he_ was going to do. Then, possibly, Dick might show
his hand.

"I've decided not to show up at the levee," said Georgie, on the morning
of the eventful day.

"Have you?" said Dick, with a most provoking indifference.

"Yes," said the cunning Georgie. "I tell you what, Dick; while it's
going on, you and I can get the top court and play off our heat for the
handicap. What do you say?"

"Don't know."

Whereupon, Heathcote wished that two words in the English language could
be suspended, and went off to see if any comfort was going in the Den.
But no.

"What's Dick going to do?" asked almost everybody.

"He doesn't know," groaned Heathcote.

Whereupon, the Den, as well as Georgie, wished ill to those two unlucky
words.

The morning passed, and still no ray of light illumined the doubters.
Dick got twenty lines from Pledge for jumping over the geranium bed in
the Quad, and knocking off a flower in the act; and every one guessed
this would decide him against the levee.

But at dinner-time a rumour spread, on the authority of Coote, that he
had put on a clean collar since morning school, and public opinion
immediately veered round to the opposite direction. No sooner, however,
was dinner done than he was seen to fetch his tennis racket from his
study; and once more it was surmised that he was going, after all, to
play off his heat with Georgie instead of attending the ceremony. And
that supposition was in turn dashed to the ground, when it was
discovered that he had got the bat in order to give it to a messenger
from Splicers, the racket maker, to be tightened up in the top cord.

Afternoon school dragged tediously on, and the Den grew desperate.
Fellows went off to dress. But what was the use of Heathcote putting on
his choker, or Smith and Pauncefote parting their hairs, when they
didn't know whether they were going to the levee or not?

Heathcote made one final effort to "draw" the Sphinx.

"Come on," said he, "we'll bag the court if we are sharp, and get an
hour's quiet play."

"I've got no racket," said Dick.

"I say, Dick, _are_ you going to the levee--do tell us?"

"I don't know. What do you want to know for?"

"I--I vote we don't go," said Georgie, coaxingly. "I'm not going."

"I know that."

"Are you?" and there was a tone of desperate pathos in the boy's voice.

"Haven't I told you, a hundred and fifty times, I _don't know_?" replied
Dick, scarcely less desperate.

Heathcote gave