s were given half-yearly to
each remove; one for "marks," indicating the boy who had generally been
highest throughout the half-year, and the other for the best proofs of
proficiency in a special examination. It was commonly thought in the
form that Owen would get the first of these prizes, and Eric the other;
and towards the approach of the examination, he threw his whole energy
into the desire to win. The desire was not selfish. Some ambition was
of course natural; but he longed for the prize chiefly for the delight
which he knew his success would cause at Fairholm, and still more to his
own family.

During the last week an untoward circumstance happened, which, while it
increased his popularity, diminished a good deal (as he thought) his
chance of success. The fourth-form were learning a Homer lesson, and
Barker, totally unable to do it by his own resources, was trying to
borrow a crib. Eric, much to their mutual disgust, still sat next to
him in school, and would have helped him if he had chosen to ask; but he
never did choose, nor did Eric care to volunteer. The consequence was,
that unless he could borrow a crib, he was invariably turned, and he was
now particularly anxious to get one, because the time was nearly up.

There was a certain idle, good-natured boy, named Llewellyn, who had
"cribs" to every book they did, and who, with a pernicious _bonhommie_,
lent them promiscuously to the rest, all of whom were only too glad to
avail themselves of the help, except the few at the top of the form, who
found it a slovenly way of learning the lesson, which was sure to get
them into worse difficulties than an honest attempt to master the
meaning for themselves. Llewellyn sat at the farther end of the form in
front, so Barker scribbled in the fly-leaf of his book, "Please send us
your Homer crib," and got the book passed on to Llewellyn, who
immediately shoved his crib in Barker's direction. The only danger of
the transaction being noticed was when the book was being handed from
one bench to another, and as Eric unluckily had an end seat, he had got
into trouble more than once.

On this occasion, just as Graham, the last boy on the form in front,
handed Eric the crib, Mr Gordon happened to look up, and Eric, very
naturally anxious to screen another from trouble, popped the book under
his own Homer.

"Williams, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, sir," said Eric, looking up innocently.

"Bring me that book under