are some Latin verses for Westover, too."

"Leave them with me, too."

Heathcote felt uncomfortable, and it occurred to him it was not right to
accept another's help.

"I think I ought to do them myself," said he, "I don't like having them
done for me."

"Quite right, my dear young friend. You're beginning to find out it
pays to be a good little boy, are you? I always said you would. I only
hope you'll make a good thing of it."

Heathcote coloured up violently.

"It's not that at all," said he, "it's only-- would it do if I went
after preparation this evening?"

"What! Saint George propose to break rules? Well, I am shocked; after
all my pains, too. No, my child, I couldn't let you do this wicked
thing."

"What book am I to ask for?" said Heathcote, giving it up.

"Thanks, old man. There's something better than the saint in you, after
all. Tell Webster it's the book I ordered last week. It is paid for."

Heathcote started on his mission with a heavy heart. He had lost caste,
he feared, with Pledge, and he was running into the enemy's country and
perilling not only himself, but Dick, in the venture.

He made fearful and wonderful detours to avoid a few straggling
policemen, or any figure which in the distance looked remotely like a
British seaman. The sight of a shopkeeper sitting at his door and
reading the _Templeton Observer_ scared him, and the bill offering a
reward for his discovery all but drove him headlong back to the school
without accomplishing his mission.

At length, after an anxious voyage, he ran into Mr Webster's harbour,
and for a little while breathed again.

The bookseller knew quite well what book Pledge had ordered.

"Here it is," said he, handing over a small parcel, "and I'd advise you
to get rid of it as soon as you can. It would do you no good to be
found in your pocket, or Mr Pledge either," he added.

"He says it's paid for," said Heathcote.

"Quite right." Then, noticing that the boy still seemed reluctant to
launch forth once more into the High Street, he said--

"Perhaps you'd like to look round the shop, Mr Heathcote?"

Heathcote thought he would, and spent a quarter of an hour in
investigating Mr Webster's shelves of books.

Just as he was about to leave, Duffield and the "sociable" Raggles
entered the shop.

"Hullo, Georgie!" said the latter; "who'd have thought of seeing you in
the town? Everyone says you're keeping out of the way of the police,
do