en just lately, and
is tremendously proud of it. He's vowed he'll get old Wyndham to come
down and umpire in the match with Templeton second-eleven next month."

All this talk was anything but pleasant for poor Riddell. Little did
the speakers dream of the connection between the boat-race and young
Wyndham; in fact, the latter topic, as he knew quite well, had been
started on purpose to get over the awkwardness which his own confusion
about the former had caused.

But to Riddell, with that knife burning in his pocket, it was all one
prolonged torture, so that he was heartily glad when at length his
friends rose to depart.

He excused himself from walking across the quadrangle with them, and
said good-night in a spiritless way, very different from the cheery
manner in which he had welcomed them an hour ago.

"I never saw such a rum fellow as Riddell," said Coates, as the three
strolled over. "Did you see how cut up he got when something was said
about the boat-race?"

"He's a little cracked on that subject," said Fairbairn. "I do believe,
until the culprit is found out, he considers himself responsible for the
whole affair."

"Well, to judge by his looks he might have been the culprit himself,"
said Porter, laughing. "Hullo, here's young Wyndham."

"Where are you off to?" asked Fairbairn, with due monitorial solemnity,
of that flighty youth; "don't you know it's nearly eight?"

"Oh, do you mind my going across to Riddell's?" asked the boy; "he'll
think I've cut him if I don't show up. I've not been to his room for
half a week."

"It's a curious thing he has survived it so long," said Fairbairn,
laughing. "Mind you are back by 8:30, though, for I'll have lock-up
punctual to-night, while there's so much row going on."

"Thanks, Fairbairn," said Wyndham. "I say, what a stunning score our
house knocked up in the second innings. Why, we--"

"Cut off," cried Fairbairn, "and tell Riddell all about it. Come on,
you fellows."

Wyndham hurried on full of the prospect of a talk over the match with
Riddell.

Just at the door of Welch's, however, he met Silk.

The two had scarcely met since the day of the election, when Wyndham, to
spite Riddell, had joined himself to this bad friend, and yielded to his
persuasion to go down, against leave, to Shellport.

"Oh, young 'un," said Silk, in friendly tones, "you turned up? I'd
almost given you up for good."

"I'm going to Riddell's," said Wyndham, determined