when we've
gone."

"You be hanged," observed Percy, now in an uncomplimentary mood;
"haven't I told you I'm not coming? What more do you want?"

"Oh, of course, if you're so taken up with this reverend thing of
beauty," said one of them sulkily, "we're out of it. I should have
thought he could have snuffled to himself for a day without wanting you
to help him."

Scarfe all this time stood by in a rage. The sight of Jeffreys was to
him like the dead fly in the apothecary's ointment. It upset him and
irritated him with everybody and everything. He had guessed, on
receiving no reply to his recent polite letter, that he had exposed his
own poor hand to his enemy, and he hated him accordingly with a double
hatred.

He contrived, however, to keep up an appearance of scornful
indifference.

"You are still reaping the rewards of virtue, pious homicide," he
sneered.

"I still envy the upright man who does his duty," replied Jeffreys,
scarcely less bitterly.

"What do you mean, you--"

"I mean what I say," said Jeffreys, turning on his heel, and taking
Percy's arm.

They walked home, and before Clarges Street was reached Percy had told
his friend an unvarnished story of the follies of the last few days, and
enlisted his support in his determination to pull up.

There was something touching in the mingled shame and anger of the proud
boy as he made his confession, not sparing himself, and full of scorn at
those who had tempted him. Jeffreys was full of righteous wrath on his
behalf, and ran up a score against Scarfe which would have astonished
that worthy, listlessly loafing about at Windsor, had he guessed it.

"I've promised to go and see the Boat Race with them," said Percy; "but
you must come too. I know you'll hate it, and so will they; but somehow
I can't do without a little backing up."

"I'll back you up, old fellow, all I can, I only wish," added he, for
the boy's confidence in him humiliated him, "I had a better right to do
it."

"Why, Jeff, I don't suppose you ever did a bad thing in your life."

"Don't say that," said Jeffreys almost appealingly, "I have!"

The boy looked up at him, startled for a moment by his tone. Then he
said, with a return of his old look of confidence--

"Poor old Jeff! That's what makes you so blue sometimes. If it weren't
for you, I'd have a precious good right to be in the blues too."

Jeffreys, who had not entered the house since his interview with Mrs
Rimbo