eart at football or
cricket, and was sure to make friends with any boy who was unpopular, or
down on his luck.

Now though East was not what is generally called unpopular, Tom felt
more and more every day, as their characters developed, that he stood
alone, and did not make friends among their contemporaries, and
therefore sought him out. Tom was himself much more popular, for his
power of detecting humbug was much less acute, and his instincts were
much more sociable. He was at this period of his life, too, largely
given to taking people for what they gave themselves out to be; but his
singleness of heart, fearlessness and honesty were just what East
appreciated, and thus the two had been drawn into greater intimacy.

This intimacy had not been interrupted by Tom's guardianship of Arthur.

East had often, as has been said, joined them in reading the Bible; but
their discussions had almost always turned upon the characters of the
men and women of whom they read, and not become personal to themselves.
In fact, the two had shrunk from personal religious discussion, not
knowing how it might end; and fearful of risking a friendship very dear
to both, and which they felt somehow, without quite knowing why, would
never be the same, but either tenfold stronger or sapped at its
foundation, after such a communing together.

What a bother all this explaining is! I wish we could get on without it.
But we can't. However, you'll all find, if you haven't found it out
already, that a time comes in every human friendship, when you must go
down into the depths of yourself, and lay bare what is there to your
friend, and wait in fear for his answer. A few moments may do it; and it
may be (most likely will be, as you are English boys) that you never do
it but once. But done it must be, if the friendship is to be worth the
name. You must find what is there, at the very root and bottom of one
another's hearts; and if you are at once there, nothing on earth can, or
at least ought to sunder you.

East had remained lying down until Tom finished speaking, as if fearing
to interrupt him; he now sat up at the table, and leant his head on one
hand, taking up a pencil with the other, and working little holes with
it in the table-cover. After a bit he looked, up, stopped the pencil,
and said, "Thank you very much, old fellow; there's no other boy in the
house would have done it for me but you or Arthur. I can see well
enough," he went on after a