word of advice from Lawrence.

"There are going to be changes here," said he; "and I wish I could see
'em, and help to bring 'em about. Now, I'm not given to buttering
fellows up, but I see plainly that the rebuilding of this house depends
a lot upon you two. It's not likely that you're able to measure your
influence; if you could, there wouldn't be much to measure. But take
it from me, not a word, not an action of yours is without weight with
the lower boys. Everything helps or hinders. Next term there will be
war--to the knife--between Warde and some fellows I needn't name, and
Warde will win. Remember I said so. I hope you," he looked hard at
Desmond, "will fight on the right side."

The boys returned to their room, jubilant because the house-cap was
theirs, but uneasy because of the words given with it. As soon as they
were alone, Scaife said sullenly--

"Does Lawrence expect us to stand in with Warde against Lovell and his
pals? If he does, he's jolly well mistaken, as far as I'm concerned."

Desmond flushed. He had spent nearly five terms at Harrow, but only
two at the Manor. Of what had been done or left undone by certain
fellows in the Fifth he was still in twilight ignorance. He discerned
shadows, nothing more, and, boylike, he ran from shadows into the
sunlight. Desmond knew that there were beasts at the Manor. Had you
forced from him an expression approaching, let us say, definiteness, he
would have admitted that beasts lurked in every house, in every school
in the kingdom. You must keep out of their way (and ways)--that was
all. And he knew also that too many beasts wreck a house, as they
wreck a regiment or a nation.

But once or twice within the past few months he had suspected that his
cut-and-dried views on good and evil were not shared by Scaife. Scaife
confessed to Desmond that the Old Adam was strong in him. He liked,
craved for, the excitement of breaking the law. Hitherto, this
breaking of the law had been confined to such offences as smoking or
drinking a glass of beer at a "pub," [1] or using cribs, or, generally
speaking, setting at naught authority. That Scaife had escaped severe
punishment was due to his keen wits.

Now, when Scaife gave Desmond the unexpurgated history of the row which
so nearly resulted in the expulsion of six boys, Desmond had asked a
question--

"Do you _like_ whisky? I loathe it."

Scaife laughed before he answered. Doubtless one reason why