No, dear old boy, not I. But ain't you faint, Arthur, or ill? What can I get for you? Don't say any thing to hurt yourself now, you are very weak; let me come up again."

"No, no, I shan't hurt myself; I'd sooner speak to you now, if you don't mind. I've asked Mary to tell the Doctor that you are with me, so you needn't go down to calling-over; and I mayn't have another chance, for I shall most likely have to go home for change of air to get well, and mayn't come back this half."

"Oh, do you think you must go away before the end of the half? I'm so sorry. It's more than five weeks yet to the holidays, and all the fifth-form examination and half the cricket-matches to come yet. And what shall I do all that time alone in our study? Why, Arthur, it will be more than twelve weeks before I see you again. Oh, hang it, I can't stand that. Besides, who's to keep me up to working at the examination books? I shall come out bottom of the form, as sure as eggs is eggs."

Tom was rattling on, half in joke, half in earnest, for he wanted to get Arthur out of his serious vein, thinking it would do him harm; but Arthur broke in

"Oh please Tom, stop, or you'll drive all I had to say out of my head. And I'm already horribly afraid I'm going to make you angry."

"Don't gammon, young 'un," rejoined Tom, (the use of the old name, dear to him from old recollections, made Arthur start and smile, and feel quite

happy ;) "you know you ain't afraid, and you've never made me angry since the first month we chummed together. Now I'm going to be quite sober for a quarter of an hour, which is more than I am once in a year, so make the most of it; heave ahead, and pitch into me right and left."

"Dear Tom, I ain't going to pitch into you,” said Arthur piteously; "and it seems so cocky in me to be advising you, who've been my backbone ever since I've been at Rugby, and have made the school a paradise to me. Ah, I see I shall never do it, unless I go head-over-heels at once, as you said. when you taught me to swim. Tom, I want you to give up using vulgus books and cribs."

Arthur sank back on to his pillow with a sigh, as if the effort had been great; but the worst was now over, and he looked straight at Tom, who was evidently taken aback. He leant his elbows on his knees and stuck his hands into his hair, whistled a verse of Billy Taylor, and then was quite silent for another minute. Not a shade crossed his face, but he was clearly puzzled. At last he looked up and caught Arthur's anxious look, took his hand, and said simply―

"Why, young 'un?"

"Because you're the honestest boy in Rugby, and that ain't honest."

"I don't see that."

"What were you sent to Rugby for?"

66

Well, I don't know exactly-nobody ever told

338

TOM'S CONFESSIONS.

me. I suppose because all boys are sent to a public school in England."

"But what do you think yourself? What do you want to do here and to carry away?"

Tom thought a minute. "I want to be A 1 at cricket and football, and all the other games, and to make my hands keep my head against any fellow, lout or gentleman. I want to get into the sixth before I leave, and to please the Doctor; and I want to carry away just as much Latin and Greek as will take me through Oxford respectably. There now, young'un, I never thought of it before, but that's pretty much about my figure. Ain't it all on the square? What have you got to say to

that?"

66

Why, that you're pretty sure to do all that you want then."

"Well, I hope so. But you've forgot one thing, what I want to leave behind me. I want to leave behind me," said Tom, speaking slow and looking much moved, "the name of a fellow who never bullied a little boy, or turned his back on a big one."

Arthur pressed his hand, and after a moment's silence went on: "You say, Tom, you want to please the Doctor. Now do you want to please him by what he thinks you do, or by what you really do?"

"By what I really do, of course."

"Does he think you use cribs and vulgus-books?"

TOM PROPOSETH A COMPROMISE.

339

Tom felt at once that his flank was turned, but "He was at Winchester him

he couldn't give in.

self," said he, "he knows all about it.”

"Yes, but does he think you use them? Do you think he approves of it?"

"You young villain," said Tom, shaking his fist at Arthur half vexed and half pleased, "I never think about it. Hang it-there, perhaps he don't. Well, I suppose he don't."

Arthur saw that he had got his point; he knew his friend well, and was wise in silence as in speech. He only said, "I would sooner have the Doctor's good opinion of me as I really am, than any man's in the world."

After another minute Tom began again: "Look here, young 'un, how on earth am I to get time to play the matches this half, if I give up cribs ? We're in the middle of that long crabbed chorus in the Agamemnon, I can only just make head or tail of it with the crib. Then there's Pericles' speech coming on in Thucydides, and 'the Birds' to get up for the examination, besides the Tacitus." Tom groaned at the thought of his accumulated labours. "I say young 'un, there's only five weeks or so left to holidays, mayn't I go on as usual for this half? I'll tell the Doctor about it some day, or you may."

Arthur looked out of window; the twilight had come on and all was silent. He repeated in a low voice, “In this thing the Lord pardon thy servant, that when my master goeth into the house of Rimmon to worship there, and he leaneth on my hand,

340

TOM OUT-GENERALLED.

and I bow down myself in the house of Rimmon; when I bow down myself in the house of Rimmon, the Lord pardon thy servant in this thing."

Not a word more was said on the subject, and the boys were again silent. One of those blessed short silences, in which the resolves which colour a life are so often taken.

Tom was the first to break it. "You've been very ill indeed, haven't you, Geordie?" said he, with a mixture of awe and curiosity, feeling as if his friend had been in some strange place or scene, of which he could form no idea, and full of the memory of his own thoughts during the last week.

"Yes, very. I'm sure the Doctor thought I was going to die. He gave me the Sacrament last Sunday, and you can't think what he is when one is ill. He said such brave, and tender, and gentle things to me, I felt quite light and strong after it, and never had any more fear. My mother brought our old medical man, who attended me when I was a poor sickly child; he said my constitution was quite changed, and that I'm fit for any thing now. If it hadn't, I couldn't have stood three days of this illness. That's all thanks to you, and the games you've made me fond of."

"More thanks to old Martin," said Tom; "he's been your real friend."

"Nonsense, Tom, he never could have done for me what you have."

"Well, I don't know, I did little enough. Did they tell you-you won't mind hearing it now, I