chaff and slang, interspersed with stories of the
holidays, and second-hand Christmas jokes!

And how jolly to hear the organ again in the chapel, and the prayers,
with friends all round you; and finally, when the day was over, tuck up
again in the little cubicle, and hear your chum's voice across the
partition droning more and more sleepily, till finally you and it
dropped off together!

One of the last to arrive during the day was Tempest, who had run from
the station, and came in flushed with exercise, but grave and tight
about the lips. The ovation he received from the Philosophers scarcely
drew a smile from him, and when he reached his own study he slammed the
door ominously and cheerlessly behind him. We none of us liked it.

"What's it to be?" said Coxhead. "Is he to be cock of the house this
term, or has he chucked it up?"

That was the question which was agitating us all. Till the form orders
were posted to-morrow no one could tell. Crofter, we knew, had been
doing all he knew to get ahead, and considering the slack way in which
Tempest had let things go all last term, it seemed very much as if he
might succeed.

If he did, our duty would be a difficult one. Crofter had a claim on us
for having saved Tempest from being expelled, and we could hardly refuse
to own him should he come out cock of the house. On the other hand.
Tempest was the man of our heart, and our tender imagination failed to
picture him in any secondary position in Sharpe's,--secondary to
Crofter, above all other things.

The day closed with one curious incident.

Langrish came to me after supper in a state of wrathful perturbation.

"Look here, young Sarah," said he, "are you Tempest's fag or not?
That's all about it."

"I don't know," said I; "I was, but he told me--"

"He told you he didn't want a cad like you hanging about his place. All
very well--that doesn't follow I'm his fag as well as Crofter's. Here,
catch hold; you've got to take this to Crofter. _I'm_ not going to take
it--it means a licking most likely, and I don't see why I'm to be let in
for it."

He handed me an envelope, evidently containing coin, addressed
"Crofter," in Tempest's well-known writing.

I did not relish the commission, for I had my guess as to the contents
of the missive. Curiosity, however, prompted me to take it and proceed
to Crofter's study.

"Well, youngster," said Crofter, "turned up again? Have you seen
Tempest yet?"

"Yes-