water gradually leaked into my
boots, my heart rose out of them, and got back somehow to its proper
place, and enabled me to look at things in their proper light. I think
Dicky, little as he knew it, was sent by God to help me pull myself
together, and I shall always think better of him for his blunt, genuine
encouragement that day.

On our way back he pulled up at Redwood's door.

"Let's see if he's in," said he; "he won't mind."

"All right," said I, beginning to quail again a little, and yet
determined to go through with the whole business.

Redwood was in, mending a pair of skates, in anticipation of a day or
two's frost before the holidays were over.

"Look here, Redwood," said Dicky, determined to make things easy for me.
"Old Jones minimus is in the blues. He's been fooling it rather this
term, you know, but he's a bit sick of it, and we thought you'd like to
know, didn't we, young Jones minimus?"

"Yes, if you don't mind, Redwood," said I.

"Wait a bit--tea's just ready. We'll have ours up here," said the
captain.

Over tea Dicky trotted out my troubles second-hand to our host,
appealing to me every now and then to confirm his statement that I'd
rather "mucked" it over this and that, and so on.

Redwood nibbled away at his tea, looking up now and then with a friendly
nod to show he agreed with all that was said about me.

When all was said, he remarked--

"I wouldn't worry, youngster, if I were you. It's been a poor show last
term, but you'll pull yourself together right enough. Take my advice,
and lie low a bit, that's the best thing for your complaint."

"Why," said I, "that's just exactly what Tempest said to me."

"There you are again," broke in Dicky, cutting himself a hunch of cake.

Presently Redwood began to "draw" me on the subject of Tempest, and
looked rather blank when I told him of the dismal circumstances in which
the term had closed at Sharpe's. However, he did not favour Dicky and
me with much comment on the matter, and finally got us to help him
sharpen his skates and talk about other things.

I went to bed that night at Dicky's more easy and hopeful than I had
been for weeks, and felt half-impatient for term to begin again, so that
I might put into practice the new and trebly-patent specific of lying
low.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

PUTTING ON THE BRAKE.

The holidays went by rapidly enough. I tore myself away from Dicky's
consoling companionship three days from the