The following morning I rose only half refreshed, and made my way
anxiously to the office. One of the first fellows I met was Wallop, who
greeted my approach with a surly grin.

I felt sure at that moment he had meant what he threatened yesterday,
and my heart quailed within me at the prospect.

"Well, young prig," said he, "I suppose you've brought my money?"

"No," said I; "I'm afraid I must ask you to wait a little longer. I
hope you won't do anything for a day or two, at any rate. I will do my
best to get it by then."

He laughed in my face, and evidently enjoyed my distress.

"You sung a different tune yesterday, my boy, when you hit me. Do you
remember? That wasn't the payment I wanted!"

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," said I.

"Well, I mean to show you I pay my debts more punctually than you do,"
said he; and with that he gave me a cuff on my head which sent me
reeling half across the office.

I could not--I dare not--return it, and he knew it.

"There," said he, laughing brutally; "now we're quits! As to that
thirty shillings, I'll let you off, as it has been paid me."

"Paid you!" I exclaimed, in utter bewilderment. "Who by?"

"Hawkesbury!"

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

HOW I BEGAN TO SEE DAYLIGHT THROUGH MY TROUBLES.

Those of my readers who have read their Virgil will most likely remember
an observation made by one of the gentlemen who figure conspicuously in
the story of the _Aeneid_. He dreaded his hereditary enemies, the
Greeks, under any circumstances; but he never dreaded them so much as
when they came and offered him presents!

This was pretty much my feeling when I was told that my debt to Wallop
had been paid for me by Hawkesbury.

There had been a time in my life when I almost liked Hawkesbury. More
recently I had suspected him of being not quite the angel I once
believed him. Later still I had felt my suspicion grow to very decided
dislike. And now, at the moment when he made me his debtor for thirty
shillings, I positively loathed him.

I could not guess his motive. I was certain it was not out of pure love
for me or pity for Wallop. Indeed, I was pretty certain there was far
more mischief than good in the action. I would sooner have owed Wallop
thirty pounds than Hawkesbury thirty shillings. He knew it, too, and
for that very reason paid my debt to Wallop.

"Whatever business of Hawkesbury's is it?" I demanded of Wallop, as
soon as I could find words to express