down the
bay, and talked over the term and the examination.

They sat down on a green bank just beyond the beach, and watched the
tide come in, while the sea-distance was crimson with the glory of
evening. The beauty and the murmur filled them with a quiet happiness,
not untinged with the melancholy thought of parting the next day.

At last Eric broke the silence. "Russell, let me always call you Edwin,
and call me Eric."

"Very gladly, Eric. Your coming here has made me so happy." And the two
boys squeezed each other's hands, and looked into each other's faces,
and silently promised that they would be loving friends for ever.

CHAPTER V

THE SECOND TERM

"Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil our vines; for our
vines have tender grapes."--CANT. ii. 15.

The second term at school is generally the great test of the strength of
a boy's principles and resolutions. During the first term the novelty,
the loneliness, the dread of unknown punishments, the respect for
authorities, the desire to measure himself with his companions--all tend
to keep him right and diligent. But many of these incentives are removed
after the first brush of novelty, and many a lad who has given good
promise at first, turns out, after a short probation, idle, or vicious,
or indifferent.

But there was little comparative danger for Eric, so long as he
continued to be a home boarder, which was for another half-year. On the
contrary, he was anxious to support in his new remove the prestige of
having been head boy; and as he still continued under Mr. Gordon, he
really wished to turn over a new leaf in his conduct towards him, and
recover, if possible, his lost esteem.

His popularity was a fatal snare. He enjoyed and was very proud of it,
and was half inclined to be angry with Russell for not fully sharing his
feelings; but Russell had a far larger experience of school life than
his new friend, and dreaded with all his heart lest "he should follow a
multitude to do evil."

The "cribbing," which had astonished and pained Eric at first, was more
flagrant than even in the Upper Fourth, and assumed a chronic form. In
all the repetition lessons one of the boys used to write out in a large
hand the passage to be learnt by heart, and dexterously pin it to the
front of Mr. Gordon's desk. There any boy who chose could read it off
with little danger of detection, and, as before, the only boys who
refused to avail themselves of t