^aul Blake 
 
 llusfra^ed
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 

 
 EXPELLED: 
 
 A STORY OF 
 
 EASTCOTE SCHOOL.
 
 'HE WAS WITHIN A FEW FEET OF THE SUMMIT.'
 
 EXPELLED 
 
 Storg o! (Eastcote Sdjool. 
 
 TAUL BLAKE. 
 
 LONDON AND NEW YORK: 
 FREDERICK WARNE AND CO. 
 
 1886.
 
 Morrison & G,U, /TnWwrM. 
 Printers to Her Majesty's Stationery Cjffice.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 I HAD some thoughts of dedicating the following pages 
 to boys who had been expelled from school. But on 
 reflection it was evident that they were the very boys 
 who would not care to read a book touching on such a 
 subject. Then, too, an old proverb occurred to me about 
 locking the door after the steed was stolen. 
 
 So I resolved, on the principle that prevention is better 
 than cure, to dedicate this story to all boys who have 
 never been expelled. May all those to whom it is 
 dedicated read it. 
 
 r. B. 
 
 
 622683
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 en A p. 
 
 I. C1IASSEZ-CROISF.Z ! . 
 
 II. EASTCOTK, .... 
 
 III. THE FIGHT AT THE BATHING COVI% 
 
 IV. THE NEW BOY, 
 
 V. THE ' CHEQUEHS,' . 
 VI. GORE IN TROUBLE,. 
 VII. A VISIT TO THE SPINNEY,. 
 V11I. A QUAUUEL AND ITS CONSEQUENCES, 
 IX. A STEP TOO FAU, . 
 
 X. HOIST WITH HIS OWN PETARD, 
 XI. THE LAST, .... 
 
 PAOE 
 13 
 
 22 
 
 30 
 
 39 
 
 51 
 
 64 
 
 74 
 
 87 
 
 98 
 108 
 113
 
 EXPELLED. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 : CIIASSEZ-CROISBZ ! ' 
 
 IT was a hot afternoon in August. 
 The lavatory of Eastcote School 
 was the scene of unwonted uproar. 
 Emerton, a tall, handsome boy, 
 was engaged in fastening a white 
 necktie. Goodman, close by him, 
 was striving hard to impart to a 
 pair of very red hands a cleanliness 
 Avhich, as a rule, was quite unknown 
 to them. Tom Russell, a small, 
 bright - looking lad, having just 
 washed himself carefully, was en- 
 deavouring to make his shoes shine 
 like patent leather (which they certainly were not), quite 
 forgetting that the operation would necessitate another 
 application of the soap and water. 
 
 18
 
 14 EXPELLED. 
 
 At last all the rubbing was over, and the three boys 
 commenced the important operation of brushing their 
 hair. Goodman found that his persisted in standing up 
 like a mop, Emerton thereupon suggesting to him that he 
 should stand on his head in order to make it lie down. 
 Goodman did not take Emerton's chaff in good part, for 
 he was painfully conscious that he was about as ungainly 
 a boy as could well be imagined. He had an unpleasant 
 habit of continually growing out of his clothes ; his 
 collars were always a size too small, and nearly choked 
 him, making his face redder than it was even by nature ; 
 his gloves were never fastened, and not infrequently had 
 a big slit down the back. 
 
 ' Now then,' cried Emerton, ' hurry up ! We shall have 
 to start in two minutes, and you fellows are not half ready.' 
 
 ' Wait a second ! ' cried Goodman, trying hard to push 
 his hand into his lavender glove, and fearing every 
 moment to hear the ominous pop which would demon- 
 strate that his efforts had been only too successful. 
 
 ' Now then, you Tom,' called Emerton, ' go and get my 
 hat.' 
 
 Tom obeyed. It seemed to be his function to obey, 
 and he appeared quite resigned to it. 
 
 What was the cause of these unusual ablutions in the 
 middle of the day 1 How was it that these boys, who 
 generally at four o'clock in the afternoon were more or 
 less muddy, should find themselves before a looking-glass, 
 doing all they could to make themselves presentable ? 
 
 This was the secret. It was the first afternoon on which 
 Mr. Wiggins's dancing-class was to be held. Hitherto the 
 boys had grown up ignorant of that elegant art, but Mr. 
 Wiggins had recently determined that the village of
 
 ' CHASSEZ-CROISEZ ! ' 13 
 
 Eustcote should lack no longer a professor of that accom- 
 plishment which imparts ease to the movements, accord- 
 ing to the authority of Pope. So once a week he made 
 a descent from a neighbouring county town, and taught 
 the youths and maidens of the village what he knew of 
 deportment and dancing, holding a separate class for the 
 Eastcote School. Only four of the boys were permitted 
 to attend, the three we have already named, and Kickards. 
 Kickards was a day-boy, and his absence from the lavatory 
 is therefore accounted for. He was to join the others 
 at the small room hired by Mr. Wiggins behind the 
 stationer's shop ; his sister, Florence Kickards, who was a 
 great friend of Cissie Kussell, Tom's sister, was also to be 
 a pupil. Tom and Cissie, however, did not go together ; 
 Cissie arrived in the charge of her mother, the wife of 
 the headmaster of Eastcote, Dr. Kussell. 
 
 Behold now the dancing-class assembled, our three 
 friends and the two young ladies, aged respectively nine 
 and ten. Shy enough they all looked, with the exception 
 of Emerton. He had the airs of a small man of the 
 world, and was accustomed to this kind of thing. 
 
 Goodman, on the other hand, felt like the proverbial 
 bull in a china shop. He had never been to a dance 
 in his life, and knew no more about chassez-croisez or the 
 first position than he did of Sanskrit. 
 
 Tom Russell looked upon the whole affair as a big joke. 
 He came into the room brimful of good nature and good 
 humour, expecting to have a long half hour of fun. He 
 did not see his sister very often, and one of the greatest 
 treats in his life was to meet her. Next to meeting her, 
 he liked to meet her friend Florrie, who was quite 
 unaware of the interest he took in her.
 
 16 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' Good afternoon, young gentlemen,' said Mr. Wiggins, 
 with a smile, as the boys entered. ' You see the young 
 ladies have arrived before you.' 
 
 Tom giggled ; Goodman twisted his thumbs ; Enierton 
 said, ' It is our misfortune, not our fault.' Tom looked 
 astonished, and Goodman envious. 
 
 ' Now, gentlemen,' said Mr. Wiggins, drawing himself 
 up to his full height five feet six and giving a pre- 
 liminary flourish on his kit, ' we will begin. In dancing, 
 as in everything else, there must be a beginning. Please 
 imitate my movements ; stand upright, in an attitude firm, 
 yet graceful; easy, and yet dignified.' So saying, he 
 drew himself into what is known as the first position. 
 Emerton, although seeming to consider it rather infra dig., 
 imitated him successfully. 
 
 Goodman tried his best to do the same, but looked 
 fc about as awkward as a raw recruit when attempting the 
 goose-step for the first time. 
 
 Tom got his wrong foot in front, looked at his sister, 
 and began to laugh. 
 
 'Very good indeed, gentlemen,' said Mr. Wiggins en- 
 couragingly, but, at the same time, going to Goodman, 
 he placed one arm to the right, and another to the left, 
 giving him a slight touch under the chin to make him 
 elevate his head. 
 
 ' A little more ease,' he said to that bashful youth, 
 more grace. A slight smile gives an additional charm 
 to the countenance.' 
 
 For some minutes Mr. Wiggins carefully showed the 
 three boys how to stand. Tom, however, soon came to 
 temporary grief. In trying to change from the first 
 position to the second somewhat too rapidly, he came in
 
 ' CHASSEZ-CROISEZ ! ' 17 
 
 contact with Goodman. Goodman, who had quite as 
 much as he could do to keep himself from falling over in 
 the constrained position he was obliged to occupy, over- 
 toppled, and cannoned against Emerton. 
 
 ' I wish to goodness you would mind what you are up 
 to ! ' said that youth. ' Can't you stand on one leg for 
 a moment ? I should have thought any goose could do 
 that.' 
 
 ' You shut up ! ' returned Goodman, with a fierce look. 
 
 ' Gentlemen, gentlemen ! ' remonstrated Mr. Wiggins. 
 Goodman subsided, Emerton contenting himself with a 
 supercilious sneer. Tom was disappointed ; he had hoped 
 that this little incident might entail a row, and Tom, like 
 most schoolboys, was never so pleased as when a row was 
 imminent. However, for this time, his wish was not 
 gratified, and the lesson went slowly on. 
 
 Mr. Wiggins was patient and firm. However, after a ' 
 quarter of an hour's hard work, he told them that they 
 might rest for a minute whilst he took the young ladies 
 in hand. Goodman and Tom were glad enough to do 
 so, and Emerton lounged against the door in the most 
 approved fashion, whilst Florrie and Cissie moved to the 
 centre of the room. It was pretty evident that they had 
 been practising alone before the boys arrived, for they 
 knew all about the positions, and when they were uncer- 
 tain of any step they did not cannon against each other 
 like falling ninepins, as the boys had done, but moved 
 gracefully and easily, even when incorrectly. 
 
 Tom looked on in admiration ; Goodman felt more 
 unhappy than ever, for the thought struck him that very 
 soon he would have to dance with one of these girls, and 
 what would happen then he shuddered to think.
 
 18 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' Now, gentlemen,' said Mr. Wiggins, ' will you join the 
 ladies?' 
 
 They moved forward, but that was alL 
 
 ' Allow me to show you how you should approach a 
 lady in a ball-room ; watch me carefully.' 
 
 The little professor then walked slowly forward, ' with 
 a crook in his back,' as Tom whispered to Goodman. 
 Bowing low before Cissie, he said, in a tone of honey, 
 ' May I have the pleasure of your hand in the next 
 quadrille, Miss Kussell ? ' 
 
 Miss Russell did not reply ; perhaps she Ava-s scarcely 
 expected to. Mr. Wiggins suddenly straightened himself, 
 turned to the boys, and said, 
 
 ' That is how you should do. Now, will you try, Mr. 
 Goodman ? ' 
 
 Goodman felt very flattered at being addressed as ' Mr.' ; 
 he wished, however, he had not been pitched upon to 
 make the first experiment, but there was no help for it. 
 He pulled himself together, shuffled forward, and then 
 forgot what he had to say. Tom, who had been vainly 
 trying to bottle up a laugh for the last five minutes, here 
 exploded. Goodman turned sharply round, and made a 
 step towards him, which had plenty of firmness in it, if 
 lacking in grace, and was about to administer condign 
 punishment, but Tom slipped out of his reach. 
 
 ' Come, come, sir!' said Mr. Wiggins ; 'please remember 
 ladies are present.' 
 
 Goodman blushed more than ever, and turned 
 away. 
 
 ' You try, Mr. Emerton,' said Mr. Wiggins, turning to 
 that youth. 
 
 Emerton fulfilled his duty with ease, although, as Tom
 
 1 CHASSEZ-CROISEZ ! ' 19 
 
 remarked with a frown, instead of addressing himself to 
 Cissie, he spoke to Florence. 
 
 Tom then made an attempt to follow his example, and 
 succeeded pretty well, except that at the critical moment 
 of requesting the pleasure he burst out again into laughter. 
 
 ' You mustn't,' said Cissie, with a frown. 
 
 Tom sobered as well as he could, although his face still 
 bore more than the slight smile recommended by the 
 professor. 
 
 ' !N"ow, gentlemen, I will instruct you how to hold a 
 lady. Take her right hand in your left ; do not press it, 
 simply hold it. Pass your right hand gently behind her 
 waist. No, no, Master Kussell ! do not grasp her as if 
 she were a cricket-bat.' 
 
 Tom, whose laugh was very easily started, almost 
 exploded again. Mr. Wiggins was not angry this time, 
 because the little joke was his own. It seemed very odd 
 to Tom to be standing there holding his sister in that 
 fashion ; it all seemed so comical. Florence too appeared 
 rather uneasy in the hands of Emerton; she was not 
 accustomed to have a boy's arm round her waist. How- 
 ever, she underwent the singular operation with consider- 
 able sangfroid. Goodman was out of it, and was standing 
 alone near the wall ; however, he soon had a companion. 
 The door again opened, and Rickards appeared ; he had 
 been detained by the breaking of a link of his cuff, and 
 had been obliged to make shift with a paper-fastener 
 instead. He entered the room with a rush, but started 
 back surprised at the tableau presented. He had reckoned 
 on the pleasure of dancing with Cissie, for whom he had 
 a great, but hitherto disguised admiration ; judge then of 
 his feelings when Mr. Wiggins said,
 
 20 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' We are unfortunately, gentlemen, short of ladies this 
 afternoon. Will you, Mr. Eickards, play the part of a 
 lady, and let Mr. Goodman be the gentleman ? ' 
 
 Eickards blushed ; he was not yet beyond the blushing 
 stage. Goodman felt relieved ; as long as he had a boy in 
 his grasp he was fairly at home ; he seized Eickards by 
 the hand, and put his arm well round his waist, as if he 
 was about to begin a wrestling match. But Mr. Wiggins 
 soon put that matter right, and then stepped back some 
 yards in order to contemplate the scene before him. It 
 certainly was comical enough, but he did not view it in 
 that light. 
 
 ' Yes, gentlemen, I think that will do. We are not far 
 enough advanced to try dancing in couples this afternoon, 
 so I think now you had better separate again.' 
 
 ' Well, this is precious slow,' remarked Emerton under 
 his breath. Tom looked up with admiration; he only 
 wished he could look upon the whole affair in the light 
 in which Emerton regarded it. To his youthful mind 
 Emerton was the perfection of a swell ; he did everything 
 so easily, and as if it came by nature. Tom was painfully 
 aware of the fact that everything he was told to do went 
 against the grain, and it was only when he was involved 
 in mischief that he felt at his ease. 
 
 The half-hour soon sped away. At its close Mr. 
 Wiggins professed himself so pleased with their progress 
 that once more he told the gentlemen to advance and 
 claim their partners. This time Goodman was detailed to 
 dance with Florence, much to Tom's chagrin. Emerton 
 also had promised himself the pleasure of once more 
 standing beside her, and was not pleased to see Goodman 
 in his place ; still less pleased was he when Goodman, by
 
 1 CHASSEZ-CROISEZ ! ' 21 
 
 an unfortunate accident, managed to put his far from light 
 foot on Florence's shoe. Florence started back with a 
 little cry of pain. 
 
 Emerton could not refrain from calling out, 
 
 ' You clumsy lout ! can't you see what you are doing 1 ' 
 
 'Don't you call me names !' retorted Goodman angrily; 
 and, dropping Florence entirely, he turned round to 
 Emerton. Evidently his blood was up ; throughout the 
 afternoon he had been painfully comparing himself with 
 Emerton, and becoming more angry every minute, and 
 now that he heard himself called a ' lout ' in the presence 
 of the girls, he could no longer contain himself. 
 
 ' I will smash your head in if you can't keep a civil 
 tongue in it,' he called out in a rage. 
 
 The two girls ran to each other, expecting that something 
 dreadful was going to happen. No elderly lady was pre- 
 sent, for Mrs. Kussell had retired some minutes previ- 
 ously. However, Mr. Wiggins threw oil on the troubled 
 waters : 
 
 ' Come, come, gentlemen ! ' he said insinuatingly ; ' please 
 keep your temper. Kemember, ladies are present.' 
 
 This seemed to be one of his favourite phrases. At all 
 events it was sufficient for this occasion, for Goodman 
 dropped his hand, which he had raised threateningly, and 
 turned sulkily away. Emerton took no notice of the out- 
 burst of passion, and a few minutes afterwards the boys 
 were dismissed, Mrs. Kussell returning to take charge of 
 Cissie as they ran down-stairs.
 
 CIIAPTEE II. 
 
 EASTCOTB. 
 
 EASTCOTE SCHOOL was presided 
 over by Dr. Russell. It was 
 a private school, consisting of 
 thirty boarders and twenty-five 
 day-boys. According to the 
 prospectus, it was beautifully 
 situated on the healthiest part 
 of the sea coast. 
 
 Emerton was by common 
 consent considered the 'cock 
 of the school;' he was the 
 
 cleverest boy in it, and first at most of the sports. He 
 had had no rival for more than a year, but lately Good- 
 man had shot up wonderfully from a small sturdy boy 
 to a tall lad. He, more than any other, had suffered 
 from Emerton's tyranny when he was small, but his 
 opinion had of late grown stronger that the time was 
 
 drawing near when he would no longer endure the airs 
 
 22
 
 EASTCOTB. 23 
 
 which Emerton gave himself. He quite believed he 
 could lick him now if he tried, and he wanted an occasion 
 for trying to present itself. The incident at the dancing- 
 class had given him. a chance which he was not inclined 
 to let slip ; though he said nothing as the boys walked 
 back to the school-house. 
 
 During tea-time he was concocting a scheme of ven- 
 geance for the insult put upon him by Emerton. He 
 consulted with Webb, one of his chums, a small boy, who 
 was one of the ringleaders in every kind of mischief. 
 Webb, on hearing the whole story, strongly advised him 
 to challenge Emerton to fight, and said that he could not 
 possibly pass over the insult which had been given him. 
 
 ' It is not,' said the small boy, ' as if he had called you 
 a lout here ; that you might have passed over ; but when 
 other people are present no fellow can stand a thing like 
 that.' 
 
 Goodman had considerable respect for Webb's opinion, 
 for Webb was at Eastcote preparing to go to Harrow when 
 he was fourteen, and had a big brother there already, so 
 his opinion on matters of school etiquette and honour of 
 course carried great weight. 
 
 ' I believe I could lick him,' said Goodman, bending 
 his arm and feeling his muscle. 
 
 ' Why, of course you could ! ' returned Webb ; ' he has 
 not fought any one for more than a year, and you have 
 had lots of fighting.' 
 
 This was quite true. Goodman was always getting 
 into scrapes, and was only too ready to resort to the ordeal 
 of battle. 
 
 Tea and prayers were over, and the evening had set in. 
 From seven till half-past eight was the time of prepara-
 
 24 EXI'DLLED. 
 
 tion of lessons for the succeeding day. The boarders were 
 all assembled in the schoolroom at their desks, whilst at his 
 high desk in the corner sat one of the masters on this 
 occasion, Mr. Black. Preparation-time, however, was not 
 very strictly observed, Mr. Black holding the view that if 
 a boy could prepare his lessons in an hour, he might use 
 the remainder of his time as he liked, as long as he did 
 not disturb the others. So there was a good deal of 
 miscellaneous reading and writing going on, many of the 
 boys taking advantage of the master's leniency to neglect 
 their -lessons almost entirely, if they had anything else 
 they wanted to do. Of course they suffered for this on 
 the succeeding day, but that was their own look-out. 
 
 On this particular evening, Goodman failed to attend to 
 his work at all. He and Webb employed themselves in 
 the composition of an elaborate challenge to Emerton. 
 The first draft was not satisfactory, and was torn up, 
 but the second one seemed to meet the case. It ran as 
 follows : 
 
 'I will fight you any time this week, down at the 
 village. You called me a clumsy lout. I will show you 
 that French polish is not going to have its own way in 
 everything.' 
 
 The meaning was clear enough, although the expression 
 of it was certainly a little mixed. The paper was neatly 
 folded, and addressed to 
 
 ' C. EMERTON, ESQUIRE,' 
 
 for in a formal challenge like this it was felt that no point 
 of etiquette must be neglected. The next point was to 
 get the challenge delivered. Webb flatly refused to have 
 any hand in that ; so Goodman handed it to Tom, who 
 was sitting next to him.
 
 EASTCOTE. 25 
 
 It was Tom's unhappy fate to be always chosen for 
 unpleasant duties of this kind. He was the son of the 
 headmaster, and, as such, was popularly supposed to be 
 able to run any risks without danger. Unfortunately for 
 Tom this was quite a mistake, for Dr. Russell, when he 
 placed his son in his own school, resolved that he should 
 be treated exactly the same as any other boy ; in fact, in 
 the fear of being thought to act partially towards his son, 
 he was more than usually harsh to him. The consequence 
 was, that between his schoolfellows and his father Tom 
 had rather a bad time of it. However, on the present 
 occasion he did not make any objection to carrying the 
 precious missive. In the first place, he guessed what it 
 was, and looked forward with pleasurable anticipation to 
 the coming row between the two big boys. Besides, ho 
 well knew that, had he refused to carry it, Goodman would 
 inevitably have licked him on the first opportunity ; so, 
 under the pretext of wanting to ask Mr. Black a question, 
 he went up to his desk, and, as he returned, slipped the 
 challenge on Emerton's desk in front of him, and then 
 resumed his place, watching carefully the effect of his 
 action. 
 
 Emerton took up the note, read it, drew a piece of 
 paper out of his case, scribbled a couple of words upon it, 
 and flipped it carelessly across the room. It fell near 
 Webb, who picked it up and handed it to Goodman ; it 
 simply contained the words, 'All right.' Mr. Black, 
 however, had witnessed the action, and had noticed also 
 what Tom had done. 
 
 'Bring me that paper, Emerton,' he said. Emerton 
 looked up and saw the master's eye fixed on him. There 
 was no help for it. He took the challenge up to Mr,
 
 26 EXPELLED. 
 
 Black, who read it, crumpled it up, and threw it in the 
 fireplace. He did not say anything then, but Goodman's 
 feelings were far from comfortable. 
 
 Preparation was over at last. 
 
 ' Goodman, stay behind ! ' cried Mr. Black. Goodman 
 obeyed, retaining his seat, while the others poured out of 
 the room on their way to their bedrooms. 
 
 'Did you write that note?' asked Mr. Black. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' said Goodman. 
 
 ' What does this mean V inquired the master. 
 
 Goodman made no reply. 
 
 ' Write me out one hundred lines/ said Mr. Black. 
 ' Now you can go to bed. I shall have my eye on you 
 during the next few days.' 
 
 Goodman slunk off, feeling, if possible, still more incensed 
 against Emerton, who, as he not unnaturally thought, had 
 purposely left the note lying on his desk. 
 
 ' Look here, you young beggar ! ' said Emerton to Tom 
 as they reached the dormitory; ' I will teach you to bring 
 cheeky notes to me.' 
 
 He caught him by the arm and boxed his ears, Tom 
 making futile efforts to escape. 
 
 ' It wasn't my fault,' pleaded Tom ; ' he would have 
 licked me if I had not brought it.' 
 
 ' And I have licked you now that you have brought it,' 
 responded Emerton complacently, letting him go with a 
 final kick. Nevertheless Tom bore it with equanimity, 
 for he knew now that the fight must come off sooner or 
 later, and he was almost the only boy in possession of the 
 important news, a fact which raised his estimation of 
 himself considerably. 
 
 Before five minutes had passed, pretty nearly all the
 
 EASTCOTB. 27 
 
 boys were aware of the challenge, and various opinions 
 were expressed as to the result of the coming combat. 
 Most of the boys were by no means sorry that Goodman 
 had at last plucked up courage to oppose Emerton, for 
 many of them had suffered from his tyranny in times 
 past. 
 
 ' He's a good deal too cheeky,' was a small boy's remark; 
 ' he's always punching a fellow's head for nothing. I 
 hope Goodman will lick him.' 
 
 Webb, it was noticed, did not take any part in the dis- 
 cussion ; the fact was, that he was a very cautious lad, and 
 wished to see the result of the fight before throwing in 
 his lot with either of the two sections. 
 
 Tom really did not care which won, for he was more 
 or less bullied by both. Perhaps he hated Emerton the 
 most, for he envied as well as disliked him. He did his 
 lessons without an effort; he was at the head of the 
 school, and he would win the single scholarship of which 
 Eastcote boasted. He did not crib, because there was no 
 need ; he had no rival worth thinking of. Rickards was 
 the only one who could run him at all close, and he 
 was a day-boy, and, as such, ineligible for this particular 
 prize. Goodman, although as big, was far down in the 
 school ; another reason why he hated Emerton. Tom 
 was generally at the bottom of his class ; he had so many 
 punishments that he generally had to employ his prepara- 
 tion time in doing them, a course of conduct which 
 entailed a further series of punishments the next day. 
 
 It had soon become known amongst the day-boys that 
 Goodman had been guilty of the tremendous effrontery of 
 challenging Emerton. Their only fear was, that the 
 encounter might take place without their knowledge.
 
 28 
 
 EXPELLED. 
 
 They knew well enough that it must be held in the village, 
 out of the school precincts, for there was no corner of the 
 playground sufficiently far removed from the house for it 
 to take place there in safety ; but they were afraid the 
 secret of the meeting might be kept, and that they would 
 not see any of the fun. 
 
 By the school rules, the boys were allowed twice a week 
 to have an hour and a half free in the village, to do just 
 
 as they liked, permission being first obtained. Of course 
 it was during this much-valued holiday that all the fights 
 took place. However, this outing was dependent on good 
 conduct No boy might go into the village unless he had 
 finished up all his punishments ; this put off all chance of 
 a fight for at least a week, for Goodman had several 
 punishments on hand, in addition to the one he had 
 received for sending the challenge.
 
 EASTCOTB. 29 
 
 ' What an awful nuisance it is !' said Webb. ' As likely 
 as not they will make it up before the week is out.' 
 
 ' That will never do,' replied Mason. ' We must help 
 Goodman. Black won't care who does the lines, as long 
 as they are done. I'll do fifty, if you will.' 
 
 Webb agreed, for ho was very anxious that the fight 
 should take place. Goodman for once found his friends 
 only too ready to do him a service, and, although he knew 
 that they did it for selfish reasons, he was not at all sorry 
 to get his punishments done by proxy. 
 
 At the close of morning school he walked up to Emerton 
 and said, 
 
 ' Will to-morrow afternoon do for you?' 
 
 ' Any time you like,' replied Emerton ; ' it will bo 
 equally agreeable to me.' 
 
 ' I hope you may find it so,' retorted Goodman. 
 
 ' You may bo quite certain I shall,' returned he ; ' it is 
 always good fun to me to lick impertinent cads.' 
 
 Goodman looked for a moment as if he were about to 
 anticipate the next day's encounter; but he restrained 
 himself and said, ' I will smash you to a jelly for that.' 
 
 ' All right ! ' said Emerton ; ' you can try to-morrow.'
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FIGHT AT THE BATHING COVE. 
 
 ' THERE, Goodie ! ' exclaimed 
 Tom; 'there's fifty lines for 
 you, and if you win you will 
 have to pay them back to me 
 next time I get into a row.' 
 Goodman did not reply, al- 
 though he accepted the gift. 
 
 He made an awful hash of 
 his lessons that morning, for 
 the important event was to 
 come off in the afternoon. 
 
 The boys found their way 
 down to the well-known spot 
 the bathing cove in small 
 bodies of three or four, so as 
 not to create suspicion. 
 Rarely in the history of the school had punishments 
 been wiped off with such rapidity ; every boy was anxious 
 to be on the scene of action. Day-boys turned out in 
 considerable force, forgetting everything else in the all- 
 absorbing theme of the great conflict at hand. The spot 
 selected was certainly retired enough ; it was cut off 
 
 30
 
 THE FIGHT AT , THE BATHING COVE. 31 
 
 from the bathing cove by a line of rocks ; the sand was 
 hard and firm at low water. 
 
 In a few minutes an impromptu ring was formed, and 
 round this gathered the interested spectators. It was 
 discovered that by some oversight neither of the principals 
 had a second. 
 
 ' Here, you Webb ! ' said Emerton ; ' you be my second.' 
 
 'Very well, Emerton,' responded Webb, although he 
 would very gladly have been excused. 
 
 Goodman looked round to see Avhom he should ask, for 
 no one volunteered ; there was not a boy who was not 
 afraid to do so for fear of the subsequent vengeance of 
 Emerton, should he win. 
 
 ' Now, young Tom,' said Goodman, ' you come and be 
 my second, or else I'll ' He left the threat unfinished, 
 and Tom, to his great disgust, had to come forward. 
 
 The two big boys took off their coats, waistcoats, and 
 collars, and faced each other in the diminutive ring. Time- 
 keepers were not appointed. The fact was, that a regular 
 fight was of such rare occurrence at Eastcote that formalities 
 of this description were generally omitted. 
 
 Kickards gave the word, and the combatants doubled 
 their fists and advanced slowly towards each other. 
 
 Fighting is not a pleasant thing. It is often said that 
 it is best for boys who have a quarrel to fight that it 
 lets off bad blood that they can shake hands after it and 
 be better friends than ever. That may be the case some- 
 times, but for once that it may let off a little bad blood, 
 it engenders more a dozen times. As long as boys are 
 boys, fighting will probably be more or less frequent 
 amongst them, but the rarer it is the better. 
 
 It is one's loAver nature that comes to the top on
 
 32 EXPELLED. 
 
 such occasions one's better feelings for the time are 
 entirely crushed. A fight in a good cause is truly noble, 
 but in a bad cause it is about the worst thing one can 
 undertake. 
 
 Unfortunately, on the present occasion, the cause Avas 
 undoubtedly bad, and no one but an unthinking lad could 
 have looked with any pleasure on the struggle that now 
 took place. 
 
 In ten minutes it was evident that Goodman's strength 
 would not be of much avail against Emerton's superior 
 skill. At the first, the big boy had the advantage, but 
 very soon Tom found that his man was getting more and 
 more unwilling to come to the scratch, whilst Emerton 
 seemed almost as fresh as ever. When a man loses heart 
 he loses half his strength, and Goodman soon seemed to 
 feel that his chance of success was but small ; he fought 
 aimlessly and wildly, and floundered about on the deeply 
 trampled sand, several times measuring his length on it. 
 In less than a quarter of an hour it was all over, and 
 Tom had the unpleasant duty of doing what he could to 
 aid the vanquished. 
 
 Emerton apparently had sustained little damage his 
 nose was bleeding, but that was soon stopped. Goodman, 
 although showing but few signs of injury, was badly hurt 
 about the body ; he was panting, both with rage and 
 from want of breath, and in reply to Tom's query as to 
 how he felt, he merely vouchsafed a surly ' Never you 
 mind.' 
 
 ' There, that will do,' said Emerton to Webb, who was 
 wiping the blood from his face with a wet handkerchief ; 
 ' I am all right now. The sooner some of you fellows get 
 back home the better.'
 
 THE FIGHT AT THE BATHING COVE. 33 
 
 ' I am jolly glad you've won ! ' said Webb ; ' I thought 
 you would.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I guess I have done for that lout now,' replied 
 he, putting his coat on and commencing to walk towards 
 the school. 
 
 As he passed Goodman, he stopped for a moment. 
 
 * I hope you are satisfied,' he said. 
 
 Goodman gave a surly growl in reply. 
 
 ' Perhaps this will be a lesson to you how to behave 
 to your betters,' continued Emerton, and then walked on, 
 with a small crowd of admirers at his heels. 
 
 Goodman soon followed him, taking Tom's arm 
 unwillingly. 
 
 'It's all your fault, you young beggar,' he said; 'if 
 you'd backed me up a little better, I believe I should have 
 licked him.' 
 
 ' Oh no, you wouldn't/ said Tom cheerily ; ' he'd the 
 best of it all along, I could see.' 
 
 ' No, he hadn't,' returned Goodman. ' I'll punch your 
 head if you can't keep a civil tongue hi your mouth.' 
 
 Tom thought this rather hard, considering he had been 
 his second against his will. 
 
 Just then Mason came up. 
 
 ' Hallo, Goodie ! ' he remarked ; ' you won't look so 
 handsome as usual next time you go to the dancing- 
 class.' 
 
 Goodman made a savage hit at him, but missed. Tom 
 burst out laughing, and in a moment received a tremendous 
 blow from the vanquished would-be champion which laid 
 him flat on the sand. Directly he rose he ran off as hard 
 as he could, leaving Goodman to find his way home 
 alone. 
 
 o
 
 34 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' I say, Tom,' remarked Mason, a few days later, as 
 they were both wandering about the playground, ' my 
 cousin's coming here next week.' 
 
 ' Who is he ? ' inquired Tom. 
 
 ' He's called Gore,' was the reply. ' I haven't seen him 
 for a long time, but he used to be a jolly fellow.' 
 
 ' Will he be in the eleven 1 ' asked Tom, who had hopes 
 of being soon elected into the team. 
 
 ' I should think so,' replied the other ; * why, he is 
 more than sixteen.' 
 
 Poor Tom's countenance fell, for he saw that his chance 
 of promotion was indefinitely postponed. 
 
 ' Never mind,' said Mason ; ' some fellows are sure to go 
 at the end of the term, and you are safe to be in the 
 eleven next season.' 
 
 A sudden thought struck Tom. 
 
 ' Is he as big as Emerton ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' I don't know, I'm sure ; I haven't seen him for such 
 an awful time ; but I hope he is.' 
 
 Tom acquiesced in this hope, for, although less than a 
 week had elapsed since the big fight, most of the boys had 
 had cause to regret that Emerton had been victorious. 
 His behaviour had become simply unbearable; none of 
 the masters had such authority as he had, at least out of 
 the school. He carried his tyranny to an extreme point, 
 bullying nearly every one without distinction, till some of 
 the smaller boys had almost determined to form a society 
 for his suppression ; but there was a difficulty in managing 
 it, for Emerton was skilful enough to carry on his tyranny 
 when but few were present. 
 
 As the two small boys were talking of him, he came up. 
 
 ' Here, you Tom ! ' he said sharply ; ' I want you to go
 
 THE FIGHT AT THE BATHING COVE. 35 
 
 down to the village and fetch my big knife ; it's being 
 ground at Smith's, you know, the ironmonger's.' 
 
 ' Don't you wish you may get it ! ' said Tom. ' I got into 
 an awful row last week for breaking bounds, and I'm not 
 going to chance it again.' 
 
 ' Breaking bounds ' was a great offence at Eastcote. Dr. 
 Eussell considered that he gave the boys quite as much 
 liberty as was good for them, and any one who was rash 
 enough to visit the village at forbidden hours was con- 
 sidered to have committed one of the gravest offences 
 against school discipline. Notwithstanding the fear of 
 subsequent severe punishment, breaking bounds was a 
 transgression which frequently was committed, and Tom 
 had on many occasions been obliged to make a furtive 
 excursion at prohibited times. However, he had now 
 determined that he would not run the risk any more, at 
 all events for the present. 
 
 { What do you mean, you young beggar 1 ' exclaimed 
 Emerton, in reply to Tom's speech. 
 
 ' If you want to go, go yourself,' replied Tom pluckily, 
 at the same time keeping well out of Emerton's reach. 
 
 ' That's right, Tom ! ' chimed in Mason, backing him up 
 manfully. 
 
 At this juncture Webb appeared on the scene. Since 
 the fight he had attached himself to Emerton, and the 
 two were rarely apart; he performed the function of a 
 parasite to a patron. 
 
 ' Here, Webb ! ' called out Emerton ; ' just catch that 
 Tom for me, and kick him.' 
 
 Webb hastened to obey, for he was bigger than Tom, 
 and knew from long experience that he would have no 
 difficulty in this case. Emerton seized Mason, and held
 
 36 EXPELLED. 
 
 him back, in order that he might not interpose ; but Tom's 
 blood was up, and he refused to be licked. Breaking 
 from Webb's grasp, after giving him one blow, he ran as 
 hard as he could towards the middle of the playground, 
 where stood the giant's stride. Seizing a rope in his 
 hands and the pole with his legs, he rapidly swarmed up 
 to the top. Webb did his best to pull the rope from 
 under him; but Tom's grasp was too sure, and he was 
 soon completely out of reach. 
 
 ' Hallo ! ' sang out Ellis, who was near. ' Go it, Tom ! ' 
 
 Other boys quickly gathered round, and incited Webb 
 to follow Tom up the pole. This was not quite what 
 Webb wanted to do, but he could not show the white 
 feather in the presence of so many, so he commenced to 
 swarm upwards. However, Tom had decidedly the advan- 
 tage, and, seizing the rope by which Webb was climbing, 
 he shook it so fiercely that Webb could make no headway 
 at all, and soon dropped to the ground again. 
 
 ' All right ! ' he shouted. ' I'll soon fetch you out oi 
 that. Here you are, everybody ! take cock-shots at him.' 
 
 This proposal was received with acclamation, and Tom 
 soon had cause to regret that he had climbed into such 
 deceptive safety. Balls and pebbles flew around him; 
 he couldn't retaliate, and had to dodge the missiles as 
 best he might. Emerton and Goodman, who had now 
 joined the throng, laughing loudly, urged the youngsters 
 to continue the fun. Tom saw that his position was 
 becoming untenable. He seized a loose rope, and, swing- 
 ing it round, soon cleared a vacant circle of several feet. 
 But this did not avail him much ; and before long Webb 
 had seized the rope which he was swinging, and held on 
 to it ; other boys seized the remaining ropes, and Tom had
 
 THE FIGHT AT THE BATHING COVE. 37 
 
 now no means of defence. However, he managed to jerk 
 one rope from the hands of a small boy, and, swinging 
 this viciously round, he hit Webb on the head with the 
 wooden handle attached to it. Webb dropped to the 
 ground as if he had been shot. In another moment Tom 
 was on the ground beside him, fearing that he had killed 
 him. 
 
 ' Get some water ! ' he shouted excitedly, as he knelt 
 beside the prostrate boy. 
 
 ' Oh, bosh ! ' said Mason. ' He isn't hurt ; he's only 
 shamming.' 
 
 To Tom's immense relief Webb opened his eyes and 
 got up. 
 
 All the boys were so intent on the occurrence that no 
 one noticed that Dr. Kussell was crossing the playground 
 to see what was causing all this commotion, and before 
 any one knew of his approach he was in the centre of the 
 group. 
 
 ' What's this ? ' he asked severely ; ' has any one fallen 
 from the giant's stride ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir,' replied Emerton ; ' but Webb has been hurt 
 by one of the ropes hitting him.' 
 
 ' Who did it ? ' further inquired the Doctor. Tom was 
 obliged to reply. 
 
 ' Please, sir, I did.' 
 
 ' By accident, I presume ? ' 
 
 1 Partly, sir,' said Tom. 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' was the natural inquiry. 
 
 ' I was swinging it round, sir, and it hit him on the 
 head.' 
 
 The defence was a very weak one, and Tom felt it to 
 be so. He further knew it was the moment after, when
 
 38 EXPELLED. 
 
 the Doctor stalked away, leaving Tom with enough work 
 on his hands to last for a couple of days. He slowly 
 followed his father towards the schoolroom, Mason 
 accompanying him, leaving Webb rubbing a bump on 
 his head the size of a pigeon's egg. 
 
 ' I say, Tom, that's precious hard lines,' said Mason. 
 c If I'd been you, I'd have told him how it was.' 
 
 ' Oh, never mind,' rejoined Tom. ' I don't care much, 
 now that I've given that fellow something to remember.' 
 
 ' I almost thought you'd done for him, though,' said 
 Mason. 
 
 'So did I,' returned Tom, with a shudder, as he 
 remembered his sensations when he saw Webb fall ; ' I'm 
 jolly glad I didn't. But if that Emerton thinks I'm going 
 to go down to the village just when he chooses, he is 
 very much mistaken. I shan't.' 
 
 ' No more will I,' said Mason. ' I hope to goodness, 
 when my cousin comes, that he will be able to back me 
 up and beat that fellow. Emerton seems as if he never 
 could have enough of kicking me. One of these days I 
 mean to see if his shins are made of cast-iron.'
 
 Cn AFTER IV. 
 
 THE NEW BOY. 
 
 DR. KUSSELL was an old Cam- 
 bridge man, and in his time 
 had been second wrangler. 
 One of his old college chums 
 was Mr. Gore, who was now 
 a lawyer in large practice. 
 He intended to send his son 
 to Cambridge, but, rinding 
 that at the school at which 
 he had been placed mathe- 
 matics was not made a promi- 
 nent feature of instruction, 
 he had determined that he 
 
 would place him under his old friend for a year or so 
 
 previous to sending him to college. 
 
 89
 
 40 EXPELLED. 
 
 It thus came to pass that Charlie Gore, at the age of 
 sixteen, was placed at a fresh school. He scarcely liked 
 this himself, but his father seemed to imagine that Dr. 
 Kussell's tutorship would be of such advantage to him 
 that he willingly acquiesced in the arrangement. 
 
 To the surprise of the school, on Monday morning they 
 found that there was an addition to their number. Just as 
 school opened, Dr. Eussell walked into the room, followed 
 by a fine young fellow, of upright and manly bearing. 
 The Doctor took the unusual course of introducing the 
 new-comer to the class under his care. 
 
 ' Boys, I have brought you a new companion. I am 
 sure you will find him a valuable addition to your number, 
 both in school and out of it.' 
 
 The boys grinned rather helplessly they did not quite 
 know what to say. Emerton, who usually took the lead 
 on such occasions, was silent likewise, but from the frown 
 which gathered over his face it was easy to observe that 
 the new-comer was far from being welcome as regarded 
 himself. 
 
 ' There he is,' whispered Mason to Tom. ' Isn't he a 
 jolly-looking fellow?' 
 
 'First-rate,' said Tom. 'I should think he could 
 knock Emerton into a cocked hat.' 
 
 ' I only hope he will,' returned Mason. ' Look here ! 
 let's have a lark. I'm going to write a note to Emerton, 
 and you do so too ; we will write alternate words, so that 
 he won't be able to tell who they come from.' 
 
 This idea commended itself to Tom's mind. Phillips 
 was taken into the secret, with several others. A number 
 of little cocked-hat notes were dropped before Emerton's 
 desk at various times during the morning, or slipped slyly
 
 THE NEW BOY. 41 
 
 into his books. As he opened them he seemed to grow 
 more and more angry. The first one ran thus : 
 
 ' This will put your nose out of joint, won't it ? ' 
 
 Needless to say the note was anonymous. 
 
 'Don't show the white feather,' ran another; and a 
 third holder still, 
 
 ' Shall I be your second down at the bathing cove 1 ' 
 
 And so on. 
 
 Before school was over, however, Emerton had quite 
 recovered himself, and as the bell rang for breaking up 
 he walked over to Gore, and, taking his arm, led him for 
 a stroll round the playground. 
 
 ' I hope you'll find it all right here,' he said, in a 
 friendly tone. ' It's rather a hole, but we don't have bad 
 times sometimes. There's some very decent bathing, and 
 our eleven this half is a very tolerable one. You play 
 cricket of course ? ' 
 
 'A little,' replied Gore; 'but I've been going in for 
 exams, so much lately that I am fearfully out of practice. 
 However, I mean to play as much as I can for the next 
 few months.' 
 
 ' Do you swim ? ' asked Emerton. 
 
 ' Oh yes ; I can swim fairly well,' was the reply. 
 
 'It must be rather a bore for you to come here. I 
 should have thought you would have been leaving school 
 about now. How old are you ? ' inquired Emerton. 
 
 'I'm sixteen and a bit,' Gore answered. 'I've only 
 come here for mathematics, I believe.' 
 
 ' Well, you'll find the old boy tremendous on that ; if 
 he had his way he'd try to make senior wranglers of us 
 all, but I don't think he will succeed very soon. Come 
 and let's have an hour's practice before dinner.'
 
 42 EXPELLB1>. 
 
 ' All right,' said Gore ; ' but I want to see one of the 
 fellows here first, as I know something of him. Oh, 
 there he is ! ' 
 
 Emerton watched him with some curiosity as ho ran 
 across the playground towards little Mason, who was 
 quite proud to be seen shaking hands with the new 
 fellow. 
 
 ' How are you, young un ? ' said Gore. ' I haven't seen 
 you for an awful time. I believe you were in knicker- 
 bockers when you last came down to my place.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Mason; 'but please don't let the other 
 fellows here know that I am your cousin.' 
 
 ' "Why not ? ' asked Gore, with a laugh. ' Are you 
 ashamed of me ? ' 
 
 ' JSTo, but they'll think I shall sneak to you about 
 everything if they know, so I don't want you to be 
 too kind to me, at least, not when other fellows are 
 looking.' 
 
 ' Oh, you don't ? ' said Gore, with a smile. ' All right 
 then, look out ! ' and, before Mason knew what he was 
 about, Gore had tossed him over his shoulder, and was 
 running with him towards the wickets. 
 
 ' Oh, please, Gore, let me down ! My head's coming 
 off!' yelled the youngster. 
 
 ' Now then, you go and back stop,' said Gore ; ' and if 
 you let a ball pass, see if I don't take it out of you.' 
 
 Mason ran away to his place, feeling happier than he 
 had done for a long time, for he saw that his cousin was 
 the same as he had known him years before a jolly sort 
 of fellow, always ready to do a good turn to another, even 
 although that other was a diminutive and not particularly 
 respectable little chap.
 
 THE NEW DOT. 43 
 
 Emerton's spirits revived during the next half -hour ; he 
 found that Gore had spoken the strict truth when he said 
 that he did not play cricket much ; he clean bowled him 
 three times, whilst Gore could make no impression on his 
 wicket. Several of the hoys gathered round to watch, 
 for they felt considerable curiosity in reference to the 
 prowess of the new-comer. Goodman was looking on 
 with savage satisfaction, comparing carefully the apparent 
 strength of his enemy and the new-comer. 
 
 ' I say, Goodie,' whispered Tom, as he stood beside him, 
 ' I think the new fellow will have the best of it ; don't 
 you?' 
 
 ' I hope so,' returned Goodman. ' It will serve that 
 fellow precious right if Gore knocks him out of time ! ' 
 
 Poor Goodman for the last ten days had felt fearfully 
 out of it ; no boy paid him the slightest respect, and if he 
 tried to bully a youngster he would immediately retort by 
 threatening to tell Emerton. Moreover, Emerton lost no 
 opportunity of showing how he despised him. However, 
 his defeat had been too severe for him to be able to con- 
 template a renewal of the struggle, and in consequence he 
 had been spending a miserable time, brooding over his 
 lost opportunity, and wishing that he had postponed 
 for another year his endeavour to become cock of the 
 school. 
 
 ' There goes the bell,' said Emerton at last ; ' I'll give 
 you one ball more.' 
 
 ' Fire away !' replied Gore, who was at the wicket; ' let's 
 have one more chance of a slog ! ' 
 
 Emerton bowled a swift, long pitch ; it went to leg ; 
 Gore swiped round and caught it just as it rose. It was 
 a tremendous hit, and the ball flew clean out of the
 
 44 EXPELLED. 
 
 ground, over the hedge and into the little stream which 
 ran at the hack of the ground. 
 
 ' Hallo ! that's gone,' said Mason, ' I can't field that, 
 anyhow.' 
 
 ' In you go ! ' cried Tom ; ' you'll he late if you don't.' 
 
 He set the example by running as hard as he could 
 towards the house, followed by the others more slowly. 
 
 ' That's a nuisance,' said Gore. ' I suppose that's gone 
 for ever.' 
 
 ' I'm afraid so,' replied Emerton ; ' but it doesn't make 
 much difference; we can get a new one down in the village.' 
 
 'That's all right,' said Gore. 'I'll go down and get 
 one some time this afternoon.' 
 
 ' Thanks/ said Emerton. ' We make it a rule here 
 that whoever loses a ball gets a new one ; I thought I 
 might as well tell you.' 
 
 ' Oh, of course ! ' said Gore. ' I'll go down after after- 
 noon school.' 
 
 Gore was ignoiant of the fact that to visit the village 
 without special permission was a heinous offence. 
 
 ' I think I've got him,' said Emerton to himself. ' It 
 won't be a good beginning for him to be caught breaking 
 bounds.' 
 
 Afternoon school was nearly over; the boys were 
 getting more and more tired ; the hum of voices became 
 weaker and weaker, and anxious looks towards the clock 
 more frequent. 
 
 ' I say, Tom,' whispered Mason, ' can you see the clock? 
 I can't from here.' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Tom ; ' it's five minutes to four.' 
 
 ' It ought to be ashamed of itself,' said Mason, ' going 
 so slowly. I believe the old thing is stopped.'
 
 THE NEW BOY. 45 
 
 'Yes, it is ashamed of itself,' said Tom, giggling to 
 himself as he remembered an old riddle. 'It's got its 
 hands before its face.' 
 
 Mason, to whom the joke was new, almost burst out 
 laughing, but restrained himself as he saw Mr. Black's 
 eye on him. 
 
 ' Are you going down to the village after school ? ' he 
 asked. 
 
 'No,' said Tom, turning at once from joyousness to 
 sorrow. ' I've got no end of work to do ; I shall have to 
 stick indoors for the next couple of days.' 
 
 'Well, I'm off,' said Mason. 'Directly the clock 
 strikes I shall strike too.' 
 
 Though this was carried on in whispers, Mr. Black was 
 not unconscious of forbidden conversation, and Mason 
 came very near receiving a punishment which would have 
 put a stop to his projected expedition. However, the 
 master was merciful for once, and a frown sufficed to bring 
 the youngster into order. When the clock did strike he 
 did not hesitate to take advantage of his liberty, and he 
 was by far the first to be outside the gates and in the free 
 air beyond. 
 
 Gore, after loitering about a few minutes, strolled com- 
 placently through the great gates, and began his first walk 
 towards the village of Eastcote. He had seen Mason 
 shoot out shortly before, and thought it was ' rather rum ' 
 that he had not waited for him. He made his way 
 toward the village, intending to get the ball which he 
 owed Emerton; he had inquired where it could be got 
 and the price of it, and found that 2s. 8d. was the sum 
 usually given for practice balls. They were to be obtained, 
 as were most other articles which boys needed, at the
 
 46 EXPELLED. 
 
 ironmonger's. But before he sought the shop he took a 
 short stroll along the cliff, enjoying immensely the, to 
 him, novel sight of the sea ; he watched the vessels as 
 they sailed by, listened to the scream of the gulls as they 
 flew overhead, and congratulated himself that he had been 
 sent to a school at the seaside. His reverie, however, was 
 suddenly interrupted by seeing Mason coming towards 
 him full pelt j on reaching him he was so out of breath 
 that he could only whisper, 
 
 ' Cave ! Black's coming,' and then drop to the ground 
 exhausted. 
 
 ' What on earth's the row ? ' asked Gore. ' You seem 
 to be doing a race against time, little un, and time's had 
 the best of it.' 
 
 ' Kun ! ' said Mason, who had now partly recovered 
 breath. ' You will be nabbed as sure as eggs.' 
 
 Gore looked up, and saw not twenty yards off the figure 
 of Mr. Black, who was taking an afternoon stroll along 
 the cliffs. The sight did not at all frighten him, but for 
 some reason not apparent Mason seemed to imagine that 
 the advent of a master would be sufficient to make him 
 vanish as rapidly as possible. 
 
 ' It's too late now,' said Mason ; ' he has seen you. I 
 wouldn't be in your shoes for a good deal.' 
 
 ' I daresay not ; you'd find them rather uncomfortable,' 
 replied Gore, still further mystified. His perplexity was 
 soon cleared up. 
 
 ' How is this, Gore ? ' asked Mr. Black as he came up. 
 1 Have you had permission to be out this afternoon ? ' 
 
 'No, sir,' he replied. ' I didn't know it was necessary 
 to obtain any.' 
 
 'Are you then under the impression that you can
 
 THE NEW BOY. 47 
 
 come out for a walk whenever you like 1 ' inquired 
 Mr. Black. 
 
 ' I'm afraid I didn't think much about it, sir ; I saw 
 some of the other boys going out into the village after 
 school, and so I thought that I might go too.' 
 
 Mr. Black looked at him rather severely for a moment, 
 as if doubtful whether to take his expression of ignorance 
 as indicating the complete truth, but apparently he was 
 satisfied with his scrutiny. 
 
 * Some one ought to have told you,' he said, in a kinder 
 tone. ' Of course you cannot be expected to know all the 
 rules the first day of your arrival, but ignorance is always 
 considered a very bad defence. No one is allowed to 
 come out into the village alone without first obtaining 
 leave, and that is never given unless his conduct during 
 the previous week has been in all respects satisfactory. 
 So you see that for a week at least you must confine 
 yourself to the precincts of the school, unless you choose 
 to ask special permission from the Doctor himself.' 
 
 ' I'm very sorry, sir,' said Gore ; ' but I can assure you 
 that it was quite a mistake on my part.' 
 
 ' I am quite ready to believe you,' said Mr. Black. ' I 
 am going back to the school now ; you had better return 
 with me.' 
 
 'Very well, sir,' said Gore. 
 
 'You have leave, of course, Mason,' said the master, 
 turning to the smaller boy. 
 
 ' Oh yes, sir,' he replied, grinning rather voluminously. 
 
 'All right; don't get into mischief now,' said Mr. 
 Black, as he and Gore turned towards the schoolhouse. 
 
 Gore was, however, very annoyed that Emerton had 
 not warned him that he would be transgressing the rules
 
 48 EXPELLED. 
 
 in going out without leave, and he determined that when 
 he got back he would speak to him about it. On the 
 other hand he appreciated, too, little Mason's kindness in 
 having done what he could to save him from a row. As 
 they passed through the gates he saw the Doctor at a front 
 window, but the latter, seeing him accompanied by a 
 master, of course took no notice of his return. 
 
 One of the first boys he met on reaching the playground 
 was Emerton. 
 
 ' Have you been down in the village ? ' he inquired. 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Gore. 
 
 ' Did you manage to find the shop 1 ' 
 
 ' I've not been as far as that.' 
 
 ' Oh, how was that ? ' 
 
 ' I met Mr. Black.' 
 
 ' You don't say so !' exclaimed Emerton. ' What did 
 he say 1 ' 
 
 Gore repeated briefly what Mr. Black had told him, 
 and left Emerton to explain. 
 
 ' I'm awfully sorry ! ' he began ; ' but I'd no idea that you 
 didn't know the rules about going out. I thought when 
 you said you would go down to the village after school, 
 that of course you had asked leave or were going to do so.' 
 
 'I didn't know anything about it,' returned Gore. 
 'How could I?' 
 
 ' Perhaps it was rather stupid of me,' assented Emerton. 
 ' I'm awfully sorry ! Don't bother any more about it ; 
 some other fellow will be sure to be going down, and if 
 you will hand me over the cash I'll get some one to bring 
 it up for you.' 
 
 ' That'll be the best way, I think,' said Gore. ' Let 
 me see; 2s. 8d., isn't it?'
 
 TIIE NEW BOY. 49 
 
 ' Yes, we make shift with those for practice.' 
 
 Gore handed over the money, leaving Emerton to 
 arrange for its expenditure. This he soon managed. 
 Spying Tom in a distant corner of the playground, he 
 Avent towards him, calling to Webb on his way ; Tom 
 saw them coming, but was too late to escape. 
 
 ' Well, what do you want now 1 ' queried that young 
 hero. 
 
 ' I'll tell you/ said Einerton ; ' you told me you were 
 going down to the village this afternoon.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know I did ; but I didn't know then that I 
 should get two hundred lines to-day, and have to stay in 
 and write them before I can go out.' 
 
 ' Why aren't you writing them now 1 ' asked Emerton, 
 with the tone and authority of a master. 
 
 ' Because I haven't got to give them in till to-morrow 
 afternoon,' replied Tom. ' Besides, it's no business of 
 yours.' 
 
 ' Come now, none of your cheek,' said Emerton. ' You 
 told me you were going down, and if you choose to go and 
 get a punishment in the meantime that's no fault of mine. 
 You've got to go down to the village this afternoon 
 whether you like it or no ; you mustn't go and tell me lies 
 in that way.' 
 
 ' It wasn't a lie ! ' retorted Tom angrily. ' I wanted to 
 go down badly enough.' 
 
 ' Well, you know how to do it anyhow,' returned 
 Emerton ; ' you've had plenty of practice you've been 
 down for me seven or eight times this term.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Tom ruefully, ' and I've been caught twice, 
 and if I get caught again I shall get caned as sure as 
 life.' 
 
 D
 
 50 
 
 EXPELLED. 
 
 'Well, that won't hurt me,' said Emerton, in a careless 
 tone. ' If you've only been caught twice out of seven, the 
 chances are two to seven that you won't be caught this 
 time. Look here here's 2s. 8d. ; you must go down to 
 Smith's and get me the ball. Catch hold.' 
 
 Tom did not hold out his hand, so Emerton seized it 
 and forced open his closed fist, pushing the money into it ; 
 he then turned away, leaving Tom to do what he pleased. 
 Poor fellow ! he was in a hole ; he knew well enough 
 that if he refused to accept the commission a more than 
 usually severe licking was in store for him, but he had 
 manfully determined that he would not again risk break- 
 ing bounds. In a puzzled state of mind he walked across 
 the playground, thinking that he would go indoors and 
 get on with his punishment as fast as possible so as to 
 be free to go down to town the next day, hoping that 
 Emerton would accept this compromise.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TUB ' CHEQUERS.' 
 
 GORE'S unexpected 
 appearance on the 
 scene had made 
 Emerton somewhat 
 afraid that he would 
 not 'pull off' the 
 scholarship with the 
 ease he had antici- 
 pated. He therefore 
 took measures to 
 ensure his success. 
 
 During the pre- 
 vious week he had 
 persuaded Webb, 
 with whom he had 
 struck up a very 
 warm friendship, to 
 do him a great service. As has been before mentioned,
 
 52 EXPELLED. 
 
 "\Vebb had a brother at Harrow, and Emerton concluded 
 that at Harrow, as at most large- schools, ' cribs ' were far 
 from being unknown. Judging that Webb's brother 
 would be very much of the same stamp as Webb himself, 
 he concluded that if any ' cribs ' were in use he would be 
 sure to possess one. He had accordingly persuaded his 
 prot6g6 to write to his brother to lend him for a few 
 weeks a ' crib ' of Horace, the third book of which was 
 one of the subjects of the coming exam. 
 
 ' I scarcely like to ask him,' said Webb. ' I don't 
 know if he has ever done Horace, for one thing ; he was 
 in Cicero last half.' 
 
 ' Well, if he hasn't one himself he can easily borrow 
 one if he likes, I suppose?' returned Emerton. 'Any- 
 how you must try ; I've done you some uncommonly good 
 turns, you know.' 
 
 ' Yes, you have,' assented Webb. ' But if this business 
 is found out I shall get into a jolly row ; in fact, I expect 
 the Doctor would expel me.' 
 
 ' What if he does ? ' replied Emerton ; ' you would only 
 be sent to Harrow a few months earlier.' 
 
 ' Yes ; that's all very well for you, but I don't want to 
 risk it.' 
 
 'But you won't risk anything,' said Emerton per- 
 suasively. ' We won't have the book sent to the school, 
 but to some one down in the village, and then we can 
 fetch it, and no one will know anything about it.' 
 
 After a little more persuasion Webb consented, and he 
 wrote to his brother accordingly. He had asked him, in 
 accordance with Emerton's advice, to send the book to 
 the 'Chequers Inn,' addressed to him c/o William Stokes. 
 William Stokes, more commonly known as Billy, had
 
 THE ' CHEQUERS.' 53 
 
 been till recently in the employ of Dr. Russell. He was 
 the lad who cleaned the boots and knives, and did odd 
 jobs about the school, but in consequence of misconduct 
 had been summarily dismissed. 
 
 Emerton, however, was too careful to fetch the book 
 himself, and Webb refused to do so in spite of all per- 
 suasions. So another messenger had to be found. 
 Emerton recollected that Tom had not yet fetched the ball 
 for which he had given him the money. He shouted to 
 him to approach. 
 
 ' When arc you going to fetch that ball for me 1 ' he 
 asked. 
 
 'I can go to-day,' said Tom. 'I've got leave.' 
 
 ' Do you mind getting a book for mo as well 1 ' asked 
 Emerton. 
 
 ' All right,' replied Tom, thankful that Emerton did 
 not ' lick ' him for postponing his visit to the ironmonger's 
 so long. 
 
 ' I'll tell you what I want you to do ; I can't go and do 
 it myself, as I've promised to go in quite another direction. 
 You know the " Chequers " ?' 
 
 ' You don't want me to go there 1 ' asked Tom anxiously. 
 
 ' What are you flaring up about now 1 I don't want 
 you to go in there and get anything to drink.' 
 
 ' Well, but you know we aren't allowed to go into 
 public-houses at all,' said Tom. 
 
 ' Oh, nonsense ! Of course I know the rule, but that 
 means we must not go in there and get beer or anything 
 of that sort. All I want you to do is to go in and ask 
 for a book which belongs to Webb. You know Billy 
 well enough 1 ' 
 
 'Yes, I know him,' said Tom ruefully, seeing that he
 
 54 EXPELLED. 
 
 was in a hole ; ' but when I promised to fetch you a book, 
 I never thought you meant to get it from there.' 
 
 'I can't help what you thought; you've promised, and 
 you'll have to keep to it now. You show this slip of 
 paper to Billy, and he will give you the book ; bring it up 
 to me, but don't let any fellow see you do it. You won't 
 get caught ; don't be afraid ; nobody is ever near that part 
 of the village. Besides, you can see them coming all 
 down the High Street if there's any one about.' 
 
 Tom took the slip of paper, but didn't promise to carry 
 out Emerton's wishes. However, on thinking it over, 
 he decided that he must run the risk. He had given his 
 promise, and Tom never liked breaking his word. 
 
 Emerton and Webb had arranged some time previously 
 to make an excursion together that same afternoon to 
 Hartwell Spinney. This was a good way off ; they would 
 only just have time to get there and come back within 
 the allotted hour and a half. When afternoon came, 
 Tom, much against his will, set out for the village. The 
 few boys who were free that afternoon all went along the 
 cliffs, with the exception of Emerton and Webb, who 
 struck off inland; Gore did not seem inclined to take 
 advantage of his liberty ; so Tom thought that not only 
 would no master see him, but there was no risk of even 
 any of his companions coming across his path. 
 
 He entered the 'Chequers' door, after giving a careful 
 look round, and five minutes afterwards he emerged 
 therefrom with the book under his arm, looking very 
 crestfallen. He hadn't gone many yards before a hand 
 fell on his shoulder. 
 
 He started round in a fright, and almost dropped the 
 book.
 
 THE ' CHEQUERS.' 
 
 55 
 
 ' Oh, Gore, is it you ? I'm so glad ! I thought it was 
 Mr. Black.' 
 
 ' Why should you think it was Mr. Black 1 ' asked Gore 
 cheerily. 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Tom. 
 
 ' Well, I do,' remarked Gore. ' I know where you've 
 been.'
 
 56 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' Oh, do you ? ' said Tom rather piteously. ' Don't tell.' 
 
 ' Tell ! ' exclaimed Gore ; ' what on earth should I 
 tell for 1 You don't think I'm a sneak, do you?' 
 
 ' Oh no ! I'm sure you aren't,' said Tom effusively. 
 
 ' Well, look here,' said Gore, putting his arm in tho 
 youngster's. ' All the same, I should like to know why 
 you went in there.' 
 
 ' I didn't want to go there at all.' 
 
 ' Then why on earth did you 1 ' asked Gore. ' When 
 it comes to going into public-houses, it looks very bad, 
 especially for such a youngster as you are. Now, what's 
 it all about? Tell me.' 
 
 ' I went in to get a book,' he replied. 
 
 ' A book ! ' exclaimed Gore ; ' that's a rum sort of place 
 to go to in search of literature, certainly.' 
 
 ' It wasn't a book for me,' exclaimed Tom ; ' it was for 
 Webb ; it was a book he had had sent him.' 
 
 ' I see. So Webb made you go in there ? Why didn't 
 you tell him to go himself ? ' 
 
 ' But it wasn't Webb made me go,' said Tom, wondering 
 how he could keep Emerton's name out of the transaction. 
 
 ' Well, never mind,' said Gore kindly. ' You've done 
 a very stupid thing, and you'd better make your mind up 
 never to do it again.' But Tom continued his confession, 
 and the worst part of his tale soon came out. 
 
 'They made me pay Is. 6d. for carriage/ he said. ' Do 
 you think that was fair 1 ' 
 
 ' One and sixpence,' exclaimed Gore, 'for a little book 
 like that ! Why, of course, it was not ! Who's cheated 
 you like that ? ' 
 
 ' Billy,' was the rsply. 
 
 ' And who's Billy 1 '
 
 THE ' CHEQUERS.' 
 
 57 
 
 Tom explained the antecedents of Mr. William Stokes. 
 'He told me the carriage was Is. 6d.,' said Tom, 'and 
 when I told him that I was sure it wasn't, he said, very 
 well, I needn't take it, and that he'd let my father know 
 
 I'd been into the " Chequers " talking to him ; so he made 
 me give him Is. 6d. so that he might not sneak about me.' 
 
 ' What a young rascal it is ! ' exclaimed Gore angrily. 
 
 ' What can I do T asked Tom. 
 
 ' You can't do much,' was Gore's reply, 'but perhaps I 
 can work the oracle for you.'
 
 58 EXPELLED. 
 
 He was thoroughly angry at the trick played on his 
 young companion. He walked back to the 'Chequers,' 
 entered the door, and found a lad whom he at once 
 recognised, from the description given, as Billy, standing 
 alone behind the bar. 
 
 ' Are you Billy ? ' he inquired. 
 
 ' Yes, I am,' was the surly reply. 
 
 ' Then I want that money that Tom Eussell gave you 
 just now.' 
 
 ' Oh ! anything else ? ' replied Billy, with a wink that 
 was meant to be confidential. 
 
 ' Yes, there is something else,' said Gore. ' If you don't 
 let me have it, I shall go straight to your master and see 
 what he says about it.' 
 
 This threat seemed rather to frighten Billy, and he 
 muttered something about its being a present from Master 
 Tom, and he didn't mean any harm by taking it. 
 
 ' That's enough/ said Gore shortly. ' Hand over a 
 shilling, you can keep the sixpence for the carriage, 
 although I believe it was carriage paid.' 
 
 It was, but Gore hadn't noticed it, and Billy didn't 
 choose to enlighten him on this point. He handed over 
 the shilling, and Gore speedily left the neighbourhood 
 of the ' Chequers.' 
 
 ' There you are, youngster,' he said to Tom, as he 
 rejoined him, 'and mind you take proper care of your 
 money in future.' 
 
 ' Oh, Gore, you are a brick ! ' Tom exclaimed, his face 
 brightening up as he grasped the money. ' However did 
 you get it out of him ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I didn't have much trouble. He saw I meant 
 business, and wasn't going to stand any nonsense.'
 
 THE ' CHEQUERS.' 59 
 
 ' And you'll promise,' said Tom, c that you'll never say 
 a word about it to any one ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I can easily promise that,' said Gore ; ' for, 
 now I come to think of it, we are both in the same 
 boat ; if you've been into the " Chequers," so have I.' 
 
 ' Billy isn't likely to tell of us, I suppose 1 ' said Tom, 
 as the thought of that contingency crossed his mind. 
 
 ' Oh no ; he knows better than that, I expect.' 
 
 ' I don't believe father would take his word if he did,' 
 said Tom. ' Father thinks he's a thief, I know, and he 
 used to tell awful lies when he was up at our place.' 
 
 ' Well, then, we are safe enough,' replied Gore laugh- 
 ingly, ' so don't think any more about it.' 
 
 Meanwhile Webb and Emerton had been very 
 differently employed. Striking straight across country 
 for the distant Spinney, they had had a rattling run. 
 The object of their expedition was to negotiate for some 
 apples at a farmhouse situated near the Spinney. It was 
 only occasionally that they attempted so long an excursion, 
 but for some time past they had felt a yearning desire to 
 taste again the luscious ' stubbards ' with which Farmer 
 Brown's orchard was so well stocked. 
 
 ' It's blazing hot,' said Webb, as he made the best of 
 his way along about two yards in the rear of Emerton. 
 
 ' We shan't have time to eat many apples.' 
 
 'We can fill our pockets instead.' 
 
 In less than three-quarters of an hour they reached the 
 edge of the Spinney, so that they had five minutes to 
 spare before they need commence the return journey. 
 
 ' Now, look out,' said Emerton. ' Here's the orchard. 
 We must mind what we're about.' 
 
 ' Are you going over ? ' asked Webb.
 
 GO EXPELLKD. 
 
 ' Yes. We haven't time, after all, to go the farmhouse 
 to get any milk.' 
 
 ' Oh, I see,' said Webb, with a giggle. ' You aren't going 
 to buy the apples this time ? ' 
 
 1 Well, no,' said Emerton. ' We haven't time, for one 
 thing, and if we had, I don't see the need of buying 
 them ; what difference can a dozen make to a man who's 
 got an orchard like this ? ' 
 
 ' All right ! over you go,' said Webb. ' I'll keep cavo 
 this time it's my turn.' 
 
 ' Oh, bosh ! ' returned Emerton ; ' let's both go ; we shall 
 get twice as many.' 
 
 ' Well, I'm game,' agreed Webb. 
 
 A careful inspection showed that the coast was clear. 
 
 ' Now then, fill your pockets as fast as you can,' cried 
 Emerton, setting tho example by jumping down into the 
 orchard, and running to the nearest tree. In less than 
 a minute they had crammed all the available receptacles 
 about them with fine apples. 
 
 ' I can't hold any more,' said Webb. ' We'd better make 
 tracks.' 
 
 1 All right. Up you get ; I'll follow in half a 
 second.' 
 
 Webb ran for an opening in the hedge and speedily 
 climbed to the top ; Emerton was over almost as soon, 
 and they were on the point of leaping into the road when 
 they heard a gig coming. 
 
 ' Look out ! ' said Webb, jumping back into the 
 orchard; 'somebody's coming.' Emerton was equally 
 quick. They crouched down behind the hedge and 
 heard the gig pass by. They were so intent upon 
 keeping themselves out of sight of the road that they
 
 THE EDGE OF THE SPINNEY. 
 61
 
 62 EXPELLED. 
 
 had not noticed that the gate at the bottom of the 
 orchard had opened and that Farmer Brown had 
 entered it. 
 
 ' Now then, over you go ! ' said Emerton. ' Look 
 sharp ! ' At the same moment he turned to see that the 
 coast was clear, and caught sight of the advancing 
 farmer. 
 
 ' Hi, you there ! ' shouted Mr. Brown ; ' what are you 
 doing in my orchard ? ' 
 
 Their only reply was to jump as quickly as possible 
 into the road, and run at the top of their speed towards 
 home. However, their progress was not so fast as before, 
 for they were weighted by the awkward load they had to 
 carry. Mr. Brown knew the bearings of the country 
 better than they did, and, making no effort to follow 
 them, ran across the orchard and through a field past 
 which the road ran, thus cutting off a very large 
 corner, arriving at the gate of the field just as the boys 
 came in sight. 
 
 ' Look out ! ' shouted "Webb ; ' there he is ! ' They 
 stopped for a moment, and then began to run back in 
 the opposite direction. The farmer, however, had sent 
 a man round to follow them, so that they might be caught 
 in a trap. The boys had not run many yards before 
 they saw a labourer standing in the middle of the road 
 evidently ready to receive them. 
 
 ' By Jove ! we're in for it now ! ' shouted Emerton. 
 ' Come along ! ' He made a rush at the hedge on the 
 opposite side of the road to that on which the orchard 
 was situated, and, clambering to the top with some 
 amount of damage to his hands and knees, stretched 
 out his hand to help his companion over.
 
 THE ' CHEQUERS.' 63 
 
 ' He's close to us,' said Webb, in a frightened voice. 
 Indeed the labourer was not more than thirty yards off. 
 
 ' We're safe enough,' returned Emerton ; ' he can't 
 catch us up now.' A sudden thought struck him as 
 he was leaping down from the top of the hedge into the 
 field ; he called out at the top of his voice, ' Come along, 
 Gore ! ' Webb followed, and ran after him as fast as he 
 could. Fear lent them wings, and in a few minutes 
 they were safely out of reach of their pursuers. ' We're 
 all right now,' said Emerton, panting. 'We shall get 
 home in time, I think, after all.' 
 
 'I hope so,' Webb replied; he had thrown himself 
 down at full length to recover his breath. ' But what on 
 earth made you call out " Gore " for?' 
 
 ' Did 1 1 ' asked Emerton innocently. ' I suppose it was 
 in the excitement of the moment.' 
 
 ' I suppose so,' said Webb. ' Shall we go on now ? ' 
 
 ' If you're ready,' was the reply, ' I am.' 
 
 ' Come along, then.' 
 
 As they reached the great gates, they heard the bell 
 ringing for tea. ' Just in time,' said Emerton ; ' that's 
 lucky.'
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GORE IN TROUBLE. 
 
 NEXT day, after afternoon 
 school, Gore was somewhat 
 surprised by a message from 
 the Doctor that he wished to 
 see him in his private room. 
 John was the bearer of this 
 message. 
 
 'Do you know what it is 
 for 1 ' Gore asked. 
 
 ' No, Master Gore, I don't, 
 but he's looking very black.' 
 'If'm! I wonder what it's about,' thought Gore. 'I 
 
 64
 
 GORE IN TROUBLE. 65 
 
 hope to goodness he hasn't heard anything about my going 
 into the " Chequers " yesterday ; I don't very well see 
 how he could, though.' 
 
 It was with a very uneasy conscience that he found 
 himself in the presence of the Doctor. 
 
 ' I am very sorry, Gore,' began Dr. Russell, ' to have 
 to make a very serious charge against you. Can you 
 guess what it is 1 ' 
 
 This was a question Avhich Gore did not feel himself 
 called upon to answer. 
 
 ' I have received a letter,' continued the Doctor ; ' it is 
 from Mr. Brown. You know who he is, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir, I have never heard of him,' was the reply. 
 
 ' He is a farmer,' resumed the Doctor, ' who lives near 
 Hartwell Spinney. He writes to inform me that yester- 
 day afternoon some boys robbed his orchard, and he has 
 good reason for believing that they belonged to this 
 school.' 
 
 The good reason for his belief was that the boys 
 generally wore their cricketing caps when wandering 
 about the village, and the cap was well known by the 
 inhabitants around. 
 
 4 What have you to say about it 1 ' inquired the Doctor. 
 
 ' Nothing at all, sir,' said Gore. ' I know nothing what- 
 ever of Mr. Brown, and I've never been near Hartwell 
 Spinney in my life.' 
 
 The Doctor looked very angry. ' Be careful what you are 
 saying, sir,' he said severely. ' Mr. Brown most distinctly 
 states in his letter that the name of one of the robbers 
 was Gore ; his man and he himself both heard that name 
 called out by one of the boys as he was clambering over 
 the hedge.' 
 
 E
 
 66 EXPELLED. 
 
 This statement took Gore completely by surprise. 
 
 ' What have you to say ? ' again repeated the Doctor. 
 
 ' Nothing but what I said before,' answered Gore ; ' I 
 was never near the place.' 
 
 The Doctor looked incredulous. ' Very well,' he said ; 
 ' of course if you were not there it will be very easy to 
 prove it. Did you go out yesterday afternoon ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' replied Gore. 
 
 ' Where did you go ? ' 
 
 ' Down in the village, sir.' 
 
 ' Were you in the village the whole of the time 1 ' 
 
 1 No, sir ; I was down on the beach part of the time.' 
 
 ' Then of course some of the boys must have seen you 
 if you were on the beach, for I know that several of them 
 went down there. Whom did you see ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't meet any one, sir ; I went towards the Coast- 
 guard, and I think the other boys went towards the 
 bathing cove.' 
 
 ' All this may be true, or it may be untrue,' continued the 
 Doctor. ' As it at present stands, Mr. Brown distinctly 
 states that you were at his orchard. You say you were 
 on the beach, but can find no one who saw you there. 
 The only way of clearing yourself will be for you to state 
 in detail how you spent the whole of your time yesterday 
 afternoon, between leaving the house and returning to it.' 
 
 This staggered Gore ; it flashed across his mind in a 
 moment that in order to do that he must confess his visit 
 to the ' Chequers ; ' he remembered that he had given 
 Tom a distinct promise that he would never say a word 
 about that most unfortunate occurrence, and if he did 
 confess it he knew that his situation would be by no 
 means improved. In a moment his mind was made up.
 
 GORE IN TROUBLE. 67 
 
 ' All I can tell you, sir, is that I did not go to the 
 Spinney yesterday afternoon ; that I have never been 
 there in my life ; and that there must be some mistake on 
 Mr. Brown's part.' 
 
 ' Come, come,' said the Doctor rather angrily ; ' this is 
 all beside the question. I asked you where you had been ; 
 I don't want to know where you have not been.' 
 
 Gore did not make any reply. 
 
 ' Where were you 1 ' again demanded the Doctor. 
 
 ' I cannot tell you, sir.' 
 
 ' But this is absurd ! ' broke out the Doctor. ' Do you 
 expect me to believe that you were not at the Spinney, 
 whilst you refuse to tell me where you were ? ' 
 
 ' I'm very sorry, sir,' said Gore, ' but it is the truth.' 
 
 'Oh, pooh, pooh ! ' rejoined the Doctor. 'Do you ex- 
 pect me to take your bare word for it against the distinct 
 evidence of two men 1 ' 
 
 To this Gore had no reply to make. The Doctor rose 
 from his seat and walked up and down the room. 
 
 ' I must say, Gore, you surprise and grieve me very 
 much. You have told me untruths.' 
 
 ' I have not, sir,' broke in Gore. 
 
 ' Don't interrupt me, sir,' said the Doctor. ' I have 
 given you every opportunity of proving the truth of your 
 assertions, and you have declined to take advantage of 
 them. I have no alternative left me but to disbelieve 
 you. If I were to do my duty I should refuse to let 
 you remain longer at Eastcote, but that is a course that I 
 am very loth to take. Go back to the schoolroom now, 
 and this evening I Avill tell you what punishment I shall 
 inflict on you for this dastardly conduct.' 
 
 Now that the Doctor had spoken, the main feeling in
 
 G8 EXPELLED. 
 
 Gore's mind was one 
 of resentment. It 
 was intolerable 
 that such an injus- 
 tice should be done 
 him. He did not 
 mind what punish- 
 ment might be given 
 him that was a 
 mere trifle. The 
 galling part of it 
 was, that he had 
 entirely lost the con- 
 fidence of the Doctor, 
 whilst he was quite 
 innocentof the charge 
 that had been made 
 against him. It was 
 an utter puzzle to 
 him to think how 
 his name could have 
 been mixed up in the 
 affair. He returned 
 to the schoolroom, 
 feeling more dejected 
 and unhappy than 
 he had been since he 
 first entered the gates 
 of Eastcote. 
 
 There was nothing 
 for it but to wait 
 with what amount of resignation he could till the evening,
 
 GORE IN TROUBLE. 69 
 
 when he would know the punishment the Doctor intended 
 to mete out to him. 
 
 After all, this did not prove to be so severe as he had 
 feared. The Doctor informed him that he would be confined 
 to the school premises for a week, and that he was to 
 write out six hundred lines. 
 
 ' Well, that's over,' thought Gore when he was in bed. 
 ' It's not so bad after all. I must manage to do these lines 
 without the fellows finding out that I've got into a row, 
 or else they'll want to know what it is for. I wonder 
 whether it was any of our fellows Avho stole those apples ; 
 if so, I must find him out, and if he won't confess it, I 
 don't know whether I shan't confess it for him. I don't 
 see why I should get into the Doctor's black books for the 
 rest of my life here, when I have done nothing to deserve 
 it,' 
 
 It struck him, as he lay thinking over the day's events, 
 that he might have said that Tom was with him on the 
 beach ; but Tom's dread of his father was so great, that, 
 were he to undergo a cross-examination, it would probably 
 implicate both of them. Besides, Gore had no idea of the 
 position of the Spinney, and, for all he knew, the fact 
 that he was on the beach part of the time would by no 
 means prove that he was not in the orchard previously. 
 
 Still puzzling his mind over it, he fell asleep. 
 
 ' Single misfortunes never come alone,' says Sir Boyle 
 Koche ; ' and the greatest of all possible misfortunes is 
 invariably succeeded by a still greater.' 
 
 Gore had quite set his mind on winning the scholar- 
 ship at the approaching exam., and recently had felt 
 that his chances of doing so were becoming brighter 
 and brighter. But on the morning succeeding the inter-
 
 70 EXPELLED. 
 
 view related in the last chapter, he found to his surprise 
 that when the Doctor took the first class in classics, in 
 spite of all his efforts he was easily distanced in his 
 translation of Horace by Emerton. At first he put it 
 down to the Doctor's unintentional preference for Emerton's 
 translation, having in view the fact that he (Gore) was in 
 disgrace ; hut he was soon obliged to acknowledge that 
 Emerton had made marvellous strides in construing since 
 the previous day. 
 
 ' That is very good, Emerton,' said the Doctor, as 
 Emerton came safely through a very crabbed passage. ' I 
 was quite expecting that you would come to grief over 
 that irregidar verb which Horace has used there in an 
 almost unique sense.' 
 
 ' Yon take the next passage, Gore.' 
 
 Gore began his translation, but felt that ho was not 
 doing as well as usual. During the previous evening's 
 preparation, his mind had been distracted by thinking 
 over the afternoon's events, and he was aware that he was 
 not doing himself, or his author, justice. 
 
 ' That is not the gerund,' exclaimed the Doctor sharply, 
 as Gore went on with his translation. ' The slightest caro 
 would have shown you that. What do you make of it, 
 Emerton?' 
 
 Emerton with the greatest of ease translated the passage, 
 and of course obtained precedence of Gore. This went on 
 during the whole lesson, as much to Gore's surprise as his 
 disgust. 
 
 When school was over, he took an opportunity of meet- 
 ing Emerton, and strolled with him round the playground, 
 neglecting for the time those six hundred lines which were 
 han^in" as a millstone round his neck.
 
 GORE IN TROUBLE. 71 
 
 ' What's the row with you ?' asked Emerton. 'It seems 
 to me the Doctor was down upon you this morning.' 
 
 'Yes; I believe I've got into his blackbooks,' returned Gore. 
 
 'What's that about?' 
 
 'Oh, never mind!' said Gore; 'some trifle or other. 
 Something I said to him last night, I think.' 
 
 ' It has put you off the mark, at any rate ; at least I 
 fancied you didn't do so well to-day as you generally do. 
 I'd got quite resigned to seeing you ahead of me.' 
 
 ' Well, it struck me that you were doing a great deal 
 better than usual.' 
 
 'Yes,' rejoined Emerton. 'I've been too lazy up till now.' 
 
 'Have you ever been in to any exam, before?' asked Gore. 
 
 'Not many; the only one I ever did was the Junior 
 Cambridge, at my last school.' 
 
 ' We had a lot at the school I was at,' said Gore ; ' I 
 won two or three, but I got beaten once.' 
 
 ' Oh !' said Emerton, in a nonchalant tone. 
 
 'Yes,' said Gore rather meaningly; 'but I got the 
 prize all the same.' 
 
 'That was rum,' returned Emerton; 'how did it happen?' 
 
 ' Well, we had a peculiar understanding at our school,' 
 continued Gore. ' Eellows used to use cribs, you know ; 
 but then we had a clear understanding that, if a fellow 
 used a crib, he was not to try and pull off a prize. He 
 might use it to save himself from getting into a row for 
 neglecting his work, so long as he did no harm to any one 
 else; but if he used it when working up for any exam., 
 that was quite another thing.' 
 
 'Oh!' said Emerton; ' that's a very good sort of under- 
 standing.' 
 
 'Yes, I think so too,' continued Gore. 'I found out
 
 72 
 
 EXPELLED. 
 
 that this fellow Avho had beaten me had not only used a 
 crib when working up, but had taken it into the exam., 
 and had copied o\it some of his translations from it. 
 I spoke to the monitors about it, and asked their advice, 
 and they all agreed that that was a sort of thing that 
 
 could not be tolerated, so the/ sent for this chap and told 
 him he'd better resign, and that if he didn't they'd take 
 the matter into their hands and report him.' 
 
 ' And did he resign *? ' inquired Emerton. 
 
 ' Yes ; he had nothing else to do.' 
 
 ' Well,' was Emcrton's next remark, ' all I can say is,
 
 GORE IN TROUBLE. 73 
 
 that if you let him use a crib all the time he was working 
 up for the exam., it was rather a sneaking thing to do to 
 report him for it afterwards.' 
 
 ' It was a good deal more sneaking to try to win the prize by 
 cheating, than to report the fellow afterwards for doing it.' 
 
 ' That may be your opinion,' said Emerton, ' but it 
 isn't mine.' 
 
 Gore had told this incident with a purpose. He had 
 come to the distinct conclusion, from the way in which 
 Emerton had done his translation that morning, that he 
 had been using a ' crib.' He could not, of course, accuse 
 him of possessing a ' crib,' because he did not know for 
 certain that he had one; but he wanted a clear under- 
 standing with Emerton, that if he did use one, and it were 
 discovered that he had done so, he (Gore) would have no 
 scruple in exposing him. 
 
 ' I suppose you've never used a crib ?' queried Emerton. 
 
 ' No,' was the reply. ' I don't think it's fair.' 
 
 1 Some fellows are so confoundedly particular,' said 
 Emerton, in a careless tone. 
 
 ' Yes, and, on the other hand, some fellows aren't half 
 particular enough,' retorted Gore. 
 
 ' Do you mean that for me 1 ' asked Emerton angrily. 
 
 4 If the cap fits, wear it,' was the cool reply. 
 
 ' Let me give you a word of advice : just mind your 
 own business, and don't trouble yourself about anything 
 else,' said Emerton. 
 
 ' I'll take your advice,' said Gore, turning away. ' You'd 
 better remember that I do mean to mind my own business, 
 and that this exam, is distinctly my business.' 
 
 ' Oh, go to ,' exclaimed Emerton, walking off in 
 
 the opposite direction without finishing his sentence.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A VISIT TO THE SPINNEY". 
 
 GORE never found imprison- 
 ment so intolerable as during 
 the succeeding week. He early 
 determined that he would pay 
 a visit to Mr. Brown at the 
 Spinney, and try and clear up 
 the mystery. But now he had 
 his six hundred lines to write, 
 and in addition to this he was 
 anxious to give every spare 
 moment to working up for his 
 exam. He asked Mason at an 
 early opportunity about the 
 Spinney, and elicited from him 
 that it was not an uncommon 
 thing in the autumn for boys 
 to make expeditions there when 
 time allowed, and to purchase 
 apples and milk at the farm- 
 house, but that as far as he, Mason, was aware, no one 
 had been there during this term. 
 
 'I only wish I could go,' said Mason; 'but it takes 
 such a tremendous time that except on half-holidays one 
 
 7t
 
 A VISIT TO THE SPINNEY. 75 
 
 isn't able to get back before the bell rings, and on half 
 holidays they've always got some wretched match or other 
 on which you've got to play ; but I'll try to go over with 
 you some day this week if you like. Suppose we go 
 on Thursday.' 
 
 ' No, I can't go this week,' replied Gore, ' I've got so 
 much to do.' 
 
 ' This blessed exam., I suppose 1 ' 
 
 'Yes; partly,' answered Gore, not wishing to confess 
 that he had a punishment on hand. 
 
 But he found that he was not able to keep the fact of 
 his having lines to write so secret as he wished. Boys 
 have not that delicacy of feeling which grown-up people 
 possess, and Phillips did not think he was committing 
 any breach of ordinary manners in looking ovel 
 Gore's shoulder one day as he was busy writing out 
 his lines. 
 
 ' Hallo, Gore ! ' he exclaimed ; ' you don't mean to say 
 you're in. for it ? ' 
 
 ' AVhy not ? ' said Gore carelessly, as if it was the most 
 ordinary thing in the world for him to be writing moral 
 sentences. 
 
 ' Why, what have you been up to ? ' inquired Phillips. 
 ' I've never heard anything about it. Have you been 
 breaking bounds again 1 ' 
 
 ' No,' replied Gore ; ' I didn't know that you'd heard 
 of that little joke.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I have , but what is it for 1 ' he persisted. 
 
 ' Oh, never you mind ; you haven't got to write them 
 out, have you ? ' 
 
 ' No, thank goodness ! I've had about enough of 
 "Disorderly conduct meets with its due reward," and
 
 76 EXPELLED. 
 
 "Deference to his superiors is the duty of every 
 individual." ' 
 
 Gore knew it was of no use to tell Phillips not to 
 mention it to any one, so he continued writing without 
 saying anything more ; and in a few minutes Phillips had 
 informed half the school that Gore was in for some jolly 
 row. Most of the boys were rather glad to find that the 
 immaculate Gore was after all one of themselves, and 
 perhaps Mason and Tom were the only two Avho were 
 really sorry. Tom crept up to him as soon as he was 
 alone, and in a frightened whisper asked him if it was 
 about going into the 'Chequers.' 'Because, if so,' said Tom, 
 ' it wasn't your fault at all, you know ; it was all mine, 
 and it isn't fair that you should get into a row for it.' 
 
 ' Oh, nonsense ! ' replied Gore ; ' you needn't fret about 
 that, my boy. It's nothing whatever to do with going 
 into the " Chequers." ' 
 
 ' That's all right,' said Tom, his mind being relieved on 
 that point ; ' but what is it for ] ' 
 
 ' Don't you bother about me,' said Gore. ' I shall knock 
 this off by to-morrow ; and then next week we will go to 
 Hartwell Spinney if you like. Mason's going with me, 
 and we will get some apples.' 
 
 ' Thanks,' said Tom, with effusion ; ' I'll come like a 
 bird.' 
 
 Before long it came to Emerton's ears that Gore was in 
 trouble. He had heard nothing at all about Mr. Brown's 
 letter, and had concluded that the little episode was 
 entirely over. It struck him now that there was a possi- 
 bility that his ruse had succeeded, and that the blame 
 which would otherwise have fallen upon his shoulders had 
 fallen upon Gore's.
 
 A VISIT TO THE SPINNEY. 77 
 
 Meanwhile Emerton steadily continued ahead of Gore 
 in classics. In spite of all his efforts Gore was unable to 
 make certain that his opponent made use of a ' crib.' In 
 mathematics he did not fear him ; but at Eastcote, as at 
 many schools, classics took precedence of every other 
 study in the approaching exam. Strange to say, Gore 
 did not at all connect the fact of Tom's visit to the 
 ' Chequers ' for the book Avith the fact that Emerton 
 probably possessed a crib; Tom had never mentioned 
 Emerton's name in connection with that visit, and conse- 
 quently Gore thought nothing further about it. 
 
 Directly the week was over Gore went to the Doctor 
 and asked permission to extend his next visit to the 
 village by half an hour. The permission was granted, 
 though not very graciously, for the Doctor could not forget 
 that Gore had deceived him. Mason and Tom obtained 
 similar permission, and the three boys set out on tho 
 Monday afternoon for Hartwell Spinney. The small boys 
 led the way, for this was the first time that Gore had 
 gone in that direction. 
 
 ' Look here, you two,' he said, when they came in sight 
 of the farm ; ' here's a bob between you ; go and get as 
 many apples as you can for it, and have a good drink of 
 milk. I want to speak to Mr. Brown whilst you are in 
 there. I'll meet you round by the road in ten minutes.' 
 
 The youngsters raced off, knowing very well where to go 
 to obtain the desired luxuries, whilst Gore made his way 
 towards a barn, at the door of which he saw the farmer 
 standing. 
 
 ' You are Mr. Brown, aren't you ] ' he said. 
 
 ' Yes, young gentleman, I am. What may you want 
 with me ?'
 
 78 
 
 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' You wrote to Dr. Russell the other day, complaining 
 that some boys from, our school had been robbing your 
 orchard.' 
 
 ' Yes, the young rascals, I did.' 
 
 'You said that the name of one of the boys was Gore. 
 I am Gore, and I want to know why you thought that it 
 was I who took part in it.'
 
 A VISIT TO THE SPINNEY. 79 
 
 'Why, because one of them called out your name,' 
 replied Mr. Brown. 
 
 ' Did you hear him call out ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, and so did my man, Meadows, who was nearest 
 to them.' 
 
 ' Where's Meadows?' asked Gore; ' I should like to see 
 him.' 
 
 ' Oh, he's gone harvesting over at Farmer Fletcher's, 
 and won't be back here for three weeks or more.' 
 
 This was a great nuisance ; Gore did not know quite 
 what was the next step to take. 
 
 ' Look here,' continued Gore; ' you saw both of the boys 
 who were in your orchard. Do you think that either of 
 Uiem was me 1 ' 
 
 'Can't tell, I'm sure; one of them was about your height.' 
 
 ' I suppose I must wait till Meadows comes back from 
 harvesting,' he added. 
 
 ' Oh, I shouldn't think anything more about it,' said 
 the farmer. ' Here, come into the house and have a drink 
 of milk, and you can go into the orchard and fill your 
 pockets, for all I care.' 
 
 Gore did not decline his offer, and followed him into the 
 dairy, where he found his two companions still regaling 
 themselves, although they had had enough already to 
 make it difficult to imagine where they were going to put 
 the apples. 
 
 After spending a very enjoyable five minutes in the 
 cool and airy room, they found it was time to be on the 
 move again; in fact, they only had twenty-five minutes in 
 which to make the journey home. 
 
 'Come,' said Gore, 'you'll have to put your best foot 
 foremost; we shall have to run part of the way.'
 
 80 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' All right,' said Mason, who felt like a giant refreshed 
 with wine ; ' I'm ready.' 
 
 ' Come along then,' said Gore, bidding good-bye to the 
 farmer. ' You've got your apples 1 ' 
 
 1 Oh yes,' said Tom, with a grin. 
 
 It was easy to see that he spoke the truth, for every 
 pocket was bulging out. 
 
 They went off at a smart trot down the road, but very 
 soon the two youngsters gave in. 
 
 ' Oh, I say,' said Mason, ' my wind's all gone. I can't 
 run another step.' 
 
 'But you must,' said Gore, 'unless you want to be late.' 
 
 ' I can't help it,' was the reply, as he sank in a heap 
 on the ground. ' I feel as if I couldn't move another yard 
 to save my life. I think I must have drunk a little too 
 much milk.' 
 
 ' I expect you have,' said Gore, with a laugh; 'how much 
 did you take ? ' 
 
 ' I only drank five glasses,' was the reply. 
 
 ' I should think that's about enough,' answered Gore. 
 ' But come along ; I don't want to be late, after having 
 asked special leave.' 
 
 By good fortune, at this moment a cart passed them, 
 which was driven by one of Farmer Brown's men, who 
 had seen them just before on the premises. He good- 
 naturedly offered them a lift, and they were willing 
 enough to accept it. The cart jolted fearfully, and both 
 Tom and Mason felt uncommonly uncomfortable about 
 the region of the stomach, Tom declaring that he felt sea- 
 sick. However, they reached home without being actually 
 ill after all, although their appetite for tea was considerably 
 diminished.
 
 A VISIT TO THE SPINNEY. 81 
 
 The apples and milk must have got into Mason's head, 
 for in the evening he had the effrontery to return a push 
 which Emerton gave him for Hocking his Avay in the 
 passage to the lavatory. However, he took to his heels 
 instantly, which might have been interpreted as an 
 expression of regret for having forgotten himself. 
 
 Til lick you for that, you young sweep,' called out 
 Emertou, not sorry to see that Gore was within 
 hearing. 
 
 Mason shouted back a derisive reply, wondering how 
 he could have the cheek to do it. He presumed, perhaps, 
 on the fact that bullying had been much less frequent 
 since Gore's arrival. Emerton had only exercised his 
 tyranny when he was out of Gore's sight. But on this 
 occasion he considered his honour was involved ; he had 
 said in Gore's presence that he would lick Mason, and it 
 would not do now for him to back out of it on any 
 pretence whatever. 
 
 ' Come here, you little sweep !' he called out, as he saw 
 Mason crossing the playground next day ; ' I've got a 
 word to say to you.' 
 
 Mason commenced to approach him, and then stopped. 
 ' All right, what is it ? ' 
 
 ' Come here, and I'll tell you.' 
 
 ' Tell me from where you are. I can hear all you've 
 got to say.' 
 
 Emerton's reply was to make a dash towards him, but 
 Mason was on the look-out, and ran as hard as he could 
 pelt towards the schoolroom. Gore was sitting there, 
 working up his Greek. He looked up as Mason shot 
 into the room. 
 
 'Hallo ! is there a mad dog after you?' he asked. 
 v
 
 82 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' Pretty near as bad,' panted Mason, as he sank into a 
 seat. At the same moment Emerton entered the room. 
 
 ' Oh, there you are, you young rascal ! I'll teach you 
 to give me such a chase as this.' He went up to him 
 and caught him by the arm. 
 
 ' You let me alone,' shouted Mason. ' I've done nothing 
 to you ' 
 
 'I'll let you go in a minute,' was the reply. 
 
 ' Here, what's the row ? ' asked Gore. 
 
 ' Emerton's going to lick me, because he pushed against 
 me in the passage,' explained Mason, cowering down out 
 of Emerton's reach as much as possible. 
 
 ' You'd better let him alone, I think,' said Gore to 
 Emerton. 
 
 ' Oh! anything else?' was the reply. c Are you going to 
 be the protector of all the small boys in the school 1 ' 
 
 ' I don't know about all the small boys,' answered Gore, 
 rising from his seat, ' but I am of this one at all events ; 
 he is my cousin.' 
 
 ' Oh, I see ! ' returned Emerton ; ' so, because he is 
 your cousin, he is to be allowed to do just as he likes, 
 I suppose.' 
 
 ' No,' said Gore, ' but because he's my cousin you can't 
 do what you like. Let him alone ! ' he added sharply. 
 
 Emerton dropped Mason's arm and walked over to 
 Gore. ' You'll fight, I suppose ? ' he said. 
 
 Gore hesitated for a moment, then sat down in his 
 place again. ' I supposed you were coming to that/ he 
 answered. ' No, I don't want to fight.' 
 
 ' Are you going to take a licking ? ' asked Emerton. 
 
 'Not exactly ; but I'm not going to fight, I think we'd 
 best leave that sort of thing to small boys ; but, if you're
 
 A VISIT TO THE SPINNEY. 83 
 
 so very anxious about it, you can easily get your desire 
 touch Mason again.' 
 
 Emerton grasped the situation, and determined to make 
 the best of it. ' You're a coward,' he said. 
 
 Gore rose from his seat once more, and Emerton began 
 to think he had gone a step too far. 
 
 ' You'd better get out of this room,' said Gore. 
 
 ' I'm not likely to want to stay in it with such a fellow 
 as you,' he retorted. ' I did think you had a morsel of 
 pluck in you, but I shan't make that mistake in future. 
 You're a confounded coward, and a disgrace to the 
 school.' 
 
 Two or three boys were in the room when this scene 
 took place, and they greatly wondered that Gore did not 
 accept Emerton's challenge ; they thought that the latter 
 had the best of it. It was generally considered that when 
 one boy called another a coward, the latter had to prove 
 that he was not by fighting his accuser, but Gore had 
 taken the accusation with scarcely a word of protest. It 
 did not strike them Emerton was very careful to keep 
 clear of Gore's challenge in respect of touching his cousin; 
 all they remembered was that Emerton had insulted him, 
 and that he had swallowed the insult. Eefore the tea 
 bell rang, all the school was in possession of the fact that 
 Gore and Emertou had had a row, and before the evening 
 was over the school was split into two divisions, those 
 who sided with Gore, and those who took Emerton's 
 part. 
 
 Most of the boys were disappointed in Gore. They 
 had anticipated seeing him smash his opponent and their 
 old tyrant ; now that he had not taken his opportunity, 
 but had rather seemed to shirk the encounter, they feared
 
 84 EXPELLED. 
 
 lest they might come in for all the arrears of biillying 
 which Emerton owed them. 
 
 The next afternoon was held the dancing-class. Gore, 
 who belonged to it, felt it to he an awful nuisance to 
 have to go, for he wanted every moment to work up for 
 the exam., which would take place the next week. But 
 
 lie was obliged to go, and his consolation was that 
 Emerton would have to be there too. 
 
 By this time most of the fun had gone out of the class, 
 and Tom, who had formerly looked forward to it with 
 pleasure, found it on the whole a great bore ; except for 
 the fact that he met Florrie and Cissie there, he would 
 have liked to have given it up. Mrs. Eussell always 
 brought the two young ladies, and, having seen them into 
 the care of the professor, she generally went into the
 
 A VISIT TO THE SPINNEY. 85 
 
 village to make calls, returning at the end of the lesson to 
 take them back ; so that Tom was able to have freer access 
 to his sister than he generally could obtain. However, 
 to-day his interview with her was interrupted by Mr. 
 Wiggins exclaiming, in a harsher tone than he generally 
 allowed himself to assume, 
 
 ' Don't lounge against the door like that, Mr. Emerton; 
 it looks very bad indeed; no gentleman ever lounges 
 about in that fashion.' 
 
 Emerton looked at the little professor rather super- 
 ciliously, and said, 'I don't quite see how you can tell 
 what a gentleman does.' 
 
 This of course was highly impertinent, and Mr. "Wiggins 
 felt it to be so ; he coloured up as if he had been a boy. 
 'Mr. Emerton,' he stammered out, 'I'm surprised at you!' 
 
 ' I daresay you are,' remarked Emerton coolly, ' but I 
 can't help that.' 
 
 Gore thought it was time to interpose ; the scene was 
 becoming rather painful, for Mr. Wiggins was evidently 
 growing very excited. ' At any rate, Emerton,' he said, 
 walking slowly up to him, ' we are sent here to learn, so 
 we ought to pay proper attention to whatever Mr. Wiggins 
 may say.' 
 
 ' I think so too,' put in Goodman, who took every safe 
 opportunity of paying out his enemy. 
 
 ' Do you indeed ? ' said Emerton sneeringly. ' Well, I 
 suppose you two know as much of what a gentleman 
 ought to do as Mr. Wiggins does.' Having said this, he 
 took up his hat and left the room. 
 
 This appeared to be a challenge to authority, but it in 
 reality was not so, for he had noticed that the time for 
 the lesson was just up. A minute after, Mrs. Russell
 
 86 EXPELLED. 
 
 entered the room, and the class broke up without any 
 
 further incident. 
 
 ' I say, Gore,' remarked Goodman confidentially, as 
 
 they walked towards the school, 'I think you ought to 
 
 lick Emertou.' 
 
 ' Do you want to see him licked ? ' inquired Gore. 
 ' Yes, by Jove ! I should think I do.' 
 ' Then why don't you do your own dirty work 1 ' 
 Goodman gave a sigh as he said sadly, ' I've tried.'
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 A QUARREL AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 WEBB found himself getting into trouble with more 
 frequency than was comfortable. He knew that he would 
 very soon be leaving school, and so felt more careless in 
 regard to its rules than he otherwise would have done ; 
 but, unfortunately for his peace of mind, he found that 
 when he offended againet the laws of Eastcote, the 
 authorities were as much down upon him as if they 
 anticipated his sojourn with them would be indefinitely 
 prolonged. The consequence was that day after day he 
 found himself burdened with impositions, and with very 
 little leisure time. This told on his temper, and he 
 became more irritable each day; this may account for 
 the following scene. 
 
 ' Webb,' said Emerton, one day across the school- 
 room, 'I want you to go down to town for me this 
 afternoon.' 
 
 ' Then you'll have to want,' was the reply. 
 
 ' I want a wax-end for my bat,' Emerton continuedj 
 paying no notice to the interruption. ' You can get it at
 
 88 EXPELLED. 
 
 the shoemaker's; it won't be more than twopence or three- 
 pence at the outside.' 
 
 "Webb did not reply at all this time. 
 
 ' Do you hear ? ' cried Emerton. 
 
 c Oh yes, I hear fast enough, but I'm not going ; I've 
 told you so once.' 
 
 'Do you mean you've got some punishment?' asked 
 Emerton. 
 
 ' Yes, and if I hadn't I shouldn't go down to the village. 
 I want to go to the Coastguard next time I go out.' 
 
 Emerton's reply to this was to seize him by the collar 
 and pull him out of his place. 
 
 ' You let me go, you brute ! ' shouted Webb ; ' or I'll 
 kick your shins for you.' 
 
 ' You'd better not try, you little beggar.' 
 
 ' I will "Will you let me go ? ' 
 
 But Emerton declined to accede to his request. 
 
 Webb kept his promise, and hit out wildly, at the same 
 time kicking as hard as he could in the direction of the 
 big boy's legs. 
 
 ' I'll cure you of that,' said Emerton, and he commenced 
 to give him a ' tanning.' 
 
 ' All right, you beast ! ' sobbed Webb, crying with anger 
 as well as pain. ' I'll pay you out for this.' 
 
 'Fire away,' responded Emerton; 'hadn't you better 
 begin now ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, so I will,' said Webb angrily. ' I'll tell the 
 Doctor to-night about that crib.' 
 
 Fortunately for Emerton, no one else was in the school- 
 room at this time; he glanced quickly round to assure 
 himself of the fact, and then, walking over to Webb, sat 
 down close to him.
 
 A QUARREL AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 89 
 
 ' You young fool,' lie exclaimed angrily, but still with 
 considerable seriousness in his voice, 'you don't know 
 what you're talking about ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, I do,' blubbered "Webb, ' and I mean it too. You 
 touch me again, and I'll go straight in to the Doctor.' 
 
 ' I'd smash you to jelly if I thought you would,' said 
 Emerton ; ' but you know better than that.' 
 
 ' Do I ? ' was the response. ' You'll see.' 
 
 1 Yes, you do. You can go in to the Doctor and tell 
 him just what you like, but I shall have a word or two 
 to say to him afterwards. Who got the crib sent ? Why, 
 you did, didn't you ? and then lent it to me.' 
 
 ' Yes, I remember,' replied Webb, seeing how he had 
 been served in return, ' and I think you're the beastliest 
 brute in the world.' 
 
 ' Come, draw it mild ; I'll make every allowance for 
 your state of mind, but you mustn't use such words as 
 that unless you want to get another licking.' 
 
 Webb muttered something unintelligible. 
 
 ' Now then,' said Emerton, who saw he had com- 
 pletely regained his ascendency over the youngster, 
 1 you can do just what you please, though I give you fair 
 warning that if you don't keep your mouth shut you'll 
 find that I shan't be content with simply licking you.' 
 
 ' Why, what else can you do 1 ' asked Webb. 
 
 'Never you mind ! wait and see.' It was decidedly 
 better to leave the threat vague, it would be more 
 terrible. 
 
 Before the evening was out, Webb found many occasions 
 to regret that he had quarrelled with his patron. It soon 
 got about the school that Emerton had been licking him, 
 and then Webb tasted all the bitterness of hoarded-up
 
 90 EXPELLED. 
 
 revenge on the part of those boys whom he had bullied 
 in safety when Emerton backed him up. 
 
 However, Webb was not quite so stranded as he feared. 
 It came natural to him to seek for a patron rather than 
 a friend ; in fact, there were but few of the boys of his 
 own size in the school who would have cared to have 
 chummed with him. By a curious series of events he 
 found himself attached to Goodman. They had several 
 strong bonds of sympathy; they both hated Emerton like 
 poison, and were both afraid of him. Then, again, both of 
 them were friendless, for Goodman had contrived to make 
 himself thoroughly disliked before his fall, and even now 
 was somewhat of a pariah. "Webb was equally so, and 
 thus the two boys found themselves thrown together 
 a good deal, and formed a friendship of more sincerity 
 than might have been expected. 
 
 ' I'll tell you what, Goodie,' said "Webb one day , 
 'when I am big, and come back from Harrow, I shall 
 find out that fellow Emerton and give him a jolly good 
 licking.' 
 
 ' I hope you will,' replied Goodman. 
 
 ' He's an awful sneak. He's going in for this exam., 
 you know ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Goodman ; ' but I don't think he'll win, 
 will he?' 
 
 ' Oh, won't he ! ' said "Webb mysteriously. 
 
 ' How ? ' inquired Goodman, fired with curiosity, and 
 seeing that his companion was evidently concealing 
 something from him. 
 
 ' Why, he's got a crib ! ' 
 
 ' Has he ? ' said Goodman, interested at once. ' Whore 
 on earth did he get that from 1 '
 
 A QUARREL AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 91 
 
 ' I got it for him,' replied Webb, with a certain amount 
 of pride in the fact; 'but I wish to goodness I hadn't 
 now.' 
 
 They were seated in a corner of the playground when 
 this conversation took place ; no one was near them, and 
 Webb seemed disposed to get quite confidential. 
 
 ' You won't breathe a word of what I told you,' he 
 said, ' if I let you know a secret 1 ' 
 
 ' No,' replied Goodman. 
 
 ' Well, I can tell you where that fellow keeps his crib. 
 It would serve him jolly well right, wouldn't it, if some 
 one were to take it and hide it 1 ' 
 
 ' Yes, it would,' assented Goodman. ' Why don't you 
 doit?' 
 
 ' Oh, I can't,' replied the other. ' Don't you see that as 
 I got it for him, and am the only one in the school that 
 knows anything about it, if he were to lose it he would 
 pitch on me directly. But look here, I'll tell you what 
 we'll do ; I'll tell you where it is, and you take it out and 
 hide it somewhere, but don't tell me where, because he is 
 sure to ask me if I've taken it, and I want to be able to 
 say that I haven't, and that I don't know where it is.' 
 
 <A11 right,' said Goodman, Til do it. I'll do it to- 
 night,' he added decisively. 
 
 The next afternoon, taking his Euclid with him, Gore 
 went out for a solitary walk along the beach, and found 
 himself in the bathing cove. He lay down full length 
 on the sand, and, opening his book, commenced a quiet 
 hour's study ; but in spite of himself he could not fix his 
 mind on the propositions ; his thoughts flew off from the 
 circle ABC at a tangent, and he found himself ruminat- 
 ing over recent events. He was still thinking them over
 
 92 EXPELLED. 
 
 when they seemed to get mixed up with Q.E.D., and that 
 with the ode 'Ad Mcecenatem.' 
 
 Then he did not remember what he was thinking 
 about, for, lulled by the murmuring sound of the rising 
 tide, he fell fast asleep. 
 
 He woke suddenly with a sharp pain in his side ; he 
 jumped to his feet in a moment and looked round, but 
 nothing was to be seen, yet he was quite sure that he 
 had received a blow. It occurred to him in a moment 
 that a small piece of rock must have become detached 
 from the cliffs above his head and fallen on him ; this 
 explained everything, and without giving another thought 
 to the matter he started for home. Just as he was 
 about to turn the corner by the rocks, he chanced to 
 look behind him and up the high cliffs. He there saw 
 a figure climbing painfully and slowly tip the perpen- 
 dicular rock ; he was within a few feet of the summit, 
 and as Gore watched him gained the edge and dis- 
 appeared. ' What on earth can he be up to ? ' thought 
 Gore ; ' he can't be bird-nesting this time of the year, and 
 there is nothing else to go down the cliffs for. I wonder 
 who it was.' It was impossible, however, to satisfy his 
 curiosity, and as it was now nearly tea-time he again 
 turned towards home, walking pretty quickly; but in 
 spite of himself his mind ran continually on the scene 
 he had witnessed; he kept wondering more and more 
 what could have been the object of the climber. Even 
 when he was in bed he could not shake his mind free of 
 the subject, and it gained such a hold upon him that he 
 inwardly determined at the earliest chance he would 
 descend the cliff at the point where he had seen the 
 man, and try to discover the meaning of his movements.
 
 A QUARREL AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 93 
 
 The next morning Gore prepared his lesson as carefully 
 as possible, but by this time he had become quite recon- 
 ciled to being below his rival when the classics came 
 round. To his immense surprise he found on this 
 occasion that Emerton was making fearful hash of his 
 translation. 
 
 ' What is the matter with you this morning ? ' inquired 
 the Doctor; 'you don't seem to be doing as well as usual.' 
 
 ' No, sir,' replied Emerton ; ' I had a bad headache last 
 night.' 
 
 'I am sorry to hear that,' said the Doctor. 'Do you 
 feel unwell now 1 ' 
 
 'No, sir,' said Emerton. 
 
 ' You weren't able to prepare, of course ? ' continued 
 the Doctor. 
 
 ' No, sir,' was the reply. 
 
 ' Then I will ask you a few questions on the preceding 
 odes instead of going on with to-day's.' 
 
 This he proceeded to do, but became more and more 
 annoyed as Emerton showed that his memory was com- 
 pletely at fault. Odes which a day or two before he had 
 translated with perfect correctness, he now knew nothing 
 of whatever. At last the Doctor ceased to question him, 
 and turned to Gore, who acquitted himself fully as well as 
 usual. 
 
 ' That settles it,' said Gore to himself ; ' he had a crib, 
 but now he must have lost it, or else come to the end of 
 it. There's a chance for me yet.' 
 
 Morning school was no sooner over than Emerton got 
 hold of "Webb and took him to a quiet spot in the play- 
 ground. ' Now, you young beggar,' he said, ' it's no good 
 your trying to fool me ; where's that crib ? '
 
 94 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' I haven't seen it,' said Webb sulkily. 
 
 ' No bosh now ! No other fellow in the school knows 
 that I've got one, and now I've lost it ; you must have 
 taken it.' 
 
 ' No, I haven't,' returned Webb. 
 
 ' I don't believe you.' 
 
 ' I can't help it. I haven't seen the blessed thing.' 
 
 ' Will you swear that ? ' demanded Emerton. 
 
 ' Yes, I will.' 
 
 ' That you haven't touched it 1 ' 
 
 1 That I haven't touched it, and haven't seen it, and 
 haven't got the ghost of an idea where it is. It's no good 
 your licking me ; I shan't say anything else, because it's 
 true.' 
 
 ' If it isn't true, I'll make you repent it to the last day 
 of your life,' said Emerton. 
 
 Where on earth could it be ? It was getting serious ; 
 if he could not discover it some time during the next day 
 his chance in the exam, would be all over, for, trust- 
 ing to his crib, he had never prepared a translation 
 of any of the odes, and it was much too late for him 
 to begin to plod through them now with the aid of a 
 dictionary. 
 
 ' I know who it is,' he suddenly exclaimed ; ' it's that 
 young Tom. He fetched the book up from the "Chequers," 
 and he must have guessed what it was. Webb's put him 
 up to it, I expect. What a young beggar it is ! ' 
 
 A few minutes more, and Tom found himself in the 
 hands of his old tormentor. 
 
 ' Have you seen a book of mine ? ' he inquired. 
 
 ' No,' replied Tom. ' Have you lost one ?' 
 
 1 Yes, a small thin book.'
 
 A QUARREL AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 95 
 
 ' No, I haven't seen anything. What was the name of 
 it 1 ' inquired Tom. 
 
 ' It was like that one you brought up from the 
 " Chequers," ' replied Emerton meaningly. 
 
 ' Oh, was that your book ? ' asked Tom innocently. ' I 
 didn't know that. I thought it was for Webb ; you told 
 me it was, you remember.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, so I did ; that was for Webb. It isn't that 
 one I mean. You haven't seen it then ? ' he added in- 
 consequentially. 
 
 ' No, I haven't,' replied Tom. 
 
 Emerton was afraid to make any further general 
 inquiries round the school, as it would have aroused 
 suspicion ; all he could do was to search in every nook 
 and cranny that he could think of. 
 
 It seemed as if his chance of winning the exam, and 
 the attendant 10 was gone like a flash. 
 
 Leaving the exam, to take care of itself, Gore obtained 
 permission to go out that afternoon. His idea was 
 to discover the meaning of the mysterious movement 
 of the man on the cliff above the bathing cove. He 
 found without difficulty the point at which the descent 
 must have been made. There was a crevice between the 
 rocks which made it possible to climb carefully on to a 
 ledge some eight feet from the edge. The whole side of 
 the cliff was honeycombed with holes in which numerous 
 gulls built their nests. It seemed quite probable that 
 the mysterious visitant had "hidden something in one of 
 these holes ; the question was, which opening had he 
 selected ? Looking round to see that he was unobserved, 
 he advanced to the edge, and step by step carefully let 
 himself down the crevice. When he reached the ledge
 
 96 EXPELLED. 
 
 he found that there were only three holes within his 
 reach ; two of these were empty, the third he could not 
 look into, but could just reach with his hand. He leant 
 over, pushed his hand right into the aperture, and felt 
 that there was a book in his grasp. 
 
 ' Why, what on earth's this ? ' he thought, as he drew 
 his hand out slowly, gradually working himself back to 
 the perpendicular. He managed to open it with one hand 
 as he held on with the other, and saw in an instant that 
 this book was Emerton's crib. ' By Jove ! ' he exclaimed; 
 ' so he's been hiding it up here ! No wonder that I never 
 was able to get a sight of it.' He put the book in his 
 pocket and then commenced to climb up the side of the 
 cliff again. To his discomfort, however, he saw approach- 
 ing him in the distance none other than Emerton. He 
 clambered up the remainder of the cliff as rapidly as 
 possible, and managed to reach the top just as Emerton 
 appeared in view. He did not rise to his feet, but threw 
 himself full length along the path, as if he had lain down 
 to rest. Emerton came up to him in a few moments ; at 
 first he appeared inclined to pass on without speaking, 
 but on second thoughts he stopped. 
 
 ' What on earth are you doing here ? ' he asked. 
 
 'I'm resting,' replied Gore; 'I had a headache this 
 afternoon.' This was true enough, although it was 
 certainly misleading. 'By-the-by,' he continued, 'what 
 a hash you made of your Horace this morning ! How 
 on earth was it ? ' 
 
 ' I had a headache too,' returned Emerton ; ' I suppose 
 you haven't a monopoly of them, have you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, by no means,' said Gore ; ' but I hope mine won't 
 have such a deadly effect on my memory.'
 
 A QUARREL AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 97 
 
 ' What do you mean? ' cried Emerton, in a rago. 
 
 ' Whatever you like,' was the reply. ' I warned you 
 some time ago about that exam., and you didn't take my 
 warning.' 
 
 ' Well?' said Emerton. 
 
 ' Well,' continued Gore, ' I mean to win that exam, if 
 possible.' 
 
 ' You confounded sneak ! ' burst out Emerton ; ' you've 
 been to my desk. That's what people call stealing.' 
 
 ' Whatever are you talking about ? ' asked Gore 
 innocently. ' I've never been to your desk in my life.' 
 
 Emerton looked at him doubtfully, as if he were 
 inclined to disbelieve him, but even if he did he was 
 not in much better case. He had the painful experience 
 that his crib was gone, and that Gore knew that he had 
 used one. What could he do 1 Apparently nothing. 
 He turned on his heel and left Gore alone.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A STEP TOO FAR. 
 
 NEEDLESS to say Gore kept very 
 careful guard over the 'crib' now 
 that he had it in his possession. 
 He felt now comparatively safe. 
 Emerton had trusted so entirely to 
 his crib that without its aid he must 
 inevitably be stranded. 
 
 It may be wondered at that, 
 when Webb instructed Goodman as 
 to how he might obtain revenge on 
 Emerton by stealing his crib, he 
 did not destroy it in order to make 
 himself safe in case of any possible 
 discovery on the part of the authori- 
 ties. The reason was that he had 
 promised his brother faithfully to 
 return it to him when done with. 
 His idea was that it should remain 
 hidden until the end of the term, 
 
 when he could obtain possession of it and bid farewell 
 and defiance at the same time to all the authorities at 
 Eastcote. 
 
 The examination began. The boys worked their way 
 
 98
 
 A STEP TOO FAR. 99 
 
 slowly through the long list of questions relating to 
 intricacies of mathematics ; they brought x to the nth 
 power ; they drew triangles on all sorts of lines, inscribed 
 circles round various points ; and altogether ' had a fine 
 old time,' as Mason put it. Gore did fairly well, and 
 Emerton, too, seemed pretty well satisfied with his Avork. 
 In the afternoon came the classical exams. ; here Gore 
 seemed to have it all his own way. The ode chosen 
 for translation chanced to be one which he knew specially 
 well. Emerton's knowledge of it was decidedly superficial, 
 still he did the best he could. He would have given a 
 good deal to have won the exam., even if he never gained 
 a penny by it, simply for the pleasure of beating his 
 rival. 
 
 ' I say, Goodie,' whispered Webb towards the close of 
 the afternoon, 'Emerton doesn't seem to be getting on 
 very much ; he's struck ; ho hasn't written a word for the 
 last five minutes. I've been watching him.' 
 
 ' Serve him right,' said Goodman. ' I don't think he's 
 much chance now.' 
 
 ' Nor I,' returned Webb. ' Well, I think we've both of 
 us taken our change out of him. What do you say ? ' 
 
 ' Rather,' assented Goodman. ' I told him long ago I'd 
 pay him out, and now I have.' 
 
 ' I say,' continued Webb, in a whisper, ' I'm going 
 to try to get to the Spinney this afternoon ; will you 
 come ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' was the reply. ' It's a fearful long 
 trot, and the chances are we shan't have time to get any 
 apples when we get there.' 
 
 ' Not if you go to the farmhouse,' said the youngster, 
 ' but we needn't do that. All you've got to do is to hop
 
 100 
 
 EXPELLED. 
 
 over the hedge, and there you are you can help yourself 
 at your leisure.' 
 
 Goodman at length assented ; they both had permission 
 to go out that afternoon for the usual hour and a half, 
 and on the day of examination it was improbable that 
 discipline would be as strictly maintained as usual. There 
 
 was a sort of un- 
 usual sensation in 
 the air, and boys 
 neglected their 
 lessons without 
 coming in for their 
 usual punishment. 
 Every rule seemed 
 to be more or less 
 abrogated. How- 
 ever, rules were not 
 so far relaxed as to 
 enable the Doctor to 
 overlook so grave 
 an offence as coming 
 in half an hour late 
 for tea; and this 
 was the offence 
 which Goodman and 
 Webb committed. 
 
 Webb had been continually in hot water of late ; his 
 offences had irritated the Doctor to a high degree. On 
 the present occasion he sent for him, and, after reprimand- 
 ing him severely, told him explicitly that the next grave 
 offence of which he had to complain would result in his 
 immediate expulsion. He received a heavy punishment,
 
 A STEP TOO FAK. 101 
 
 and was confined to the school precincts for a week. 
 Goodman escaped rather more easily, as he had not 
 incurred the Doctor's displeasure recently. 
 
 The examination was over, and there was nothing now 
 to do but wait until the result was made known. 
 
 ' Thank goodness it's over ! ' said Gore to his little 
 cousin, with a sigh of relief ; ' I feel as if I had a big 
 weight off my chest.' He took a long yawn, and stretched 
 himself, evidently relieved. 
 
 ' Exams, don't seem to agree with you,' said Mason. 
 
 ' No, they don't,' was the reply ; ' and yet I've got to go 
 in for about a dozen, I believe, before I am a full-blown 
 doctor.' 
 
 ' All medical ones ? ' inquired Mason. ' Can you describe 
 the circulation of the blood ? ' 
 
 ' What on earth do you mean 1 ' said Gore. 
 
 ' Oh, that's a regular question to the medicals, don't 
 you know, and the answer is, " Down one leg and up the 
 other."' 
 
 Gore laughed, and, giving chase to the youngster, made 
 him spin round the playground at an unaccustomed rate. 
 
 ' I say,' said Mason when he was caught, ' have you 
 heard about Webb ? ' 
 
 ' No ; what's the row 1 ' 
 
 ' He's in for a most awful shine. The Doctor's had 
 him up, and told him he'd expel him next time he came 
 before him.' 
 
 What's that for 1 ' asked Gore. 
 
 ' Oh, nothing in particular things in general. He's 
 been accumulating no end of atrocities recently, and 
 now matters have come to a crisis; there has been an 
 explosion.'
 
 102 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' It's his own fault,' said Gore ; ' he's been a little fool, 
 and he'll see it some day. I'm afraid that fellow Emerton 
 hasn't done him any good.' 
 
 ' I don't expect he has,' agreed Mason. ' Webb was 
 quite a decent little chap when he came here first, before 
 he got to be always about with Emerton. Thank heaven 
 that that fellow didn't take a fancy to me ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, you may well be thankful for that,' returned 
 Gore seriously ; ' it makes all the difference to a youngster 
 when he first comes to a school whether he gets into a 
 good or bad set. Mind you're careful, when you're grown 
 up and become head boy, that you use your influence on 
 the right side. You'll make many a fellow thankful for 
 it in after years if- you do.' 
 
 Mason promised he would, and Gore was satisfied that 
 his little cousin, though somewhat mischievous, and 
 decidedly thoughtless, had the making of a very decent 
 fellow in him. 
 
 To return to Webb, who was fuming with anger at the 
 Doctor's prohibition. He specially wanted to go down 
 to the village next day, and, in fact, had arranged to go 
 down with Goodman, and had obtained permission pre- 
 vious to his expedition to the Spinney. He thought it 
 very unjust, and Goodman agreed with him, that that 
 promise should now be revoked. 
 
 ' Tell you what, Goodie,' he exclaimed, { I'll chance it, 
 if you will.' 
 
 ' I don't much care about it,' was the reply ; ' though, if 
 we don't get that bat to-day, we shall have to give it up.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Webb ruefully, ' I've told Morgan I'd let 
 him know at the latest to-day whether I would take it. 
 It's a jolly good bat too ; I wouldn't miss it for something.
 
 A STEP TOO FAR. 
 
 103 
 
 Goodie, I'll go, chance 
 it all, and you can 
 come or not, just as you 
 like, though, if you're 
 half a fellow, you'll 
 come.' 
 
 ' All right,' returned 
 Goodman, in despera- 
 tion. ' I'll come. Why 
 should I care ? ' 
 
 Both boys felt that 
 the expedition was 
 attended with consider- 
 able danger, but they 
 laid their plans rather 
 carefully. They 
 arranged to go by dif- 
 ferent routes, and meet 
 at a given spot. By 
 good luck the Doctor 
 went out for a walk 
 directly after afternoon 
 school was over ; they 
 watched him clear off 
 the premises, and 
 judged, by the direction 
 he took, that there was 
 no danger of his appear- 
 ance in the village. 
 
 ' I'm off,' said Webb. 
 'Don't you forget where 
 we've got to meet.'
 
 104 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' All right,' said Goodman. ' I expect I shall be there 
 first ; you've got the longest way to go.' 
 
 ' Never mind ; I'll run,' returned Webb, and off he 
 went. 
 
 Goodman slipped out and soon arrived at the main 
 street of the village. Happening to look behind him as 
 he entered it, ho saw, about a hundred yards in the rear, 
 none other than Dr. Russell, walking rapidly along. To 
 dive down a by-street and stand in a doorway was the 
 work of a second for Goodman ; but, to his indescribable 
 dismay, just as ho left the main road he saw in the far 
 distance Webb rapidly approaching. In three minutes 
 at the outside he must meet the Doctor. Directly cither 
 turned the corner he must catch sight of the other. 
 
 ' Oh, gemini ! here's a go ! ' thought Goodman. ' What 
 on earth can I do now ? If I go out of here the Doctor 
 will nab me as sure as life, and if I can't warn Webb he'll 
 get caught to a dead certainty. Oh, thank goodness ! ' 
 he ejaculated, as he saw some one approaching. It Avas 
 Emerton. 
 
 Forgetful of the enmity which existed between them, 
 Goodman jumped from his hiding-place, seized Emerton 
 by the arm, and said imploringly, 
 
 ' Run as hard as you can and stop Webb. He's 
 coming down the High Street, and the Doctor's coming 
 down the other Avay, and they'll meet. He's out without 
 leave.' 
 
 ' Go and tell him yourself,' retorted Emerton, shaking 
 his arm free. 
 
 ' I can't,' said Goodman excitedly. ' Don't you know 
 I'm out without leave too ? ' 
 
 A rapid thought shot through Emerton's brain.
 
 A STEP TOO FAR. 105 
 
 ' I'm not going to do your messages,' he said angrily. 
 ' Don't you see that if the Doctor saw me with Webb I 
 should get into a row for telling him ? You must look 
 after yourselves. If you choose to get into scrapes like 
 this you must find your own way out, that's all.' 
 
 He then walked on unconcernedly, and Goodman had 
 only just time to shrink back into his doorway as the 
 Doctor passed the end of the passage. Another moment, 
 as he well knew, and he must inevitably get sight cf 
 Webb. 
 
 That was exactly what happened. Webb almost ran 
 into the Doctor's arms. He stopped short on seeing him, 
 hesitated for a moment, as if he would turn tail and run, 
 and then, seeing that flight would avail him nothing, he 
 stood and faced the Doctor. He did not see Emerton at 
 all, as he had kept carefully out of sight. 
 
 'What is this, Webb?' inquired the Doctor sternly, 
 surprised beyond measure to see him there. ' I thought 
 I told you not to leave the school for a week. ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' said Webb. 
 
 ' Have you any excuse ? ' demanded the Doctor. 
 
 ' No, sir,' was the response. 
 
 ' Then come back with me.' 
 
 The Doctor took him by the arm and marched him 
 direct back to Eastcote. On arriving there, he took him 
 in by the front door of the house, instead of by the usual 
 entrance through the gates, marched him up-stairs, and 
 locked him into an unoccupied room. 
 
 In about half an hour the Doctor came back, opened 
 the door, and stood before the culprit. 
 
 ' You know what I told you, Webb,' he said severely, 
 ' and you know I am a man of my word. The house-
 
 106 EXPELLED. 
 
 keeper has packed up your boxes, and you Avill leave 
 Eastcote by the first train to-morrow morning. I have 
 written to your father, who will receive the letter an hour 
 or two before you arrive.' 
 
 Poor Webb had nothing to say. He knew it was 
 hopeless to appeal to the Doctor's mercy, and he knew, 
 moreover, that he thoroughly deserved expulsion. How- 
 ever, now that the crisis had really come, the feeling of 
 desperation which had sustained him during the past
 
 A STEP TOO FAR. 
 
 107 
 
 week entirely forsook him, and he hegan to cry most 
 bitterly. The Doctor was touched, and, although he had 
 no intention of altering his sentence, he laid his hand 
 kindly on the boy's shoulder, and talked to him sympa- 
 thizingly and earnestly, pointing out how his thoughtless 
 and perverse conduct had entailed, not only trouble and 
 pain on himself, but also on his parents, advising him 
 strongly to turn over a new leaf, and at the school to 
 which he might be sent on leaving Eastcote to try and 
 lead a better sort of life. Webb promised he would. 
 At all events, he now deeply regretted that he had been 
 such a fool whilst at Eastcote.
 
 CHATTER X. 
 
 HOIST WITH HIS OWN PETARD. 
 
 ' I SAY, you fellows,' exclaimed 
 Tom, bursting into the bed- 
 room that evening, 'have you 
 heard the news ? ' 
 
 'No; what is it?' asked 
 Phillips sharply. 
 
 ' Webb's expelled, and he's 
 got to go away to - morrow 
 morning.' 
 
 'By Jove!' exclaimed 
 Phillips ; ' it's come at last. 
 I thought he would do for 
 himself sooner or later.' 
 
 ' But shan't we see him 
 again ? ' inquired Goodman, 
 
 108
 
 HOIST WITH HIS OWN PETARD. 109 
 
 'No,' replied Tom. 'He's going to sleep in No. 17 
 to-night. His box is packed and all, and he's going by 
 the early train to-morrow morning.' 
 
 ' Well, I am sorry ! ' said Goodman. ' I don't know 
 what anybody else is.' 
 
 Nobody else seemed to feel called upon to speak, and 
 Emerton, when the news was brought to him, did not 
 say anything, though he was secretly very glad to hear it. 
 He would have had plenty of time to warn Webb of his 
 impending danger in the village, but it had suddenly 
 occurred to him then that Webb was the only boy in the 
 school who knew that he had possessed a crib. Of course 
 he was not aware that Gore had it. He thought that 
 Gore had only surmised his possession of it. Webb, on 
 the other hand, knew all the facts of the case, and could 
 prove it. If Webb were expelled, he, Emerton, would 
 be quite safe. No one could say that he had ever pos- 
 sessed a crib. 
 
 Goodman, who had formed a real liking for Webb, 
 made an ineffectual attempt to see him before he left. 
 Eailing in this, he determined to write to him and tell 
 him whose fault it was that he had been caught down in 
 the village. He informed him how Emerton could have 
 saved him from expulsion, and how he had refused to do 
 so. This letter he persuaded a day-boy to post for him 
 after morning school was over, so that Webb received it 
 the day after he left Eastcote. Of course the despatch of 
 this letter was entirely unknown to Emerton. He felt a 
 weight had been removed from his mind when Webb 
 had gone. 
 
 It happened that Gore and Emerton met in the play- 
 ground after school, and Emerton took advantage of the
 
 110 EXPELLED. 
 
 opportunity to ask Gore, in a friendly tone, how he 
 thought he had got on at the exam. 
 
 The two boys had not spoken to each other for the last 
 two or three days, and Gore was somewhat surprised to 
 find Emerton apparently wishing to be on good terms 
 with him again. 
 
 ' Oh, I got on pretty well, I think,' was the reply. 
 ' How did you do ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, better than I expected a good deal,' said Emerton, 
 ' though I expect you pulled it off.' 
 ' Well, I hope so,' responded Gore. 
 ' How did you translate the bit "Lhdces docta modos " ? ' 
 Gore explained, ' Skilled in sweet measures.' 
 ' But did you get that out of your own head 1 ' inquired 
 Emerton. 
 
 ' No, I can't say I did. I got it out of a dictionary.' 
 'H'm!' rejoined Emerton ; 'strange! I put that bit in, 
 too.' 
 
 ' Oh, did you ? Did you get it out of a dictionary 1 ' 
 ' Never mind where I got it from,' returned Emerton, 
 the fact being that it was a particular sentence he had 
 chanced to remember from his crib. 
 
 At this moment something happened to interrupt their 
 talk. Gore's answer had put a fresh idea into Emerton's 
 mind ; he had never been able to entirely satisfy himself 
 on the point as to whether Gore knew more about the 
 crib than he would care to confess, and Gore's reply about 
 that particular passage seemed to confirm his suspicion 
 that it was he who had obtained the crib ; how or when 
 he got it was a perfect mystery, because he fully believed 
 Gore quite incapable of taking anything from another 
 boy's desk. To go to another fellow's desk without his
 
 HOIST WITH HIS OWN PETARD. 
 
 Ill 
 
 permission was a breach of school etiquette which was 
 never committed ; any boy who would dare to do such a 
 thing would be speedily sejit to Coventry by the whole 
 school. 
 
 Two days afterwards, Enierton was somewhat sur- 
 prised at being 
 sent for by the 
 Doctor. 
 
 ' What's up 
 now 1 ' he said to 
 himself, as he 
 went in. 'Is he 
 going to tell me 
 that I haven't 
 won the exam., 
 and wants to let 
 me down easy ? ' 
 
 This, however, 
 was not by any 
 means the subject 
 of the interview. 
 TheDoctor looked 
 very grave as 
 Emerton entered 
 his private 
 room. 
 
 ' Emerton,' he began, ' I have received a most extra- 
 ordinary letter, which, I am sorry to say, accuses you of 
 the gravest breaches of school discipline. It is from a boy 
 in whom I confess I can place but scant confidence, and I 
 am unwilling to believe his assertions on his bare word ; 
 doubtless you will be able to disprove what he states.'
 
 112 EXPELLED. 
 
 ' I hope so, sir,' said Emerton ; ' I am unaware of 
 having done anything against rules.' 
 
 ' It is from Webb,' continued Dr. Russell. ' He states 
 that he and you, a few weeks back, robbed Farmer Brown's 
 orchard at Hartwell Spinney. Now, you may not be 
 aware that I have already severely punished one of the 
 boys on suspicion of his having been concerned in this 
 matter.' 
 
 ' I was not aware of it, indeed,' answered Emerton ; 
 ' but I am bound to confess that Webb is partly correct 
 in what he states. We certainly did go to the Spinney 
 together, and he climbed over the hedge and stole some 
 apples, although I had proposed to him that we should go 
 round to the house, as usual, to buy some.' 
 
 The crisis had arrived, and Emerton was quite prepared, 
 if necessary, to tell a direct lie in order to save himself. 
 
 ' You know, sir,' he continued, ' that Webb and I Avere 
 on very bad terms, and that he would be only too ready 
 to get me into trouble if he could, without caring whether 
 he spoke the truth or not.' 
 
 ' No,' said the Doctor, ' I did not know that you had 
 quarrelled ; what was it about 1 ' 
 
 ' lie wanted me to help him in his lessons, but I told 
 him that I didn't think it was fair to the other boys, so I 
 refused. He got very angry, and the result of it was, we 
 quarrelled, and he said that he would pay me out some 
 day, so I suppose the letter that you have received is by 
 way of keeping his promise.' 
 
 ' I hope I shall be able to look upon it in that light,' 
 replied the Doctor; 'but he makes a still more serious 
 charge against you. He says that he is certain that yon 
 possess a crib of Horace, and that you largely used it in
 
 HOIST WITH HIS OWN PETARD. 113 
 
 preparing for the examination.' (Webb had, in his letter 
 to the Doctor, carefully concealed the fact that he had 
 obtained the crib himself for Emerton.) 
 
 ' I am bound to confess,' resumed the Doctor, ' that I 
 was rather surprised at the vast improvement which took 
 place, rather suddenly, in your translations.' 
 
 ' That Avas the result of my working harder than usual,' 
 explained Emerton. ' I very much wanted to win this 
 exam. ; besides, the odes that I translated so much better 
 than the others were a good deal easier.' 
 
 ' That's partly true,' assented the Doctor ; ' and I am 
 bound to confess that in your examination you did not 
 shine nearly so well as I had expected. If you had 
 possessed a crib, I take it for granted that you would 
 have made out a much better paper than that which you 
 presented.' 
 
 ' Do you mind telling me,' said Emerton, { whether 
 Gore or I did the best classical paper ? ' 
 
 ' I did not intend to make the result of the examination 
 known until to-morrow ; but I may tell you that Gore has 
 decidedly distinguished himself in classics, much to my 
 surprise, I confess.' 
 
 ' In that case, sir, which of us would you imagine 
 possessed a crib ? ' 
 
 The Doctor looked utterly surprised. ' Why, you don't 
 mean to say that you imagine Gore is capable of having 
 used a crib ? ' he exclaimed sharply. 
 
 Emerton did not reply directly. ( I didn't accuse him, 
 sir, of course ; but I think that the great strides he has 
 recently made in classics are at least as noticeable as those 
 which roused your suspicion in respect of myself.' 
 
 The Doctor appeared to be extremely puzzled and 
 n
 
 114 
 
 EXPELLED. 
 
 annoyed. It must be remembered, that although his 
 confidence in Gore had received a rude shock in the 
 matter of the robbing of the orchard, that was now 
 explained j his reinstated confidence was now again 
 shaken. 
 
 ' There is an easy way of settling it, sir,' suggested 
 Emerton ; ' if you think that I possess a crib, I'm quite 
 ready to have my desk searched, on the condition that 
 Gore's is searched also.' 
 
 The Doctor hesitated. ' You are quite right, Emerton,' 
 he said, after a little reflection; 'this is a very serious 
 accusation to have made against any one. If you are 
 both innocent, you will not object to proving it by having 
 your desks searched ; if you are guilty But there, I 
 will not contemplate such a possibility at present. Come 
 with me.' 
 
 The Doctor turned to the schoolroom, which was now
 
 HOIST WITH HIS OWN PETARD. 115 
 
 completely deserted ; he sent a message to Gore, saying 
 that he wanted him. 
 
 ' Gore,' began the Doctor, ' I have been informed by 
 some one that a crib has been used by you or Emerton 
 for this examination. The fairest way of deciding the 
 question is to do as Emerton has suggested to search 
 both your desks.' 
 
 Gore coloured up in spite of himself. 
 
 ' There is no need to search my desk, sir,' he said ; 
 ' there is a crib there, but it does not belong to me.' 
 
 ' Give it me, sir,' said the Doctor sharply. 
 
 Gore put his hand into his desk and drew out the little 
 book. 
 
 ' Do you say this is not yours ? ' , 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' Avas Gore's answer. 
 
 ' And do you, Emerton 1 ' 
 
 ' It is not mine, sir,' replied Emerton. 
 
 ' Gore, come into my private room.' 
 
 Gore followed the Doctor, giving Emerton a glance cf 
 contempt as he passed, of which the latter took no notice. 
 
 ' Now, Gore, tell me all about this,' said the Doctor 
 severely. 
 
 Gore in reply gave him a history of all the events con- 
 nected with the crib, describing how he had found it in 
 the hole on the cliffs. 
 
 ' How long have you had this ? ' inquired the Doctor. 
 
 ' Ever since, sir.' 
 
 ' That means several days before the examination ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' I must say, Gore, yours is a very lame story. "Whether 
 you will be able to prove it to be true or not, you have laid 
 yourself open to grave suspicion by keeping this book ; you
 
 116 EXPELLED. 
 
 ought to have instantly brought it to me. Who was with 
 you when you found it in that most unlikely hiding-place ? ' 
 
 ' No one, sir,' Gore replied. 
 
 The Doctor frowned. ' It is a very strange thing, sir,' 
 he said, ' that there never seem to he any witnesses when 
 you are engaged in dubious actions. You have never yet 
 
 explained to me how you were occupied on that afternoon 
 when Mr. Brown's apples were stolen.' 
 
 ' I told you then, sir,' Gore broke out, ' that I had 
 never been to Hartwell Spinney in my life, and you did 
 not believe me ; I cannot hope that you will believe me 
 now, but it is the truth, nevertheless.'
 
 HOIST WITH HIS OWN PETARD. 117 
 
 ' Circumstances have come to my knowledge,' replied 
 Dr. Russell, ' which lead me to believe that you were not 
 engaged in that robbery ; but the punishment which you 
 received for that offence was richly deserved by your 
 refusing to inform me how you were employed that after- 
 noon. Are you prepared to make any confession on that 
 point now ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir,' replied Gore firmly. 
 
 ' Have you anything further to say with regard to your 
 possession of this crib ? ' continued the Doctor, confirmed 
 in his suspicion by Gore's refusal to explain matters in 
 respect of the other point. 
 
 ' No, sir,' again responded Gore. 
 
 ' Very well, sir ; I shall consider you as guilty. You 
 will remain in exclusion from all the boys of the school, 
 until I have had time to communicate with your parents. 
 It depends on what your father may write to nie, whether 
 you will continue at Eastcote or not.'
 
 CHAPTEK XL 
 
 'THE LAST. 
 
 F course it soon became known through 
 the school, how, none could guess, that 
 Gore was in for a tremendous row. The 
 curiosity and excitement on the subject 
 increased every moment, and there 
 seemed to be no means of allaying it. 
 Poor Tom was in a most miserable 
 state ; ignorant of all that had happened, 
 he feared that Gore's visit to the 
 'Chequers' had been in some mysterious 
 way discovered, and that this row. was 
 the consequence. The poor little fellow 
 could not sleep for thinking of it. 
 lie was passionately attached to Gore, 
 and he fully determined in his own 
 mind that, if this was the reason of 
 Gore's disgrace, he would go straight to his father and 
 confess the whole story ; that at least would clear Gore. 
 The difficulty was, how could he find out whether his 
 suspicions were correct or not ? He determined to try. 
 He knew where Gore was confined ; it was in a part of 
 the house separated from all the other bedrooms. Tom
 
 THE LAST. 119 
 
 resolved to risk a visit to him. Slipping out of his bed 
 about midnight, after all the other boys were asleep, he 
 stole noiselessly along the corridor until he came to the 
 door of Gore's room. He scratched on the panels gently 
 at first, and then louder, till he heard a movement inside. 
 
 ' It's only me, Gore,' he whispered through the key- 
 hole. 
 
 ' Who's me ? ' returned Gore, who, like Tom, had failed 
 to get to sleep. 
 
 'Tom,' was the reply. ' Can you open the door?' 
 
 ' Oh yes,' whispered Gore ; ' it isn't locked.' He 
 opened the door quietly, and Tom slid in. 
 
 ' Well, what's the row, young un ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' Oh, Gore, I couldn't sleep thinking about it,' was 
 Tom's reply. ' I hear you're in for a most awf ul shine ; 
 is it about the " Chequers " 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh no,' said Gore, almost laughing in spite of himself 
 at the way in which Tom's mind ran on that unhappy 
 incident ; ' it's about another thing altogether.' 
 
 ' What is it ?' asked Tom ; ' do tell me.' 
 
 ' Well, you may as well know,' said Gore ; ' possibly 
 you may be able to find out something for me which will 
 clear matters up. It's precious cold standing about, 
 though ; come and tumble into bed with me, we will have 
 a quiet talk ; that is, if you aren't afraid of getting 
 caught.' 
 
 ' Oh no, I'm not afraid ; none of the fellows are 
 awake, and I can slip back at any time.' 
 
 So the two boys curled themselves up under the bed- 
 clothes, and held a long whispered consultation. Gore 
 told him the whole story, making him, however, promise 
 not to spread it abroad unless he was able to discover
 
 1 20 EXPELLED. 
 
 some point which would make its disclosure advantageous 
 Tom listened very attentively, but could divine no way of 
 proving Gore's innocence ; in fact, it was very improbable 
 that, when Gore himself could not demonstrate his inno- 
 cence, a youngster like Tom should be able to. 
 
 ' You d better be getting back now,' said the elder boy, 
 when he had told him everything. ' Whatever happens to 
 me, you, at any rate, will believe me innocent, and so will 
 most of the other fellows, I think.' 
 
 ' Yes, indeed,' said Tom, ' but I'm afraid that won't be 
 much good. What a beast that Emerton is ! I wish he'd 
 never come near the school.' 
 
 'Oh, never mind about him,' answered Gore lightly; 
 ' look on him as an awful example, and take warning by 
 him. I'd sooner be in my place than his even now, by 
 long chalks.' 
 
 ' Oh, I say, Gore, you're a regular brick ! I wish I was 
 half like you,' said Tom warmly. 
 
 'Oh, nonsense!' answered Gore cheerily ; 'I hope you'll 
 be a good deal better than I am when you're as old as I. 
 Now off you go, or you'll be catching cold.' 
 
 They wrung each other's hands warmly, not knowing 
 whether they would have a chance of meeting again. 
 
 Tom crept back to his bed, and, now that his mind was 
 relieved, soon fell asleep. 
 
 The next day was the dancing-class again. Gore of 
 course was not allowed to go ; he remained shut up in 
 solitude in No. 17. Emerton also was conspicuous by 
 his absence, for Mr. Wiggins had made a formal com- 
 plaint to the Doctor with reference to his conduct at the 
 last class, and the Doctor, after seeing Emerton about it, 
 had decided that it would be on the whole better that he
 
 THE LAST. 121 
 
 should not attend the remaining classes. Emerton had 
 assured him that Mr. Wiggins had entirely misunderstood 
 what he had said, and told him that he would be glad to 
 be relieved of further attendance. 
 
 Goodman did not get on so well that afternoon as he 
 usually did. He was in the habit of looking to Gore for 
 hints as to the movements which he was to make, and 
 in his absence he began to flounder about much in his 
 former style. This roused Mr. Wiggins' displeasure, 
 and, calling Goodman into the centre of the room, he 
 put him through his paces alone. This gave Florence 
 and Cissie the opportunity of asking Tom a question 
 which had been on the tips of their tongues the whole 
 of the afternoon. 
 
 ' Where's Mr. Gore ? ' asked Florrie ; ' he promised to 
 dance with me this afternoon.' 
 
 'Ah yes,' said Eickards, coming up at the same 
 moment ; ' where is he, Tom ? I hear he's in for an awful 
 row ; do you know anything about it ? ' 
 
 Tom decidedly did know, and was only too glad to 
 unburden his mind on the subject. He rapidly gave them 
 the history of the crib, and how Gore had discovered it in 
 the hole in the cliff above the bathing cove. ' Father 
 won't believe it,' he continued, 'and Gore can't prove 
 it, because no one saw him there, and the puzzle is, who on 
 earth could have hidden it there ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, that's rather a poser,' said Kickards ; ' I wonder 
 who on earth it could have been.' 
 
 ' I know ! ' said Florrie suddenly, in an excited whisper ; 
 ' I saw him do it.' 
 
 ' Who ? ' exclaimed Tom and Kickards together. 
 
 'Him/ said Florence, regardless of grammar, pointing
 
 122 
 
 EXPELLED. 
 
 with her finger to Goodman, who was floundering by 
 himself through the steps of the chassez-croisez. 
 ' That fellow ! ' exclaimed Rickards. 
 
 ' Yes,' answered Florrie ; ' I'm sure of it. I was out for 
 a walk with Miss Fletcher' (Miss Fletcher was licr 
 governess) ' when we saw him climbing up the cliff. I'm 
 sure it was he, but he didn't see us, he ran straight off 
 towards home.'
 
 THE LAST. 123 
 
 ' By Jove, we've got it ! ' exclaimed Rickards excitedly. 
 ' Don't say a word about it, Tom, till we get home I'll 
 come home with you.' 
 
 Torn could scarcely contain himself, but he managed to 
 do so. Directly the class was over, he and Rickards 
 rushed out and waited for Goodman. 
 
 ' I say, Goodman,' said Rickards, taking his arm and 
 marching him along, ' we've got something to talk to you 
 about.' 
 
 ' What's the row ? ' inquired Goodman. 
 
 Rickards, without giving Tom a chance to put a word 
 in edgeways, sideways, or any other way, told Goodman 
 the history of Gore's disgrace. ' "We know all about it, 
 you see,' he continued. ' NOAV you'll have to go and tell 
 the Doctor the whole story ; we aren't going to let Gore 
 get expelled for nothing.' 
 
 ' Oh, I say,' said Goodman, ' but I shall get into a jolly 
 row too ! ' 
 
 ' Why, you selfish beggar,' broke out Rickards, 
 ' are you going to let a good fellow be expelled in 
 order to save yourself from getting into a row 1 I tell 
 you what, if you don't go and tell the Doctor at once, 
 I will.' 
 
 ' I didn't say I wasn't going to tell him ! ' returned 
 Goodman sulkily. 'After all,' he said, brightening up, 'I 
 don't suppose I shall get into such a row as that Emerton, 
 it was all his fault.' 
 
 ' I don't care who gets into a row,' chimed in Tom, ' so 
 long as Gore gets out of it.' 
 
 ' In you go now ; don't lose time,' urged Rickards. 
 
 They arrived at the school gates. Rickards never let 
 go of Goodman's arm, but marched him straight into the
 
 124 EXPELLED. 
 
 house, and knocked at the Doctor's private door, asking if 
 they might speak to him just a moment. 
 
 ' Yes,' was the reply. ' What is the matter 1 ' 
 
 Tom and Rickards both began to explain together, and 
 got so mixed up in their excitement, that the Doctor soon 
 had to call upon Tom to continue alone. This he did in an 
 eager and broken manner, making, however, his meaning 
 sufficiently plain to his father. 
 
 'So, Goodman,' said the Doctor, when Tom had 
 finished, ' you were the one to hide the book 1 ' 
 
 'Yes, sir,' replied he; 'I took it out of Emerton's 
 desk, to pay him out.' 
 
 ' To pay him out for what 1 ' 
 
 ' He licked me, sir, at the beginning of the term,' was 
 the answer. 
 
 ' Oh ! so you fought, did you ? ' the Doctor asked. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' said Goodman, almost regretting that he had 
 confessed it. 
 
 ' I shall have a word to say to you about that by-and-by,' 
 said the Doctor. He rang a bell, and sent a message 
 for Emerton to appear before him. 
 
 'Emerton,' said Dr. Russell very sternly, when he 
 came into the room, ' I have received some information 
 which now puts matters in a very different light. I may 
 tell you it will be better for you to make a full confession 
 of everything.' 
 
 Emerton stood for a moment hesitating ; he saw from 
 the Doctor's look that the game was up. His only hope 
 was that he did not know quite so much as he pretended ; 
 he knew that, if he did confess, expulsion would be the 
 inevitable result, so he determined to risk his last chance 
 of escape.
 
 THE LAST. 125 
 
 ' I have nothing to confess, sir, beyond what I told 
 you this morning.' 
 
 'Is that all you have to say?' inquired the Doctor 
 slowly. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' Emerton replied. 
 
 ' Very well,' said the Doctor. ' You can now return to 
 the schoolroom,' he said to the other three boys ; ' you, 
 Emerton, remain here.' 
 
 There is not much more to tell. As Emerton had 
 anticipated, he was expelled. Before he left, he heard 
 the full story of the discovery, and one of his chief 
 regrets in leaving was, that he had no opportunity of 
 paying out Goodman for his tardy revenge on him. 
 
 Needless to state, Gore was speedily sent for and 
 liberated ; the Doctor's confidence in him was perfectly 
 restored, and he assured Gore that he was quite ready to 
 believe that he had never opened the crib from the 
 moment when it came into his possession. Whether 
 Emerton had been expelled or not, the result of the 
 examination would have been the same, for Gore's papers 
 were, in almost every case, superior to those of his rival. 
 
 Tom and Mason had ' a tall time of it ' next day, for 
 Gore, in his gladness of heart at the joyous change in his 
 circumstances, took them down to the village and gave 
 them carte blanche at the ' tuck ' shop, a privilege of which 
 they both availed themselves to an alarming extent. 
 
 The Doctor wrote to Gore's father by the first post, after 
 he had discovered the real state of affairs, unreservedly 
 withdrawing all charges against his son, and stating that 
 in every respect he was more than satisfied with his
 
 126 
 
 EXPELLED. 
 
 conduct, and would be proud for him to remain at East- 
 cote, until it was necessary for him to leave for college. 
 
 After- Emerton's departure the school seemed to take 
 a new lease of life. Goodman never attempted to make a 
 rival of Gore : for one thing, it would have been useless to 
 attempt it ; and for another, he had a great admiration 
 of him an admiration which Gore was able to turn to 
 good use by striving to make a better fellow of him. 
 
 When at the end of the year the school broke up, and 
 Gore left Eastcote for college, there was not a boy who 
 did not regret his departure, not one who did not hope 
 that, at his own farewell to Eastcote, the regrets of his 
 companions might be half as genuine and sincere.
 
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