pains,
Dick felt "gravelled."

All his nice little plan of campaign fell through. It was no use
routing the Den, and putting Pledge and the "Sociables" to shame, when
Georgie wouldn't be made a good job of. And so Dick, with some dismay
and considerable loss to his self-conceit, had to order a retreat and
consider whether the war was worth going on with under the
circumstances.

He therefore did not meet Heathcote half-way, and curled himself up into
bed, sorely perplexed, sorely crest-fallen, and sorely out of love with
the world at large.

No news spreads so fast as the news of a quarrel, and before school was
well launched next morning the noise of a "row" between Dick and
Heathcote ran through Templeton from end to end.

The Den heard it, and hoped there would be a fight. The "Select
Sociables" heard it, and voted it a good job. The Fourth and Fifth
heard it, and said, "Young idiots!" The Sixth heard it, and shook their
heads.

Pledge, however, regarded the matter with complacency.

"So it's a row, is it?" said he, as his _protege_ wandered
disconsolately into his study after morning school. "Pistols for two,
coffee for four, and all that sort of thing, eh?"

"He cuts me dead," said Heathcote.

"And you break your heart? Of course you do. I knew you couldn't get
on without him."

"I don't break my heart at all!" said Heathcote, savagely.

"No; you look as if you were going to hang yourself! How glad he'll be
to see dear Georgie sorrowing for his sins! If you'll take my advice,
you'll go out next time you see him and lie down at his feet and ask him
kindly to tread upon you."

"I'm not going to bother about him!" said Heathcote, miserably. "If he
wants to make up, he'll have to come and ask me himself."

"And, of course, you'll fall on his neck, and weep, and say, 'Oh! yes, I
loved you always.' Very pretty! Seriously, youngster--don't make a
donkey of yourself! As long as it pays him to cut you, he will cut you,
and when it pays him better to be friends, he'll want to be friends.
Don't make yourself too cheap. You're better than a dirty halfpenny, to
be played pitch and toss with."

These words sank deep in the boy's disturbed mind, and drove away any
lingering desire for an immediate reconciliation.

Day after day the two old chums met and cut one another dead, and the
spectacle of the "split" became a part of every-day life at Templeton.

At the end of a week fellows almost forgo