_you_ don't believe it?" he repeated, disregarding the
impatience of the other; "_you_ aren't a blackguard, like the rest?"

"Do you hear what I tell you?" said Wraysford.

"No, and I don't mean to!" retorted the irate Stephen. "If you were
anything of a friend you'd stand up for Oliver. You're a beast,
Wraysford, that's what you are!" continued he, in a passion. "You're a
blackguard! you're a liar! I could kill you!"

And the poor boy, wild with rage and misery, actually flung himself
blindly upon his brother's old friend--the saviour of his own life.

Wraysford was not angry. There was more of pity in his face than anger
as he took the small boy by the arm and led him to the door. Stephen no
longer resisted. After giving vent to the first flood of his anger,
misery got the upper hand of him, and he longed to go anywhere to hide
it. He could have endured to know that Oliver was suspected by a good
many of the fellows, but to find Wraysford among them was a cruel blow.

But in due time his indignation again came to the fore, and he ventured
on another crusade. This time it was to Pembury. He knew before he
went he had little enough to expect from the sharp-tongued editor of the
_Dominican_, so he went hoping little.

To his surprise, however, Pembury was kinder than usual. He told him
plainly that he did suspect Oliver, and explained why, and advised
Stephen, if he were wise, to say as little about Oliver as possible at
present. The young champion was quite cowed by this unexpected
reception. He did his best to fly in a rage and be defiant, but it was
no use, and he retired woefully discomfited from the interview.

Others to whom he applied, when once again his anger got the better of
his wretchedness, met him with taunts, others with contempt, others with
positive unkindness; and after a week Stephen gave it up and retired in
dudgeon to the territory of the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles, determined
that there at least he would, at the edge of the knuckle, if needs be,
compel a faction to declare for his brother.

In this undertaking, I need hardly say, he was eminently successful.
There were those among the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles who were ready to
declare for anybody or anything as long as there was a chance of a row
on the head of it. Already the question of Greenfield senior had been
occupying their magnificent minds. When the story first fell suddenly
into their midst, it was so surprising that,