into a lengthy and animated account of his
experiences, to which Tom pretended to listen, but scarcely heard a
word.

"So you are fond of fishing?" he said, casually, after the boy had
mentioned something on that subject.

"Ain't I, though?" cried Charlie, now quite happy, and his old self
again. "I say, Tom Drift, would you like to see the new lance-wood top
I've got to my rod? It's a stunner, I can tell you. I'll lend it you,
you know, any time you like."

"Have you caught much since you were here!" asked Tom, anxious to get
this hateful business over.

"No. You know the brook here isn't a good one for fish, and I don't
know anywhere else near."

"Well, I'll tell you what," said Tom, as if the idea had then for the
first time occurred to him. "Suppose we go off for a regular good day
on Saturday? It's a holiday, you know, and we could go and try up the
Sharle, near Gurley. There's lots of trout there, and we are certain to
have a good day."

"How jolly!" exclaimed Charlie. "It would be grand. But I say, Tom
Drift, are you sure you wouldn't mind coming? It wouldn't be a bother
to you, would it?"

"Not a bit. I like a good day's fishing. But, I say, young un, you'd
better not say anything about it to any one, or we shall have a swarm of
fellows come too, and that will spoil all the sport."

"All right," said Charlie. "I say what a day we shall have! I'll bring
my watch and knife, you know, and some grub, and we can picnic there,
eh?"

"That'll be splendid. Well, I must go in now, so good-bye, Newcome, and
shake hands."

What a grip was that! on one side all trust and fervour, and on the
other all fraud and malice!

Tom Drift was not yet utterly bad. Would that he had allowed his
conscience to speak and his better self prevail! Half a dozen times in
the course of his walk from the playground to the school he repented of
the wicked part he was playing in the scheme to injure Charlie. But
half a dozen times the thought of Gus and his taunts, and the
recollection of his own bruised forehead came to drive out all passing
sentiments of pity or remorse.

Charlie rejoined his chum with a beaming face.

"Well," asked Jim, "what has he been saying to humbug you this time?"

"Nothing very particular; and I won't let you call him a humbug. I say,
Jim, old boy, he's made it up at last, and we're friends, Tom Drift and
I! Hurrah! I was never so glad, isn't it jolly?"

Jim by no means shared