octor and Margaret after all. Mind you write to the
captain, Harry!"

Hector was quite inspirited and ready to return to the others, but Harry
paused to express a hope that he did not let Tom make such a fool of
himself as he had done to-day.

"Not he," said Hector. "He is liked as much as any one in the house--he
has been five times sent up for good. See there in the Eton list! He is
a real clever fellow."

"Ay, but what's the good of all that, if you let him be a puppy?"

"Oh, he'll be cured. A fellow that has been a sloven always is a puppy
for a bit," said Hector philosophically.

Norman was meantime taking Tom to task for these same airs, and, hearing
it was from the desire to see his brother respectable--Stoneborough men
never cared for what they looked like, and he must have Harry do himself
credit.

"You need not fear," said Norman. "He did not require Eton to make him a
gentleman. How now? Why, Tom, old man, you are not taking that to heart?
That's all over long ago."

For that black spot in his life had never passed out of the lad's
memory, and it might be from the lurking want of self-respect that there
was about him so much of self-assertion, in attention to trifles. He
was very reserved, and no one except Norman had ever found the way to
anything like confidence, and Norman had vexed him by the proposal he
had made in the holidays.

He made no answer, but stood looking at Norman with an odd undecided
gaze.

"Well, what now, old fellow?" said Norman, half fearing "that" might not
be absolutely over. "One would think you were not glad to see Harry."

"I suppose he has made you all the more set upon that mad notion of
yours," said Tom.

"So far as making me feel that that part of the world has a strong claim
on us," replied Norman.

"I'm sure you don't look as if you found your pleasure in it," cried
Tom.

"Pleasure is not what I seek," said Norman.

"What is the matter with you?" said Tom. "You said I did not seem
rejoiced--you look worse, I am sure." Tom put his arm on Norman's
shoulder, and looked solicitously at him--demonstrations of affection
very rare with him.

"I wonder which would really make you happiest, to have your own way,
and go to these black villains--"

"Remember, that but for others who have done so, Harry--"

"Pshaw," said Tom, rubbing some invisible dust from his coat sleeve. "If
it would keep you at home, I would say I never would hear of doctoring."

"I thought