acid, and yet good-naturedly too.

"I suppose I clean you out?"

"You do. I've got a shilling to look at when you've taken up that heap."

"Is that your last word?"

"It is, but there's no need to quarrel--we're as we were before I began
to take your hire, Jim."

"Not quite," said Cotton, who was hit by Gus's decision. "I'll leave you
to your odd shilling and your forsaken tips."

He stumped off to his own room, and called Todd pet names till bedtime.
What made Cotton so angry was that, deep down in his own mind, he knew
that Gus was about to do a sensible and a manly thing, and just because
he himself was going to suffer by it he had not moral courage enough to
speak out openly his better mind.

But Gus, smiling at Cotton's bad temper, took out his books, drew up a
scheme for study, bolted his door, and commenced to work. He slacked off
when the bell went half an hour before lights out, and spent the time
left him in boring a hole in his solitary shilling. He then slipped it on
his watch-guard, prepared boldly to face a term of ten weeks without a
stiver.

CHAPTER XII

RAFFLES OF ROTHERHITHE

Twice a week, on half-holidays, Acton and Bourne ran over to the farm, to
find the Coon waiting for them in the stable, smoking an enormous cigar
as usual, and reading sporting papers on the corn-chest. Young Hill, the
farmer's son, generally put in an appearance when the boxing was about
over, and to Jack's utter disgust, plainly showed that he would rather
that Jack was anywhere else than with Acton when the gloves had been laid
aside. He seemed to have some business with Acton concerning which he
evidently did not want Jack to hear a single syllable.

Jack did not quite see at first that he was one too many after the boxing
was over, and that Hill, at any rate, did not mean there should be a
fourth to the deliberations of himself, Acton, and the Coon. Jack,
however, soon tumbled that he was _de trop_, and the minute young
Hill came in Jack would stalk solemnly and formally out of the stable and
kick up his heels in the farmyard until such time as Acton should be
ready for the run to school.

Jack certainly did not like this cavalier treatment, but found it rather
a bore pottering about the yard, "looking at the beastly ducks;" but
Acton was so profusely apologetic when he did come out that Jack
generally smoothed his ruffled plumes and pedalled home at peace with
himself and all the world.

"The fact i