hom he had passed so triumphantly,
and, for a little while, he had no heart to exert himself.

This was conquered by the strong will and self-rebuke for having merely
craved for applause, but, in the play-ground, he found himself still
alone-the other boys who had been raised by his fall shrank from
intercourse with one whom they had injured by their silence, and the
Andersons, who were wont to say the Mays carried every tale home, and
who still almost expected interference from Dr. May, hardly believed
their victory secure, and the younger one, at least, talked spitefully,
and triumphed in the result of May's meddling and troublesome over
strictness. "Such prigs always come to a downfall," was the sentiment.

Norman found himself left out of everything, and stood dispirited and
weary on the bank of the river, wishing for Harry, wishing for Cheviot,
wishing that he had been able to make a friend who would stand by
him, thinking it could not be worse if he had let his father reinstate
him--and a sensation of loneliness and injustice hung heavy at his
heart.

His first interruption was a merry voice. "I say, June, there's no
end of river cray-fish under that bank," and Larkins's droll face was
looking up at him, from that favourite position, half stooping, his
hands on his knees, his expression of fun trying to conceal his real
anxiety and sympathy.

Norman turned and smiled, and looked for the cray-fish, and, at the same
time, became aware of Hector Ernescliffe, watching for an opportunity to
say, "I have a letter from Alan." He knew they wanted, as far as little
boys ventured to seek after one so much their elder, to show themselves
his friends, and he was grateful; he roused himself to hear about Alan's
news, and found it was important--his great friend, Captain Gordon, had
got a ship, and hoped to be able to take him, and this might lead to
Harry's going with him. Then Norman applied himself to the capture of
cray-fish, and Larkins grew so full of fun and drollery, that the hours
of recreation passed off less gloomily than they had begun.

If only his own brother would have been his adherent! But he saw almost
nothing of Tom. Day after day he missed him, he was off before him in
going and returning from school, and when he caught a sight of his face,
it looked harassed, pale, and miserable, stealing anxious glances after
him, yet shrinking from his eye. But, at the same time, Norman did not
see him mingling with