I used to the masters. They seem to me to treat one quite
differently."

"Yes, perhaps they do," said East; "there's a new set you see, mostly,
who don't feel sure of themselves yet. They don't want to fight till
they know the ground."

"I don't think it's only that," said Tom. "And then the Doctor, he does
treat one so openly, and like a gentleman, and as if one was working
with him."

"Well, so he does," said East; "he's a splendid fellow, and when I get
into the sixth I shall act accordingly. Only you know he has nothing to
do with our lessons now, except examining us. I say, though," looking at
his watch, "it's just the quarter. Come along."

As they walked out they got a message, to say that Arthur was just
starting, and would like to say goodbye. So they went down to the
private entrance of the School-house, and found an open carriage,
with Arthur propped up with pillows in it, looking already better, Tom
thought.

They jumped up on to the steps to shake hands with him, and Tom mumbled
thanks for the presents he had found in his study, and looked round
anxiously for Arthur's mother.

East, who had fallen back into his usual humour, looked quaintly at
Arthur, and said,--

"So you've been at it again, through that hot-headed convert of yours
there. He's been making our lives a burden to us all the morning about
using cribs. I shall get floored to a certainty at second lesson, if I'm
called up."

Arthur blushed and looked down. Tom struck in,--

"Oh, it's all right. He's converted already; he always comes through the
mud after us, grumbling and sputtering."

The clock struck, and they had to go off to school, wishing Arthur a
pleasant holiday, Tom, lingering behind a moment to send his thanks and
love to Arthur's mother.

Tom renewed the discussion after second lesson, and succeeded so far as
to get East to promise to give the new plan a fair trial.

Encouraged by his success, in the evening, when they were sitting alone
in the large study, where East lived now almost, "vice Arthur on leave,"
after examining the new fishing-rod, which both pronounced to be the
genuine article ("play enough to throw a midge tied on a single
hair against the wind, and strength enough to hold a grampus"), they
naturally began talking about Arthur. Tom, who was still bubbling over
with last night's scene and all the thoughts of the last week, and
wanting to clinch and fix the whole in his own mind, which he could
never