he exclaimed. "I did owe him one; I'll pay him when
we get back!"

"Hold hard, young gentleman," said Cripps, coolly. "To be sure, he
ain'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, and
maybe you'll honour a poor chap like me by having a look in at the
Cockchafer."

Loman did not know how to say "No," much as he disliked and feared his
host. He returned with him to Maltby, and there spent an hour in the
Cockchafer. 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 the
boy well in hand, and when at last he rose to go it was with a promise
to return again before the holidays were over--"to prevent Cripps having
the trouble of calling on him," as that virtuous gentleman significantly
put it.

Loman kept his promise, and visited Maltby once or twice, becoming each
time more familiar with Cripps and his low friends, who made a great
deal of him, and flattered him on all possible occasions, so that the
boy presently found himself, as he imagined, quite a young hero at the
Cockchafer.

Meanwhile, naturally, his reading fell behindhand. His parents, only
too glad to see their boy taking more regular exercise, never suspected
or inquired as to the direction of his frequent solitary rides. To them
he seemed the same quiet, clever boy they fondly believed him. Little
guessed they of the troubles that filled his breast or the toils that
were 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 boy
found himself once more within the walls of Saint Dominic's.

Oliver and Stephen, meanwhile, had been spending a very different sort
of holiday at home. There was high feast and revelry when the two boys
returned once more to the maternal roof. Stephen for once in a way had
the satisfaction of finding himself a most unmistakable hero. He never
tired telling of his adventures and discoursing on the whole manner of
his life since the day he left home for Saint Dominic's. To his sister
he recounted in all the slang phraseology he had at his command, the
famous cricket matches in which he had borne a part; and she, t