orking cricketers and distract them in
their game. Hilda, I don't think, minded this little wigging, and Grim
never went without a friendly nod as he turned from cutting Wilson into
the nets, if Miss Hilda Elsie Varley went by.

CHAPTER XXVII

CONCERNING TODD AND COTTON

Knowing Acton's pride--his overwhelming pride--I never expected to see
him back at St. Amory's. I expected that he would almost have moved
heaven and earth and got himself taken off the school books and gone to
complete his education somewhere else rather than come back to the old
place where he had had such a signal thrashing. But, of course, he knew
jolly well that we four had our tongues tied, and that the knowledge of
his defeat was, so to speak, strictly private property; and that is why,
I am pretty sure, he turned up again.

He strolled up and down the High, arm-in-arm with Worcester, in high
good humour, on the day we returned; but when I turned the corner and
came upon him _vis-a-vis_ he gave me a long, level, steady look of
hatred, which told me that he had nursed his wrath to keep it warm. His
look made me thoughtful. Young Jack Bourne, too, came sailing along--a
breezy miniature copy of Phil, his brother--but when he caught sight of
his former patron he blushed like a girl and scuttled into the first
available yard.

[Illustration: HE GAVE ME A LONG, STEADY LOOK OF HATRED.]

He was not particularly anxious to meet Acton, for Phil, in the
holidays, had given Jack a pretty correct inkling of Acton's character,
and he began to see--in fact, he did see--that Raffles and the shooting
and the billiards, and the hocus pocus of "hedging on Grape Shot," and
the trip to London, etc., was only one involved, elaborate plot to
strike at Phil. Jack now fully realized that he had played a very
innocent fly to Acton's consummate spider, and he now, when there wasn't
any very pressing necessity, determined to give the spider's parlour a
very wide berth indeed. Acton saw Jack's little manoeuvre, and smiled
gently. He was genuinely fond of Jack, but young Bourne had served his
purpose; and now, thought Acton, philosophically, "Jack looks upon me as
a monster of iniquity, and he won't cultivate my acquaintance." And
Phil? Well, Phil regarded the incident as "closed," and paid no heed to
his enemy's bitter looks, but divided his attention between his books
and cricket, keeping, perhaps unnecessarily, a bright outlook upon
Master Jack.

Todd had