to
keep this resolution than I ever remember to have done before. But on
Friday it came over me just as I was going to thrash Loman. That's why
I didn't."

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

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

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

"Steady, old man!" said Wraysford, good-humouredly; "I quite agree with
you. But I say, Noll, I think it's a pity you don't put yourself right
with them and the school generally, somehow. Everybody heard Loman call
you a fool yesterday, and you know our fellows are so clannish that they
think, 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 to
please _them_!"

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

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

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

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

"No, the youngster won't get any good with that fellow; you had better
tell 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 fellows
cares a rush about the _Dominican_ since you made yourself into the
latest 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 a
fool, and a Tadpole, any mortal thing you like, only shut up about the
affair now!"

Pembury looked concerned.

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

"Feel away,