y `I did wrong,' rising in his fall?"
Browning.

The story of Brogten's practical joke, and the circumstances which made
it so unusually disgraceful, spread with lightning-like rapidity through
Saint Werner's College; and when he swaggered into hall with his usual
self-confident air, he was surprised to find himself met with cold and
even with frowning looks. Snatches of conversation which went on around
him soon showed him the reason of the general disapprobation; and when
he learnt how violently the current of popular opinion was beginning to
set against him, and how unfavourable a view was taken of his conduct,
he began seriously to regret that he had given the reins to his malice.

"I shouldn't wonder now if Home were to lose the Clerkland; he was
_sure_ of it before this morning," said one.

"What a cursed shame!" echoed another. "I never in my life heard a more
blackguard trick. That fellow Brogten has lost the Hartonians the
scholarship; lucky if he hasn't lost it to Saint Werner's too. Perhaps
that Benedict man will get it."

"I say, Kennedy," said a third, "if I were you or Lillyston, or any
other of Home's particular friends, I'd duck Brogten."

"Let's wait till we see whether Home _does_ lose the scholarship first,"
said Lillyston. "_If_ he does, Brogten deserves anything; but I have
strong hopes yet."

"I know Home," said Kennedy, "and he would never forgive such an
interference, or I declare I should be inclined to do it."

"I should like to see you do it," thundered Brogten, from a farther end
of the table.

"I have just given my reasons for not seeing fit to do it," said
Kennedy, with a curl of the lip. "By the bye, Mr Brogten," he
continued sarcastically, "I hope that you don't, after this, expect to
be paid any of the _bets_ you have made against Home's getting the
Clerkland?"

"There's my betting-book," replied Brogten, flinging it at Kennedy, whom
it struck in the face, and who took no further notice of the insult than
to pick up the book, and throw it into the great brazier, full of
glowing charcoal, which stands in the centre of Saint Werner's hall.

"Don't do that, confound you!" cried Brogten, springing up. "Do you
think there are no bets in it but those about the Clerkland?"

"Keep your missiles to yourself, then," said Kennedy, while Brogten
burnt his fingers in the vain attempt to rescue his book.

"I hope you've at least hedged, or behaved as judiciously in the case of