r names called upon to come forward and occupy that memorable
front desk in the Sixth Form room.

This time at any rate there had been no chance for any one to take an
unfair advantage, for the Doctor's papers did not reach Saint Dominic's
till the morning of the examination. Indeed, Mr Jellicott was opening
the envelope which contained them when the boys entered the room.

Any one closely observing the three boys as they glanced each down his
paper would once more have been struck by the strange contrast in their
faces. Oliver's, as his eyes glanced rapidly down the page, was
composed and immovable; Wraysford's, as he looked first at his paper and
then hurriedly at Oliver and Loman, was perplexed and troubled; Loman's
was blank and pale and desponding.

But of the three, the happiest that morning was Wraysford--not that he
was sure of success, not that his conscience was clear of all reproach,
but because, as he sat there, working hard himself and hearing some
one's pen on his left flying with familiar sound quickly over the paper,
he felt at last absolutely sure that he had misjudged his friend, and
equally resolved that, come what would of it, and humiliating as the
confession would be, he would, before that day ended, be reconciled to
Oliver Greenfield. What mattered it to him, then, who won the
exhibition? Loman might win it for all _he_ cared, as long as he won
back his friend.

However, Loman at that moment did not look much like winning anything.
If he had been in difficulties in the former examination, he was utterly
stranded now. He tried first one question, then another, but no
inspiration seemed to come; and at last, after dashing off a few lines
at random, he laid down his pen, and, burying his face in his hands,
gave himself up to his own wretched thoughts. He must see Cripps soon;
he must go to him or Cripps would come up to Saint Dominic's, and then--

Well, Loman did not do much execution that morning, and was thankful
when presently Mr Jellicott said, "Time will be up in five minutes,
boys."

The announcement was anything but welcome to the other two competitors,
both of whom were writing, hammer and tongs, as though their lives
depended on it. Loman looked round at them and groaned as he looked.
Why should they be doing so well and he be doing so ill?

"Look at those two beggars!" said Callonby to Stansfield, in a whisper,
pointing to Wraysford and Oliver. "There's a neck-and-neck race