hours of his holiday by "sleeping
in," until the boom of the Chapel bell shot him headlong out of bed into
his garments.

Coote, who had not yet mastered the art of venturing into Chapel alone,
grew more and more pale as the hand of the clock crawled on, and the
desperate alternative loomed before him, either of sharing his
unpunctual friend's fate, or else of facing the exploit of walking
unaided into his stall in the presence of gazing Templeton.

He had almost made up his heroic mind to the latter course, when a
sound, as of coals being shot into a cellar, broke the stillness of the
morning air; and next moment, Heathcote descended the stairs at the rate
of five steps a second.

"Come on, you idiot; put it on!" he cried, as he reached Coote, and
swept him forward towards the Chapel.

It was a close shave. Swinstead was shutting the door as Heathcote got
his first foot in, and, but that the usher was unprepared for the
desperate assault of the two juniors, and lost a second in looking to
see what was the matter, Coote would have scored his first bad mark, and
Heathcote's name would have figured, for the fifth or sixth time that
term, on the monitor's black list.

As the latter young gentleman had nothing but his trousers, slippers,
and coat on over his nightshirt, he deemed it prudent to bolt as soon as
chapel was over, so as to elude the vigilant eyes of the authorities.
He, therefore, saw nothing of Dick as he came out; and Dick, as we have
seen, had too much on hand, just then, to see him.

At length, however, when the toilet was complete, and the glorious
liberty from lessons began to swell our heroes' breasts, Heathcote's
thoughts turned to Dick.

"Where's old Dick?" said he to Coote; "did you see him at breakfast?"

"Yes; he was at the other table. But I didn't see where he went
afterwards."

Heathcote didn't like it. Dick had done him a bad turn yesterday over
that levee business, and the least he could have done to-day would have
been to find him out and make things jolly again.

But, instead of that, he had vanished, and left it to Heathcote to find
him out. "Go and see where he is," said he to Coote.

The meek Coote obeyed, and took a cursory trot round the School Fields
in search of his leader. No Dick was there, and no one had seen him.

Heathcote's face grew longer as he heard the report. It was getting
serious. Dick was not only ill-treating him; he was cutting him.

He went off to