East, who had fallen back into his usual humour looked quaintly at
Arthur, and said--

"So you've been at it again, through that hot-headed convert of yours
there. He's been making our lives a burthen to us all the morning about
using cribs. I shall get floored to a certainty at second lesson, if I'm
called up."

Arthur blushed and looked down. Tom struck in--

"Oh, it's all right. He's converted already; he always comes through the
mud after us, grumbling and sputtering."

The clock struck, and they had to go off to school, wishing Arthur a
pleasant holiday; Tom lingering behind a moment to send his thanks and
love to Arthur's mother.

Tom renewed the discussion after second lesson, and succeeded so far as
to get East to promise to give the new plan a fair trial.

Encouraged by his success, in the evening, when they were sitting alone
in the large study, where East lived now almost, "vice Arthur on leave,"
after examining the new fishing-rod, which both pronounced to be the
genuine article, ("play enough to throw a midge tied on a single hair
against the wind, and strength enough to hold a grampus,") they
naturally began talking about Arthur. Tom, who was still bubbling over
with last night's scene, and all the thoughts of the last week, and
wanting to clinch and fix the whole in his own mind, which he could
never do without first going through the process of belabouring somebody
else with it all, suddenly rushed into the subject of Arthur's illness,
and what he had said about death.

East had given him the desired opening: after a serio-comic grumble,
"that life wasn't worth having now they were tied to a young beggar who
was always 'raising his standard;' and that he, East, was like a
prophet's donkey, who was obliged to struggle on after the donkey-man
who went after the prophet; that he had none of the pleasure of starting
the new crotchets, and didn't half understand them, but had to take the
kicks and carry the luggage as if he had all the fun"--he threw his legs
up on to the sofa, and put his hands behind his head, and said--

"Well, after all, he's the most wonderful little fellow I ever came
across. There ain't such a meek, humble boy in the School. Hanged if I
don't think now really, Tom, that he believes himself a much worse
fellow than you or I, and that he don't think he has more influence in
the house than Dot Bowles, who came last quarter, and ain't ten yet. But
he turns you and me round his l