No, sir." Davenport thanked heaven that he had a headache. He had
helped in the work of deceit every night the whole term. The Chief
thought he must be a boy of strong moral courage; and in many ways he
was, but cribbing, after all, was part of the daily routine.

The Chief took up the book.

"Sydenham, go back to your study."

He turned down the light and went out. His footsteps died out down the
passage.

"Damn!" said Gordon.

"_In excelsis gloria_," said Davenport.

"And it was a rotten crib, too," said Gordon.

By next morning the story was all round the school.

"You will be birched for certain," was Tester's cheerful comment, "and
serve you right for getting caught."

"I sha'n't be such a fool again," growled Caruthers.

And certainly he profited by his experience. A year later the House
Tutor came into his study when he was preparing Vergil with the aid of
Dr Giles' text. He put a piece of blotting-paper over the crib, and
chatted for a few minutes quite easily about the chances of the Eleven
_v._ Tonford.

But when we are in trouble, there are few of us who can see so far ahead
as to feel thankful at the thought that we have learnt something that
will be a help to us in the future. Gordon was thoroughly fed up. But it
was not his game to show his feelings. He went about laughing as though
nothing had happened at all; he treated the whole thing as a colossal
joke. Sydenham was, however, very nervous, and showed it. Gordon ragged
him mercilessly.

"My good man, what the hell does it matter? Chief's not much of a
bircher, and don't gas about disgrace, and such muck. This isn't a St
Winifred's sort of school. It will only mean a bad report."

In School that day Gordon was in great form. By the end of the morning
he had accumulated in all three hundred lines from various sources for
ragging.

"That man, Caruthers, is some fellow," said Ferguson to Simonds at
lunch. "He looks as if he enjoyed being in rows."

"Perhaps he does," was the answer. "He is certainly always doing his
best to get into them. But he is in for a birching this time."

But Simonds was wrong. The Chief was too utterly fed up to do anything;
moreover, he saw that a birching would do Gordon no good. He would only
boast about it.

It was not until a week later that Gordon was called up before the
Chief.

"Caruthers, I want to know where you got hold of that crib."

As a matter of fact he had obtained it by means of Rudd, who h