at shall I do all that time alone in our study? Why, Arthur, it will
be more than twelve weeks before I see you again. Oh, hang it, I can't
stand that! Besides, who's to keep me up to working at the
examination-books? I shall come out bottom of the form, as sure as
eggs is eggs."

MORE LESSONS.

Tom was rattling on, half in joke, half in earnest, for he wanted to
get Arthur out of his serious vein, thinking it would do him harm; but
Arthur broke in:--

"Oh, please, Tom, stop, or you'll drive all I had to say out of my
head. And I'm already horribly afraid I'm going to make you angry."

"Don't gammon,[11] young un," rejoined Tom (the use of the old name,
dear to him from old recollections, made Arthur start and smile, and
feel quite happy); "you know you aren't afraid, and you've never made
me angry since the first month we chummed together. Now I'm going to
be quite sober for a quarter of an hour, which is more than I am once
in a year; so make the most of it; heave ahead, and pitch into me
right and left."

[11] #Gammon#: pretend.

"Dear Tom, I'm not going to pitch into you," said Arthur, piteously;
"and it seems so cocky in me to be advising you, who've been my
back-bone ever since I've been at Rugby, and have made the school a
paradise to me. Ah, I see I shall never do it, unless I go
head-over-heels at once, as you said when you taught me to swim. Tom,
I want you to give up using Vulgus-books and cribs."[12]

[12] #Cribs#: translations, "ponies."

Arthur sank back on to his pillow with a sigh, as if the effort had
been great; but the worst was now over, and he looked straight at Tom,
who was evidently taken aback. He leant his elbows on his knees, and
stuck his hands into his hair, whistled a verse of "Billie Taylor,"
and then was quite silent for another minute. Not a shade crossed his
face, but he was clearly puzzled. At last he looked up, and caught
Arthur's anxious look, took his hand, and said simply:--

"Why, young un?"

"Because you're the honestest boy in Rugby, and that isn't honest."

"I don't see that."

"What were you sent to Rugby for?"

"Well, I don't know exactly--nobody ever told me. I suppose because
all boys are sent to a public-school in England."

"But what do you think yourself? What do you want to do here and to
carry away?"

Tom thought a minute. "I want to be A 1 at cricket and foot-ball, and
all the other games, and to make my hands keep my head against any
fel