It certainly did occur to me on this bright frosty morning
that it would be exhilarating both for young Odger and me if I were to
go after him and kick him. But what was the use? He would enjoy it as
much as I should. There would be plenty of ways in which to pay him out
less fatiguing than an undignified chase round the playground. So I let
him go, and grinned to think how much nicer monkeys are when they behave
like monkeys, and not like men.

I had a lot of work to do in my study that morning before afternoon
school, and so had very little time to think of Odger junior, or any one
else. As it was, I was only just in time to take my usual place in the
Greek class when Mr Draven sailed into the room and the lesson began.

I had been so flurried by my hasty arrival that I did not at first
observe that the desk on my right, usually occupied by a boy called
Potter, was vacant.

"Where's Potter?" I asked of my neighbour on the left. "Is he--why,
there he is at Browne's old desk!" I added, catching sight of the
deserter across the room.

Browne's desk had always been left empty since its late owner went.
None of us had cared to appropriate it, and the sight of it day after
day had fed our sorrow over his loss. It seemed to me, therefore, an
act almost of disloyalty on Potter's part towards the memory of my old
chum to install himself coolly at his desk without saying a word to
anybody.

"What's he gone there for?" I inquired of Sadgrove on my left. "He's
got no--"

"Don't talk to me!" said Sadgrove.

Sadgrove was in a temper, and I wasn't surprised. So was I, lazy as I
was. We had all stuck to Browne through the term, and it was a little
too much now to find a fellow like Potter, who professed to be Browne's
friend too, stepping in this cold-blooded way into his place. Sadgrove
was put up to construe, so there was no opportunity for further
conversation, had we desired it.

I wasn't surprised that Potter avoided me in the playground after
school. He guessed, I supposed, what I had to say to him, and had the
decency to be ashamed of himself. However, I was determined to have it
out, and that evening, after preparation, went up to his study. He was
there, and looked guilty enough when he saw me.

"Look here, Potter," I began, trying to be friendly in spite of all. I
got no further, for Potter, without a word, walked out of the door,
leaving me standing alone in the middle of his study.

I had se