rs, and for their freshness to the vices they affected.

I do not say I was too good for this company and their practices; or
that Philip was either. Indeed we had more than a mere glimpse of
both, for boys, no matter how studious or how aspiring in the long
run, will see what life they can; will seek the taste of forbidden
fruit, and will go looking for temptations to yield to. Indeed, the
higher a boy's intelligence, the more eager may be his curiosity for,
his first enjoyment of, the sins as well as the other pleasures. What
banished us--Philip and me--from Ned's particular set was, first,
Ned's enmity toward us; second, our attachment to a clan of boys
equally bent on playing the rake in secret, though of better
information and manners than Ned's comrades could boast of; third,
Phil's fondness for books, and mine for him; and finally, our love for
Madge.

This last remained unaltered in both of us. As for Madge, as I had
predicted to myself, she had gradually restored me to my old place in
her consideration as the novelty of Philip's newer devotion had worn
off. We seemed now to be equals in her esteem. At one time Phil would
apparently stand uppermost there, at another I appeared to be
preferred. But this alternating superiority was usually due to casual
circumstance. Sometimes, I suppose, it owed itself to caprice;
sometimes, doubtless, to deep design unsuspected by either of us. Boys
are not men until they are well grown; but women are women from their
first compliment. On the whole, as I have said, Phil and I were very
even rivals.

It was sometime in the winter--Philip's first winter with the
Faringfields--that the next outbreak came, between him and Master
Edward. If ever the broad mansion of the Faringfields looked warm and
welcoming, it was in midwinter. The great front doorway, with its
fanlight above, and its panel windows at each side, through which the
light shone during the long evenings, and with its broad stone steps
and out-curving iron railings, had then its most hospitable aspect.
One evening that it looked particularly inviting to me, was when Ned
and the two girls and I were returning with our skates from an
afternoon spent on Beekman's pond. Large flakes were falling softly on
snow already laid. Darkness had caught up with us on the way home, and
when we came in sight of the cheery light enframing the Faringfields'
wide front door, and showing also from the windows at one side, I was
not sor