kes boys selfish and cruel as well as men.

"That's true--we always draw blanks," cried one. "Now, sir, you shall
sell half, at any rate."

"I won't," said Tom, flushing up to his hair, and lumping them all in
his mind with his sworn enemy.

ROASTING A FAG.

"Very well, then, let's roast him," cried Flashman, and catches hold
of Tom by the collar; one or two of the boys hesitate, but the rest
join in. East seizes Tom's arm and tries to pull him away, but he is
knocked back by one of the boys, and Tom is dragged along struggling.
His shoulders are pushed against the mantle-piece, and he is held by
main force before the fire. Poor East, in more pain even than Tom,
suddenly thinks of Diggs, and darts off to find him. "Will you sell
now for ten shillings?" says one boy who is relenting.

Tom only answers by groans and struggles.

"I say, Flashey, he has had enough," says the same boy, dropping the
arm he holds.

"No, no, another turn'll do it," answers Flashman. But poor Tom is
done already, turns deadly pale, and his head falls forward on his
breast, just as Diggs, in frantic excitement, rushes into the Hall
with East at his heels.

"You cowardly brutes!" is all he can say as he catches Tom from them
and supports him to the Hall table. "Good God! he's dying. Here, get
some cold water--run for the housekeeper."

Flashman and one or two others slink away; the rest, ashamed and
sorry, bend over Tom or run for water, while East darts off for the
housekeeper. Water comes, and they throw it on his hands and face,
and he begins to come to. "Mother!"--the words came feebly and
slowly--"it's very cold to-night." Poor old Diggs is blubbering like a
child. "Where am I?" goes on Tom, opening his eyes. "Ah! I remember
now," and he shut his eyes again and groaned.

"I say," is whispered, "we can't do any more good, and the housekeeper
will be here in a minute," and all but one steal away; he stays with
Diggs, silent and sorrowful, and fans Tom's face.

The housekeeper comes in with strong salts, and Tom soon recovers
enough to sit up. There is a smell of burning; she examines his
clothes, and looks up inquiringly. The boys are silent.

"How did he come so?" No answer.

"There's been some bad work here," she adds, looking very serious,
"and I shall speak to the Doctor about it." Still no answer.

"Hadn't we better carry him to the sick-room?" suggests Diggs.

"Oh, I can walk now," says Tom; and, supported by East and