im back."

"There are times, Rupert," conceded Penny graciously, "when you show
distinct promise. I have great hopes of you, my boy."

"Oh, shut up!" I said, mentally overthrown to find that, without
forewarning of any kind, something had filled my throat like a sob
of temper. What was the matter with me? I unlinked my arm and walked
beside Penny in moody silence, determining that at an early
opportunity I would bring about a quarrel between us which should
not be easily repaired. He, however, was disposed to continue being
humorous, and frequently cracked little jokes aloud to himself.
"Here's the butcher's shop," he explained, pointing to an array of
carcasses; "hats off! We're in the presence of death." And, when he
had purchased his sausages, he stepped gaily out of the place,
saying: "Come along, Rupert, my boy. Home to tea! Trip along at
Nursie's side." Just as I, thoroughly sulky, was wondering how best
to break with him, and deciding to let him walk on alone a hundred
yards, before I resumed my homeward journey, I heard his voice
saying:

"Talking about Doe, there he is. And the naughty lad has been
strictly forbidden to enter the town. Dear, dear!"

It was an acute moment. There, far ahead of us, was Doe in the
company of Freedham, with whom he was turning into a doorway. A pang
of jealousy stabbed me, and with a throb, that was as pleasing as
painful, I realised that I loved Doe as Orestes loved Pylades.

The truth is this: ever since our form had been engaged on Cicero's
"De Amicitia," I had wanted to believe that my friendship for Doe
was on the classical models. And now came the gift of faith. It was
born of my sharp jealousy, my present weariness of Pennybet, and my
heroic resolution to rescue Doe from the degenerate hands of
Freedham. Only go nobly to someone's assistance, and you will love
him for ever. Love! It was an unusual word for a shy boy to admit
into his thoughts, but I was even taking a defiant and malicious
pleasure in using it. I was Orestes, and I loved Pylades.

In the glow of this romantic discovery, I no longer thought Penny
worth any anger or resentment, so I slipped my arm back into his. He
patted my hand with just such an action as an indulgent father would
use in welcoming a sulky child who has returned for forgiveness.
After this we climbed the slope of the Beaten Track at a faster
pace. And then--what an afternoon of strange moods and tense moments
this was!--I encountered o