he'd better not show up again in a hurry till that little bill'ssquared up. " And here Mr Cripps relapsed into quite a state ofrighteous indignation. 

"Wait till he do come back, I says, " he repeated. "I'll be on him, mister, no error. I'll let the folks know the kind of young gents youturn out up at your school, so I will. "

Mr Rastle took no notice of all this. He admitted to himself that thisman had some reason for being disagreeable, if Loman had reallyabsconded with such a debt as he represented. 

"Thirty-five pounds, " continued Cripps, becoming quite sentimental overhis wrongs, "and if you won't believe me, look at this. This here bitof paper's all I've got in return for my money--all I've got!"

And so saying he took from his pocket and exhibited to Mr Rastle thevery promissory note, signed by Loman, which he had pretended to tear upand burn the last time that unhappy boy was at the Cockchafer. 

Had Mr Rastle known as much as the reader knows he would not havewasted more time over Mr Cripps. He would have seen that, whatever hadhappened to the boy, Mr Cripps's purpose was to make money by it. Buthe did not know all, and looked at the bill with mingled astonishmentand sorrow as an important piece of evidence. 

"He really owed you this?" he asked. 

"He did so--every brass farthing, which I've waited ever sinceMichaelmas for it, mister. But I ain't a-going to wait no longer. Imust have my money slap down, I let you know, or somebody shall hear ofit. "

"But he has paid you something?" said Mr Rastle, remembering Oliver'saccount of the loan of eight pounds. 

"Has he?" exclaimed Cripps, satirically. "Oh, that's all right, only Iain't seen it, that's all. "

"Do you mean he hasn't paid you anything?" demanded Mr Rastle, becomingimpatient with his jocular manner. 

"Of course, as you says so, it ain't for me to say the contrairy; but ifyou hadn't told me, I should have said he ain't paid me one brassfarthing, so now. "

"Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed Mr Rastle. Of course, if that was so, Loman must have borrowed the eight pounds from Oliver on falsepretences, and kept it for his own use. 

"I tell you what, " broke in Mr Cripps, in the midst of this meditation, "I don't want to do nothing unpleasant to you, or the governor, oranybody. What I say is, you'd better see this little bill put squareamong you, and then the thing can be kept quiet, do you see? It wouldbe awkward for you to have a regular shindy about it, my man, but that'swhat it'll come to if I don't get my money. "

This declaration Mr Cripps delivered in a solemn voice which was hisnearest approach to earnestness. But he was mistaken in expecting MrRastle to be much affected or overawed by it. On the contrary, it gavethat gentleman a new insight into his acquaintance's character, whichdecided him that a prolongation of this interview would neither bepleasant nor profitable. 

So Mr Rastle abruptly turned and went, much to the regret of Cripps, who had not half spoken his mind yet. 

Returning to the school, the master reported all he had to say, whichwas not much. There an anxious night was spent by the masters and theone or two boys who were in their confidence in the matter. 

The half hope that Loman might return of his own accord before night wasquickly dispelled. Bed-time came, and no signs of him. Later hisfather arrived, anxious and excited, and was closeted for some time withthe Doctor. 

Meanwhile everything that could be done at that time of night was done. The Maltby newspapers were communicated with, and the police. Unpleasant as it was, the masters decided the right thing to do was tomake the matter known at once, and not damage the chance of the boy'sdiscovery by any attempt to keep his disappearance quiet. 

At dawn next day an organised search was begun, and inquiries werestarted in every direction. Mr Cripps, among others, once morereceived the honour of a visit, this time from Mr Loman himself, who, greatly to the astonishment of the worthy landlord, called for his son'spromissory note, which, being produced, he paid without a word. Crippswas fairly taken aback by this unexpected piece of business, and even atrifle disconcerted. It never suited him to be quite square withanybody, and now that Mr Loman had paid every farthing that could beclaimed against his son, he did not like the look of Mr Loman at all, and he liked it less before the interview ended. For Mr Loman (who, bythe way, was a barrister by profession) put his man that morning througha cross-examination which it wanted all his wits to get over creditably. As it was, he was once or twice driven completely into a corner, andhad to acknowledge, for the sake of telling one lie, that the lasttwenty statements he had made had been lies too. Still Mr Loman keptat him. Now he wanted to know exactly how often his son had visited theCockchafer? When he was there last? When the time before that? Whathe had done during his visits? Had he played cards? With whom? WithCripps? Had he lost? Had Cripps won? Had Cripps gone on letting himrun up a score and lose money, even though he got no payment? Why hadCripps done so? Where had he expected to get payment from in the end?

Altogether it was hot quarters for Cripps that morning, and once ortwice he struck completely, and putting himself on his dignity, declared"he wasn't a-going to be questioned and brow-beated as if he was acommon pickpocket!" which objection Mr Loman quietly silenced by saying"Very well, " and turning to go, a movement which so terrified the worthypublican that he caved in at once, and submitted to further questions. 

Mr Loman then followed up his advantage by finding out all he couldabout the companions whom his son had been in the habit of meeting onthe occasion of his visits to the Cockchafer. What were their names, occupations, addresses, and so on? Cripps, if any one had told himtwenty-four hours ago that he would be meekly divulging all thisinformation to any one in his own house, would have scoffed at the idea. But there was something about Mr Loman's voice, and Mr Loman's eye, and Mr Loman's note-book, which was too much for the publican, and hesubmitted like a lamb. 

In due time the ordeal was over, and Mr Loman said he would now go andcall upon these young gentlemen, and see what they had to say, and thatMr Cripps would most likely hear from him again. 

Altogether the landlord of the Cockchafer had hardly ever passed such anuncomfortable morning. 

Meanwhile the other searchers, among whom were Oliver and Wraysford, were busy. 

For a whole day there came no news of the missing boy. No one could bemet who had seen him or heard of him. Neither in Maltby nor up theriver, nor in the country roads round, could any tidings of him befound. Towards evening those who remained anxiously behind began toentertain fresh fears. Had the boy been merely running away, some onewould surely have seen him or heard of him. Had anything worse happenedto him?

Mr Loman and the police-inspector paid a hurried visit to theboathouse. Had the boy been there? No, no one had been there for twodays. They followed the paths through the woods, asking at everycottage and stopping every passer-by. But no, no one knew anything. Noboat had passed through the lock, no passenger on foot had gone past it. 

The night came, and with it most of the searchers returned, dejected andworn-out. 

The school was strangely silent. Not a sound could be heard in thepassages or class-rooms. Nothing but the heavy rain, which now began tofall dismally upon the roof and windows of the old school-house. 

Boys who heard it shuddered, and their minds went out into the dark wetnight after their lost schoolfellow, wherever he might be. 

Where was he now? they wondered, and how was he faring?

"Has Greenfield returned?" asked the Doctor, as about ten o'clock themasters and Mr Loman met for the mockery of supper in the head master'sstudy. 

"No, " said Mr Jellicott. "I have just been inquiring. He has notreturned. "

"Strange, " said the Doctor; "which direction did he take?"

"Up towards Grandham, " said Wraysford; "we went together as far as thecross roads, and then I went off on the Dallingford road and back by theriver. "

"He ought to be back now, " said the Doctor, looking concerned. 

"There is no railway or coach from Grandham, " suggested Mr Rastle; "hewould have to walk back most likely. "

"And in this rain!" said the Doctor. 

"Perhaps, " said Wraysford, "he may have heard something. "

It was a cheery suggestion. If it could but be true!

"He would have telegraphed, " said Mr Loman. 

"There is no telegraph office there, " said the Doctor; "the Grandhampeople have to come here or to Dallingford to telegraph. "

They waited an hour, but Oliver did not return. 

The night became more and more stormy. The bleak February wind whistledamong the chimneys, and the hard rain beat pitilessly at the windows andon the gravel walk outside. 

The Doctor rose and pulled up the blind and looked out. It was a drearyprospect. The rain had turned to sleet, and the wind was growing fastto a gale. The trees round the house creaked and groaned beneath it. 

"It is a dreadful night, " said the Doctor. "Those two poor boys!"

No one else said anything. The storm grew fiercer and fiercer. Boys intheir dormitories sit up in bed and listened to the roar of the wind asit howled round the house. And that silent party in the Doctor's studynever once thought of seeking rest. Midnight came; but no Oliver, noLoman--and the storm as furious as ever. 

Presently there came a soft knock at the door, which made every onestart suddenly as the door opened. 

It was Stephen in his night-shirt. He, like every one else, had beenawakened by the storm. Oliver was the monitor of his dormitory; and nowfor the first time the boy missed his elder brother. Where was Oliver?he asked. No one could say. He had been out all day, and no one hadseen him since he got back. 

This was enough for Stephen. With bounding heart and quivering lips hesprang from his bed and hurried down stairs. There was a light in theDoctor's study; and there he went. 

The boy's alarm and terror on hearing that his brother had not returnedwas piteous to see. He begged to be allowed to go and look for him, andonly the Doctor's authoritative command could put him from this purpose. But nothing would induce him to return to bed; so Wraysford fetched himan ulster to keep out the cold. 

The night wore on, by inches; and the storm raged outside with unabatedwildness. 

More than once the impulse had seized Wraysford to sally out at allrisks and look for his friend. But what _could_ one do in a night likethis, with a blinding sleet full in one's face, and a wind which mockedall attempts at progress or shouting!

No, there was nothing for it but to sit patiently and await daylight. 

One, two, three o'clock came, and still nothing but the storm. Stephencrouched closer up beside Wraysford, and the elder boy, as he put hisarm round the younger, could feel how his chest heaved, and how histeeth chattered. 

"You're cold, old boy, " said he, kindly. 

"No, I'm not, Wray, " said the boy, with a gulp; "but don't talk, Wray, I--"

The next instant Stephen, with a sudden cry, had bounded to his feet andrushed to the window. 

"Some one called!" he cried. 

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. 

FOUND!

The little company of watchers sprang to their feet with one accord andlistened, as Stephen wildly flung up the window. The storm burst intothe room as he did so, with all its vehemence, drenching those who stoodnear, and deafening every one with its roar. But no other sound couldbe heard. Stephen, heedless of the weather, stood motionless with hishead out of the window, listening. Alas! it must have been a false hopeafter all--a brother's fancy. 

"A mistake, I fear, " said Dr Senior. "Greenfield, I think you hadbetter close the window. It will be daylight in--"

He had not time to finish his sentence, for with a sudden exclamationand a shout of, "There it is again; come, Wray!" the boy had leapt fromthe low window, half clad as he was, into the garden. 

For Wraysford to follow him was the work of an instant Mr Rastle andRoach the porter did the same, while the others went hurriedly out intothe passage to the hall door. Close as they were to one another, Wraysford lost sight of Stephen for a moment in the blinding sleet whichdashed full in their faces. But he heard him shouting a few yards off, and was at his side the same moment. 

"No use shouting, " said he, "against the wind. "

"I _must_ shout!" exclaimed Stephen, calling out once more. 

"Where--what did you hear?" asked Wraysford. 

"Some one shouting. I'm positive of it!" said the boy, plungingforward. 

"Stand still, and listen again, " said Wraysford; "we may be going allwrong. "

It was all he could do to keep the younger boy still for a few seconds. What ages those seconds seemed!

A voice somewhere? No, only Mr Rastle and Roach coming up behind. 

"Well?" inquired the master, breathlessly. 

"Hush!" said Stephen, turning his head to the wind to listen. 

What a wind it was! Surely it would beat any voice to shreds!

"We may as well go on, " said the boy, impatiently. 

"Wait a second or two longer, " said Wraysford. 

Scarcely had he spoken when, joyous sound! there came on the wind fromsomewhere what sounded like a feeble shout!

In an instant all four bounded forward and were once more lost in thestorm. 

But they had hope, and every moment, a night like this, was precious. They groped down the garden walk, and towards the meadow, shouting asthey went. Then presently they halted again and listened. 

Yes there was the call again, and nearer. Thank Heaven! they were onthe right track. On they went once more. Another shout! Nearer still!

Oh, for a lull in the tempest, that they might give one shout back!

"Try, " said Mr Rastle, "they may hear it. Here, Roach, come andshout--one, two, three, and a--"

What a shout it was! The wind got hold of it as if it had been asparrow's twitter, and tossed it mockingly over their heads and far awaybehind them, who knows where? "It's no go, " said Wraysford. "Hullo, here's the meadow ditch. Hadn't we better follow it up and down?Stephen and I will take the left. "

Once more, as they turned, a shout!

"Oh, be quick!" cried Stephen. "Where does it come from? Come, Wray, quick!"

They might as well have tried to fly as run against that wind; but theycrawled rapidly forward. 

Suddenly, close at their side, rose the shout again. With a bound thetwo boys were over the ditch, and in another moment a fourfold shoutproclaimed that the wanderers were found!

Oliver and Loman were crouching under a tree, the former without coat orwaistcoat, which he had thrown round the shivering and now senselessform of his companion. 

It was no time for words, either of joy or explanation; time enough forthat when every one was safe indoors. Mr Rastle and Roach between themcarried Loman, while Oliver, in scarcely better plight, was helped alongby his brother and friend. 

"Is it far?" he asked, faintly. 

"No, old man; that light there is Saint Dominic's. "

"Is it? I didn't know that when I shouted; I thought we were milesaway. "

"Oh, no! Hold up, old boy; we're just there. "

And so this strange procession returned before the wind to SaintDominic's, and when, a few minutes later, watchers and rescuers andrescued all gathered in the Doctor's study, Oliver, as well as Loman, was insensible. 

It was some days before the true story of that terrible night could betold, and then Oliver only told it briefly. 

Late in the afternoon, as he was about to turn back, he said, he heardfrom a farmer's boy that he had seen a stranger that morning asleepunder a hedge about a mile off. Vague as this information was, itdecided Oliver at once to go forward, which he did. As might have beenexpected, there was no trace of the "stranger" at the hedge, and noamount of searching along it could discover any clue. Still, he did notlike to turn back while a chance remained. He went on towards Grandham, inquiring of everybody and looking everywhere. 

At last--it was getting dusk--he entered a field across which ran afootpath which led direct to Grandham Green. He was half way across, wondering if he could by any chance find a cart or vehicle of any kindto drive him back to Saint Dominic's, when at the other side of thefield he suddenly caught sight of a figure getting up from under thehedge and moving quickly away. He instantly and instinctively gavechase. The other, seeing he was discovered, began to run too. It wasLoman. Oliver called to him to stop, but he paid no heed. He continuedto run as long as he could, and then, like a hunted animal, turned atbay. 

Oliver told very few all that had passed when finally he did come upwith the wanderer. His first impression, judging from the unhappy boy'sstrange and excited manner, was that he had gone out of his mind. Heappeared reckless and desperate at first, and determined to resist allattempts to bring him back. He would sooner die than go back to SaintDominic's, he said. What right had Oliver to interfere with him and doghim in this way? He had a right to go where he chose, and no one shouldstop him. Oliver let him talk on, not attempting to reply, and avoidingall appearance of using force to detain him. 

This wise policy had its effect. In time the poor fellow, who wasreally suffering more from hunger and fatigue (he had not had a morselof food since the afternoon before) than from anything else, quieteddown, and gave up further resistance. Oliver told him, in as few wordsas he could, of the distress which his disappearance had caused at SaintDominic's and to his parents, and besought him to return quietly, promising forgiveness for the past, and undertaking that all would bemade right if he would only come home. 

Loman listened to all doggedly. "You're humbugging me!" he said. "Youknow I stole that paper?"

"Oh, don't talk of that!" cried Oliver. "Do come back!"

"You know--can't you get me something to eat?"

As he said this he sunk down with a groan upon the grass. Oliverstarted wildly to rush to the nearest cottage. As he did so, however, adoubt crossed his mind, and he said, "You'll promise to wait here, willyou?"

"Oh, yes! be quick. "

Oliver flew on the wings of the wind towards the village. There was acottage a few hundred yards away. As he neared it, he cast one lookback. The wretched boy was on his feet, hurrying away in an oppositedirection. 

Another chase ensued, though only a short one. For Loman was in nocondition to hold out long. Oliver half led, half dragged him toGrandham, where at last he procured food, which the unhappy fugitivedevoured ravenously. Then followed another talk, far more satisfactorythan the last. Restored once more in body and mind, Loman consentedwithout further demur to accompany Oliver back to Saint Dominic's, butnot before he had unburdened his mind of all that was on it. 

Oliver implored him not to do it now, to wait till he got back, and thento tell all to his father, not to him. But the poor penitent was not tobe put off. Until he had confessed all he would not stir a foot back tothe school. 

Then Oliver heard all that sad story with which the reader is nowfamiliar. How that first act of fraud about the rod had been thebeginning of all this misery. How Cripps had used his advantage todrive the boy from one wickedness and folly to another--from deceit togambling, from gambling to debt, from debt to more deceit, and so on. How drinking, low company, and vicious habits had followed. How all thewhile he was trying to keep up appearances at the school, though he sawthat he was gradually becoming an object of dislike to his fellows. Howhe had staked everything--his whole hope of getting free from Cripps--onthe result of the Nightingale examination; and how, when the criticalmoment came, he yielded to the tempter and stole the paper. 

"And you can fancy how punished I was when, after all, the Doctor missedthe paper and altered the questions, Greenfield. I was so taken abackthat I didn't even answer as well as I could. And then I lost the paperI had stolen--couldn't find it anywhere, and for weeks I was in constantterror lest it should turn up. Then I saw the fellows were allsuspecting you to be the thief, and you know how meanly I took advantageof that to hide my own guilt. Oh, Greenfield, what a wretch, what amiserable wretch I have been!"

"Poor fellow!" said Oliver, with true sympathy. "But, I say, do let'sbe going back, it's getting late, and looks as if it might rain. "

"I _must_ tell you the rest, Greenfield, please. You're the only fellowI can tell it to. Somehow I think if I'd had a friend like you all thelast year I shouldn't have gone wrong as I have. How I used to envy youand Wraysford, always together, and telling one another your troubles!Well, of course, after the Nightingale exam, things were worse thanever. I'd given Cripps a bill, you know, a promise to pay in September. I don't know anything about bills, but he made me sign it. Of course Icouldn't pay when it came due, and had to make all sorts of excuses andtell all sorts of lies to get him to give me more time; as if I was morelikely to pay later on than then! But, somehow, if I could only get thething off my mind for the present, I felt that was all I cared about. He gave in at last, and I was able to pay it off bit by bit. But I wasin constant terror all that term of his coming up to Saint Dominic's. You know he did come once, at the football match against Landfield, andI thought I was done for. "

Here Loman paused a moment, and Oliver, seeing that he was determined totell his story to the end, waited patiently till he continued. 

"Then there was that Waterston exam. I fancied I might get that if Iworked. Ass that I was to think, after all my wasted time and sin, Ihad any chance against you or Wraysford! I tried to work, but soon gaveit up, and went on going down to the Cockchafer instead, to keep Crippsin good humour, till I was quite a regular there. You know what afearful hash I made of the exam. I could answer nothing. That very dayCripps had sent up to threaten to tell the Doctor everything unless Ipaid what I still owed. I had paid off all the bill but eight pounds. I had got some of it from home, and some of it by gambling; I'd paid offall but eight pounds. You know, Greenfield, who lent me that. "

"I'm thankful we were able to do it, " said Oliver. 

"If you'd known how I hated you and despised myself over that eightpounds you would hardly have been glad. Everything was hateful. I tookthe money down to Cripps and paid it him. He pretended at first that hewouldn't take it; and then when he did, and I asked him to give me backmy promissory note, he laughed at me. I nearly went mad, Greenfield, atthe thought of not being clear after all. At length he did make believeto give in, and produced what I thought was the bill, and tore it up inmy presence. I couldn't see it, but he read it out aloud, and I had nodoubt it was actually the thing. I was so grateful I actually felthappy. But then came the discovery of that miserable exam paper. Imust have left it in my Juvenal last September, and forgotten all aboutit. I was certain the Doctor knew quite well I was the thief, but Idenied it and tried feebly to put it on you. Then everybody cut me; butI hoped still all might blow over in time. But every day it becameharder to bear; I should have had to confess at last, I believe. Thencame Cripps's final villainy. He had never destroyed my bill after all, but now calmly claimed the whole amount. "

"The scoundrel!" exclaimed Oliver, indignantly. 

"I had no receipts to show what I had paid, and of course was at hismercy. This last move really drove me half crazy. I daren't tell anyone about it. I was too desperate to think of anything but running awayand hiding somewhere. I had no money. I came to you with a lie to tryto borrow a pound, so that I might go somewhere by train. You couldn'tdo it, and so I had to walk, and--and--oh! Greenfield, what shall I do?what will become of me?"

"My dear fellow, " said Oliver, laying his hand on the unhappy boy's arm, "we'll go back together, and I can promise you you'll find nothing butkindness and forgiveness when you get back. If I wasn't sure of that, Iwouldn't urge you to come. There! I wish you could have seen your poorfather's face last night. "

Loman held out no longer; and, indeed, it was high time to think ofmoving, for the afternoon was closing in and rain was already beginningto fall. 

Loman was in no condition for walking, nor, indeed, was Oliver, who hadbeen on his feet since early morning. A farmer's cart was with somedifficulty found, which happened to be going a good part of thedistance, and in this the two boys late that afternoon ensconcedthemselves. They talked little at first, and presently not at all. Each had his own thoughts, and they were serious enough to occupy themfor a much longer journey. 

Night fell presently, soon after they had started, and with it the rainand wind came heavily. There was little enough protection for these twoworn-out ones in an empty open cart, but what they could get from an oldwrap and some boards they secured. 

As the storm grew worse this poor shelter became quite useless, and thetwo boys suffered all the horrors of a bitter exposure. 

Loman, who had got a cough already, was the first to show distress, andhe soon became so cold and numbed that Oliver grew alarmed. They wouldbe better walking than sitting still in that jolting cart a night likethis. 

So, much against their own inclination and the advice of the carman, whocharacterised the proceedings as "tomfoolery, " they alighted, andattempted to take the short cut across the fields to Saint Dominic's. 

Short cut, indeed! It was indeed a sarcastic name for the road thosetwo boys took that terrible night. Oliver could never recollect allthat happened those few hours. He was conscious of the tremendousstorm, of the hopeless losing of their way, and of Loman's relapse intoa state of half-unconsciousness, in the midst of which he constantlybegged to be allowed to lie down and sleep. 

To prevent this was Oliver's principal occupation during that fearfultime. More than once he was forced into a hand-to-hand struggle to keephis companion from his purpose. To let him lie down and sleep on such anight would be, he knew, to leave him to certain death. At any cost hemust be kept moving. At last the storm fairly vanquished them. EvenOliver began to grow half-hearted in his determination. He took off hisown coat and waistcoat and pat them on his comrade, who by this time wasstupid with cold and exhaustion. A few minutes longer and both mighthave given themselves up, when suddenly there flickered a light beforethem. All Oliver could do was to shout. He had no power left to dragLoman farther, and leave him he would not. He shouted, and the readerknows who heard that shout, and what the answer was. 

Such was Oliver's story, and it needed little amplification. If it had, the only boy who could have added to it was in no position to do so. For four weeks after that night Loman lay ill with rheumatic fever, soill that more than once those who watched him despaired of his recovery. But he did recover, and left Saint Dominic's a convalescent, and, better still, truly penitent, looking away from self and his own poorefforts to Him, the World's Great Burden Bearer, whose blood "cleansethus from all sin. "

His schoolfellows saw him no more; did not know, indeed, when he leftthem. Only one of them shook hands with him at the door of the oldschool as he went. That boy was Oliver Greenfield. 

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT. 

GOOD-BYE TO SAINT DOMINIC'S. 

And now, reader, we are at the end of our story, and there only remainthe usual "last words" before we say good-bye. 

Saint Dominic's flourishes still, and only last season beat the Countyby five wickets! The captain on that occasion was a fellow calledStephen Greenfield, who carried his bat for forty-eight in the firstinnings. He is a big fellow, is the captain, and has got a moustache. Though he is the oldest boy at Saint Dominic's, every one talks of himas "Greenfield junior. " He is vastly popular, and fellows say therenever was such a good Sixth at the school since the days of his brother, Greenfield senior, five years ago. The captain is an object of specialawe among the youngsters of the Fourth Junior, who positively quake intheir shoes whenever his manly form appears in the upper corridor. 

These youngsters, by the way, are still the liveliest section of SaintDominic's. The names Guinea-pig and Tadpole have died out, and leftbehind them only the Buttercups and Daisies, who, however, are as fiercerivals and as inky scamps as even their predecessors were. There is alout of a fellow in the Fourth Senior called Bramble, who is extremely"down" on these juveniles, always snubbing them, and, along with oneBadger, a friend of his, plotting to get them into trouble. But somehowthey are not much afraid of Bramble, whereat Bramble is particularlyfurious, and summons Padger to a "meeting" about once a week in hisstudy, there to take counsel against these irreverent Buttercups andDaisies. 

About the only other fellow the reader will recollect is Paul, now inthe Sixth, a steady-going sort of fellow, who, by the way, has just wonthe Nightingale Scholarship, greatly to the delight of his particularfriend the captain. 

Last year the Fifth tried to revive an old institution of their Form, inthe shape of a newspaper entitled the _Dominican_, directed chieflyagainst the members of the Sixth. But somehow the undertaking did notcome off. The _Dominican_ was a very mild affair for one thing, andthere was nothing amusing about it for another thing, and there was agood deal offensive about it for another thing; and for another thing, the captain ordered it to be taken down off the wall on the first day ofits appearance, and announced that if he had any more of this nonsensehe would thrash one or two whose names he mentioned, and knock one ortwo others out of the first eleven. 

The _Dominican_ has not appeared since. 

The big cricket match against the County I spoke of just now was afamous event for more reasons than one. The chief reason, of course, was the glorious victory of the old school; but another reason, almostas notable, was the strange muster of old boys who turned up to witnessthe exploits of the "youngsters. "

There was Tom Braddy, for instance, smoking a big cigar the size of apencil-case, looking the picture of a snob. And with him avacant-looking young man with a great crop of whiskers on his puffycheeks. His name was Simon. The great idea of these two worthiesseemed to be to do the grand before their posterity. They wereconvinced in their own minds that in this they were completelysuccessful, but no one else saw it. 

Boys took a good deal more interest in a lame gentleman present, who wascracking jokes with everybody, and hobbling about from one old crony toanother in a manner that was perfectly frisky. Every one seemed to likeMr Pembury, and not a _few_ to be afraid of him. Perhaps that wasbecause he was the editor of a well-known paper of the day, and everyone likes to be on good terms with an editor. 

Then there were a batch of fellows whose names we need hardly enumerate, who had run over from Oxford, or Cambridge, or London for the day, andwho got into clusters between the innings and talked and laughed a greatdeal over old times, when "Bully did this, " and "Rick did that, " and soon. A nice lot of fellows they looked on the whole, and one or two, sopeople said, were doing well. 

But among these _the_ lions of the day were two friends who strolledabout arm-in-arm, and appeared far more at home in Saint Dominic's eventhan the boys themselves. One of them was the big brother of thecaptain--a terrible fellow by all accounts. He rowed in the boat of his'Varsity the last year he was at Cambridge, and since then he has beencalled to the bar, and no one knows what else! People say OliverGreenfield is a rising man; if so, we may hear of him again. At anyrate in the eyes of the admiring youngsters of Saint Dominic's he was agreat man already. 

So was his friend Wraysford, a fellow of his college, and a "coach" forindustrious undergraduates. He does not look like a tutor, certainly, to judge by his jovial face and the capers he persisted in cutting withsome of his old comrades of years ago. But he is one, and SaintDominic's Junior eyed him askance shyly, and thought him rather morelearned and formidable a person than the old Doctor himself. 

No one enjoyed themselves on that day more than these two, who prowledabout and visited every nook and cranny of the old place--studies, passages, class-rooms, Fourth Junior and all. 

The match is over, the jubilations of victory have subsided, and one byone the visitors depart. Among the last to leave are Oliver andWraysford; they have stayed to dine with the Doctor, and when at lastthey do turn their backs on the old school it is getting late. 

Stephen accompanies them down to the station. On the way they pass thewell-known Cockchafer. The old board is still there, but a new name isupon it. 

"Hullo! what's become of Cripps?" asked Wraysford. 

"Oh! he's gone, " said Stephen. "Didn't you know?"

"No! When was that?"

"The very time you and Noll went up to Cambridge. The magistrates tookaway his licence for allowing gambling to go on at his house. He stuckon at the lock-house for some time, and then disappeared suddenly. Theysaid he was wanted for some bit of swindling or other. Anyhow, he'sgone. "

"And a very good riddance too, " says Oliver. 

"So it is, " replies Stephen. "By the way, Noll, what's the last news ofLoman?"

"Oh, I meant to tell you. He's coming home; I had a letter from him aweek or two ago. He says the four or five years' farming and knockingabout in Australia have pulled him together quite; you know how ill hewas when he went out?"

"So he was, " says Wraysford. 

"He's coming home to be near his father and mother. He's been readinglaw, he says, out in the backwoods, and means to go into his father'soffice. "

"I'm glad he's coming home, " says Wraysford. "Poor fellow! I wonderwhen he'll come to this old place again. "

A silence follows, and Oliver says, "When he does, I tell you what: wemust all make up a jolly party and come down together and help himthrough with it. "

"Well, old man!" said Stephen, taking his brother's arm, "if it hadn'tbeen for you, he--"

"Hullo, I say! there's the train coming!" breaks out Oliver. "Lookalive, you fellows, or we shall be late!"

THE END.