bet two to one on the young 'un to start with."

The wine-merchant said he would go double that on Pillans, whereupon the
sporting man offered a five-pound note against a half-sovereign on his
man, and called out to have the room cleared and a sponge brought in.

How far his scientific enthusiasm would have been rewarded it is hard to
say, for Blandford at this juncture most inconsiderately interposed.

"No, no," said he, "I'm not going to have the place made a cock-pit.
Shut up, Pillans, and don't make an ass of yourself; and you, Cruden,
cut off. What did you ever come here for? See what a row you've made."

"It wasn't I made the row," said Horace. "I'm awfully sorry, Bland.
I'd advise you to cut that friend of yours, I say. He's an idiot.
Good-bye."

And while the horse-racer and the wine-merchant were still discussing
preliminaries, and Mr Pillans was privately ascertaining whether his
nose was bleeding, Horace departed in peace, partly amused, partly
vexed, and decidedly of opinion that Blandford had taken to keeping very
queer company since he last saw him.

The great thing was that Horace could now write and report to Reg that
the debt had been paid.

His way home led him past the _Rocket_ office. It was half-past ten,
and the place looked dark and deserted. Even the lights in the editor's
windows were out, and the late hands had gone home. Just at the corner
Horace encountered Gedge, one of the late hands in question.

"Hullo, young 'un!" he said. "Going home?"

"Yes, I'm going home," said young Gedge.

"I heard from my brother yesterday. He was asking after you."

"Was he?" said the boy half-sarcastically. "He does remember my name,
then?"

"Whatever do you mean? Of course he does," said Horace. "You know that
well enough."

"I shouldn't have known it unless you'd told me," said Gedge, with a
cloud on his face; "he's never sent me a word since he left."

"He's been awfully busy--he's scarcely had time to write home. I say,
young 'un, what's the row with you? What makes you so queer?"

"Oh, I don't know," said the boy wearily; "I used to fancy somebody
cared for me, but I was mistaken. I was going to the dogs fast enough
when Cruden came here; I pulled up then, because I thought he'd stand by
me; but now he's gone and forgotten all about me. I'll--well, there's
nothing to prevent me going to the bad; and I may as well make up my
mind to it."

"No, no," said Horace, taking his a