gapes about before
the 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 the
period, and be content to be told only about two groups of
holiday-makers, about whom, as they are destined to figure pretty
conspicuously in next term's doings at Saint Dominic's, it will be
interesting 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 had
seemed particularly sorry to say good-bye to him at Saint Dominic's, and
a good many had been unmistakably glad. And he had quite enough on his
mind, apart from this, to make his home-coming far less joyous than it
might have been. It ought to have been the happiest event possible, for
he was coming home to parents who loved him, friends who were glad to
see him, and a home where every comfort and pleasure was within his
reach. Few boys, indeed, were more blessed than Loman with all the
advantages of a Christian and happy home; and few boys could have failed
to return to such a home after a long absence without delight. But to
Loman, these holidays, the surroundings of home afforded very little
pleasure. 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 that
all would come right--that he would certainly win the scholarship, and
so wipe off the debt; but his confidence became less and less
comfortable as time went on.

He dared not tell his troubles to his father, for he feared his
upbraiding; and he would not confess them to his mother, for she, he
knew, would tell all to his father. He still clung to the hope that all
would come right in the end; and then what would have been gained by
telling 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 what
they could to cheer him, but without much success.

"Come, Edward, put away your books to-day," his mother would say; "I
want 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 wo