strolled off in an opposite direction.

"Richardson! do you hear?" once more shouted the invisible Braider.

Dick walked on in the dusk, wondering to himself whether Braider would
get into a row for kicking up that uproar in the Quad.

At last, after one final shout, he heard the door slam. Then he
quickened his pace, and made for Cresswell's study.

On the staircase he met Aspinall.

"I heard some one calling you out in the Quad.," said the small boy.

"Did you?" replied Dick. "I wonder who it can have been? Is Cresswell
in his study?"

"No."

"All serene. Come back with me. Have you done your swot?"

"Yes, I did my lessons an hour ago."

"Oh!" said Dick, and strode on, followed somewhat dubiously by his young
_protege_.

"Shut the door," said Dick, sternly, as they entered the study.

"Whatever is going to happen to me?" ejaculated the small boy, inwardly,
as he obeyed. Dick had never spoken to him like this before. Had he
offended him unwittingly? Had he been disloyal to his sovereignty?

Dick walked to the fireplace, and, pulling a letter from his pocket,
read it through twice, apparently heedless of his subject's presence.
Then he looked up suddenly, and, crushing the paper viciously back into
his pocket, stared hard at his perturbed companion.

"Young Aspinall," said he, sharply, "do you say I'm a fool?"

"Oh, no," replied the boy, staggered by the very suggestion, "I should
never think of saying such a thing."

"Should you say I was a blackguard?"

"No, indeed, Dick. No one could say that."

The hero's face brightened. There was a warmth in Aspinall's voice
which touched the most sensitive side of his nature. Dick would have
liked the ghost to be near to hear it.

"Should you say I've let myself be led astray, and made a mess of it
here, at Templeton?"

"No, Dick, I don't think so," said the boy.

"What do you mean? _don't think_. Have I, or have I not?" demanded
Dick.

It was a delicate position for the timorous small boy. He had had his
misgivings about Dick, and seen a change in him, not, as he thought, for
the better. But the idea of telling him so to his face was as much as
his peace was worth. Yet he must either tell the truth, or a lie, and
when it came to that, Aspinall could not help himself.

"You are the best friend I've got," said he, nervously, "and I'd give
anything to be as brave as you; but--"

"Well, wire in," said Dick, tearing to bits one of Cresswe