eling that any one was surprised,
or that any one was shocked. Pledge did not distinctly tempt him to do
anything; and yet, during that one short week, the boy's moral sense was
more deeply undermined than during the whole of the term that had
passed. The clear line between good and evil vanished. And, seeing the
two side by side, and hearing his companion's constant sneers at
"sanctity," it became natural to him to suspect the good and, of the
two, prefer the evil.

So Georgie Heathcote went back to Templeton the worse for his holidays,
and snared faster than ever in the "Spider's" web.

But the sight of Dick on the Templeton platform drove all his unhealthy
philosophy for a time from his mind, and when, an hour later, the train
from G--- came in and discharged Coote and Coote's hat-box and
travelling-bag, there was joy in the hearts of those three old Mountjoy
boys, which could not find vent in mere smiles or words of greeting.

Coote was in a horrible flutter, despite the countenance of his two
protectors. He could not trust himself out of their sight. As they
walked up from the station and crossed the Quadrangle, he suspected a
snare everywhere, and sniffed an enemy at every corner.

"Come on, old fellow," said Dick, in all the glory of an old hand,
"stick your hat on the back of your head, and make a face at everybody
you meet, and nobody will humbug you."

Coote had his doubts of this advice; but, it occurred to him, if it
should be good, he had better make the experiment while his friends were
there to protect him.

So he tilted his hat cautiously back, and timidly protruded his tongue
at Culver, whom they met staggering under the weight of a carpet bag,
near the housekeeper's door.

Culver regarded the demonstration with a certain amount of bewildered
disfavour, and, to Coote's terror, looked for a moment like putting down
his carpet bag. But the presence of Dick and Heathcote deterred him for
the present, and he contented himself with a promise that tilted the new
boy's hat back into its proper elevation with wonderful celerity.

"Never mind him," said Heathcote, "he always doubles up after five or
six rounds."

"Do you mean he will fight me?" asked Coote.

"Bless you, yes!"

"To-day, do you think?"

"Don't know. Depends on what he's got in his bag. If it's a cargo, he
won't be out for a couple of nights."

All this was very alarming to Coote, who devoutly hoped Culver's "cargo"
might b