ou've done very well so far, and if you want the fellows to forget all
about it you'd better not remind them of it so much."

"But, Doubleday," I implored once more, "out of friendship for me--"

"Out of friendship for you let me offer you a cigar," said Doubleday.
"Now you fellows, what's it to be--whist, nap, poker, or what?"

I turned in despair to Hawkesbury.

"Please, Hawkesbury," I said, "promise to say nothing about it at the
office. I would be so grateful if you would."

"Then," said Hawkesbury, asking the same question as Doubleday had just
asked, "it is true?"

I dared not say "Yes," and to say "No" would, I knew, be useless.

"Oh, please don't ask me," I said, only "promise--do, Hawkesbury."

Hawkesbury smiled most sweetly.

"Really," he said, "one would think it was such a nice subject that a
fellow would like to talk about it!"

"Then you won't!" I cried, ready to jump at the least encouragement;
"oh, thanks, Hawkesbury!"

This was the only comfort I could get. Crow laughed at me when I
appealed to him; and the other fellows reminded me that as they had not
the pleasure of knowing my pet gaol-bird they were afraid they couldn't
tell him what I had done, much as they would like.

Flanagan alone treated it seriously.

"Batchelor," said he, "I never believed you were such a fool. Can't you
see you're only making things worse by your fuss? Why can't you hold
your tongue? Smith has little enough to thank you for as it is."

He had indeed! As I walked home that evening, I felt as if I would
never dare to look him in the face again.

It was late when I reached Beadle Square. Jack had returned before me,
and was fast asleep in bed. A candle burned beside him, and on the
counterpane, as if dropped from his hand, lay a book--a Roman History.

I groaned as I looked at him, and envied him his quiet sleep, the reward
of honest work and a good conscience. I crept into bed that night as
silently as I could, for fear of waking him.

The next few days I was on thorns. I dreaded to be alone with Jack, and
still more dreaded to be by when the fellows were--now an ordinary
pastime--chaffing him at the office. It was like living on a volcano
which might at any moment explode. However, the days went on, and my
fears did not come to pass. The fellows had either forgotten all about
it, or, more likely, their sense of honour prevented them from making it
known. I was devoutly thankful, of course, a