into the Silverburn stream;
there was a great splash, and then ever-widening circles of blue ripple
broke the surface of the water, dying away one by one in the sedges on
the bank. "There," he said, "see how long those ripples last, and how
numerous they are."

Owen understood him. "Poor Williams! What a gleam of new hope there was
in him after Russell's death!"

"Yes, for a time," said Montagu; "heigh ho! I fear we shall never be
warm friends again. We can't be while he goes on as he is doing. And yet
I love him."

A sudden turn of the stream brought them to the place called Riverbend.

"If you want a practical comment on what we've been talking about,
you'll see it there," said Montagu.

He pointed to a party of boys, four or five, all lying on a pleasant
grass bank, smoking pipes. Prominent among them was Eric, stretched at
ease, and looking up at the clouds, towards which curled the puffed
fumes of his meerschaum--a gift of Wildney's. That worthy was beside him
similarly employed.

The two sixth-form boys hoped to pass by unobserved, as they did not
wish for a rencontre with our hero under such circumstances. But they
saw Wildney pointing to them, and, from the fits of laughter which
followed his remarks, they had little doubt that they were the subject
of the young gentleman's wit. This is never a pleasant sensation; but
they observed that Eric made a point of not looking their way, and went
on in silence.

"How very sad!" said Montagu.

"How very contemptible!" said Owen.

"Did you observe what they were doing?"

"Smoking?"

"Worse than that a good deal. They were doing something which, if Eric
doesn't take care, will one day be his ruin."

"What?"

"I saw them drinking. I have little doubt it was brandy."

"Good heavens!"

"It is getting a common practice with some fellows. One of the ripples,
you see, of Brigson's influence."

Before they got home they caught up Wright and Vernon, and walked in
together.

"We've been talking," said Wright, "about a bad matter. Vernon here says
that there's no good working for a prize in his form, because the
cribbing's so atrocious. Indeed, it's very nearly as bad in my form. It
always is under Gordon; he _can't_ understand fellows doing
dishonorable things."

"It's a great bore in the weekly examinations," said Vernon; "every now
and then Gordon will even leave the room for a few minutes, and then out
come dozens of books."

"Well, Wright," said Mon