The clerk darted away, and Tom started leading once more; but the steps
passed, and so did the long, dreary afternoon, with Tom struggling hard
to master something before six o'clock came; and before the clock had
done striking Pringle was ready to shut up and go.

"You'll take the keys, sir," he said. "Guv'nor won't come back now.
I've got well on with that deed, if he asks you when he comes home.
Good-evening, sir."

"Good-evening, Pringle," said Tom; and ten minutes later he was on his
way to his uncle's house in Mornington Crescent, where he found dinner
waiting for him, and though it was only cold, it was made pleasant by
the handmaid's smile.

Tom began a long evening all alone over another law-book, and at last,
with his head aching, and a dull, weary sense of depression, he went up
to the bedroom which he shared with his cousin, jumped into his own bed
as soon as he could to rest his aching head, and lay listening to a
street band playing airs that sounded depressing and sorrowful in the
extreme, and kept him awake till he felt as if he could never drop off,
and cease hearing the rumble of omnibuses and carts.

Then all at once Mr Tidd came and sat upon his head, and made it ache
ten times worse, or so it seemed--Mr Tidd being the author of one of
the books his uncle had placed in his hands to read.

He tried to force him off, but he would not stir, only glared down at
him laughing loud, and then mockingly, till the torture seemed too much
to be borne; and in an agony of misery and despair he tried to escape
from the pressure, and to assure his torturer that he would strive hard
to master the book. But not a word could he utter, only lie there
panting, till the eyes that glared looked close down into his, and a
voice said--

"Now then, wake up, stupid. Don't be snoring like that."

CHAPTER THREE.

Tom Blount started up in bed confused and staring. He was only half
awake, and it was some time before he could realise that it was his
cousin, who had come back from his trip boisterous and elated, and who
had been playing him some trick as he lay there asleep.

"Well, what are you staring at, old torpid?" cried Sam, as he now began
to divest himself slowly of his coat and vest.

"I--that is--have been asleep," stammered Tom.

"Asleep? Yes, and snoring loud enough to bring the plaster off the
ceiling. Why, you must have been gorging yourself like a
boa-constrictor, and been sleeping it off. Com