re. At any rate I'll chance it." And off the
boys ran to the racquet-court, Eric intending to occupy the last quarter
of an hour before school-time in learning his lesson. Russell and he
stood the other two, and they were very well matched. They had finished
two splendid games, and each side had been victorious in turn, when
Duncan, in the highest spirits, shouted, "Now, Russell, for the
conqueror."

"Get some one else in my place," said Russell; "I don't know my
Repetition, and must cut and learn it."

"Oh, bother the Repetition," said Montagu, "somebody's sure to write it
out in school, and old Gordon'll never see."

"You forget, Montagu, I don't deign to crib. It isn't fair."

"Oh ay, I forgot. Well, after all, you're quite right; I only wish I
was as good."

"What a capital fellow he is," continued Montagu, leaning on his racquet
and looking after him, as Russell left the court. "But I say, Williams,
you're not going too, are you?"

"I think I must, I don't know half my lesson."

"Oh no, I don't go; there's Llewellyn; he'll take Russell's place, and
we _must_ have the conquering game."

Again Eric yielded; and when the clock struck, he ran into school, hot,
vexed with himself and certain to break down, just as Russell strolled
in, whispering, "I've had lots of time to get up the Horace, and know it
pat."

Still he clung to the little thistledown of hope that he should have
plenty of time to cram it before the form were called up. But another
temptation waited him. No sooner was he seated than Graham whispered,
"Williams, it's your turn to write out the Horace; I did last time, you
know."

Poor Eric! He was reaping the fruits of his desire to keep up
popularity, which had prevented him from expressing a manly disapproval
of the general cheating. Everybody seemed to assume now that _he_ at
any rate didn't think much of it, and he had never claimed his real
right up to that time of asserting his innocence. But this was a step
farther than he had ever gone before. He drew back--

"My _turn_, what do you mean?"

"Why, you know as well as I do that we all write it out by turns."

"Do you mean to say Owen or Russell ever wrote it out?"

"Of course not; you wouldn't expect the saints to be guilty of such a
thing, would you?"

"I'd rather not, Graham," he said, getting very red.

"Well, that _is_ cowardly," answered Graham angrily; "then I suppose I
must do it myself."

"Here, I'll do it,"