now famous Wildtree library.

His surprise at meeting Jeffreys was very considerable; and at first it
seemed to the quondam pupil that his old master was shy of him. This,
however, was explained as soon as they were alone, and had to do with
the seven pounds, which had burned holes in Mr Frampton's pockets ever
since he received them, but which, not knowing Jeffreys' address, he had
never been able to return.

"I was never more pained than when I received this money," said he.
"Your guardian was written to by the clerk in ordinary course, but I
never imagined the bill would be passed on to you."

Jeffreys had nothing for it but to take the money back, much as he
disliked it. Until he did so, Mr Frampton was too fidgety to be
approachable on any other subject.

The morning after his arrival, they went up Wild Pike together--the
first time Jeffreys had been on the mountain since the death of Julius.
They had a fine day and no difficulty; but the long talk which beguiled
the way amply made up to Jeffreys for the lack of adventure.

Mr Frampton told him much about Bolsover, and of how it was at last
beginning to thrive and recover from the dry-rot; how this winter the
football team had got up a name for itself; how the school discussion
society was crowded with members; how the cricket prospects were
decidedly hopeful; and how two fellows had lately gained scholarships at
Oxford. Then he began to ask Jeffreys about himself, and got from him a
full account of all that had befallen him since he left school. Mr
Frampton was a most sympathetic listener, and the poor "dog with a bad
name," who had almost forgotten the art of speaking his mind fully to
any one, warmed insensibly to this friend as they talked, and reproached
himself for the pride and shortsightedness which had induced him to shut
himself out so long from his friendship.

Then they talked of young Forrester. Mr Frampton made no attempt to
gloss over the wickedness of that unhappy act of passion. But he showed
how fully he made allowances for the poor blundering offender, and how
he, at least, saw more to pity than to upbraid in it all.

He knew nothing of young Forrester's fate. He had seen in the papers
the notice of Captain Forrester's death, from whom, months before, he
had had a letter of inquiry as to his son's whereabouts, and to whom he
had written telling all he knew, which was but little.

Then Jeffreys unfolded his present uncomfortable di