rs your question. Make life easier and happier for
some of the new boys. Pass on gratitude. Set it a-rolling. See?"

John had appetite for such talk, but Warde never gave much of it--half a
dozen sentences, a smile, a nod of the head, a keen look, and a striding
off elsewhere. But when John repeated what Warde had said to Caesar, that
young gentleman looked uneasy.

"Warde means well," he said; "and he's doing wonders with the Manor, but
I hope he's not going to make a sort of tin parson of you?"

"As if he could!" said John.

"You're miles ahead of me, Jonathan."

"No, no."

"I say--yes."

"Caesar," said John, in desperation, "perhaps we _are_ sliding apart, but
it isn't my fault, indeed it isn't. And think what it means to--me.
You've heaps of friends, and I never was first, I know that. You can do
without me, but I can't do without you."

"Dear old Jonathan." Caesar held out his hand, smiling.

"I'm a jealous ass, Caesar. And, as for calling me a parson," he laughed
scornfully, "why, I'd sooner walk with you, even if you were the worst
sinner in the world, than with any saint that ever lived."

The feeling in John's voice drove Caesar's gay smile from his face. Did
he realize, possibly, for the first time, that if John and he remained
friends, he might drag John down? Suddenly his face brightened.

"Jonathan," he said gravely, "to please you, I'll not touch a card again
this term, and we'll have such good times these last three weeks that
you'll forget the rest of it."

"And what delights can equal those
That stir the spirit's inner deeps,
When one that loves but knows not reaps
A truth from one that loves and knows?"

The Manor played in the cock-house match at cricket, being but barely
beaten by Damer's. Everybody admitted that this glorious state of
affairs was due to Warde's coaching of the weaker members of the Eleven.
Scaife fielded brilliantly, and John, watching him, said to himself that
at such times the Demon was irresistible. Warde invited the Eleven to
dinner, and spoke of nothing but football, much to every one's
amusement.

"He's right," said the Caterpillar; "we're not cock-house at cricket
this year, but we may be at footer."

John spent his holidays abroad with his mother, and when the School
reassembled, he found himself in the First Fifth _alone_. With
satisfaction he reflected that this was Lovell's last term, and
Beaumont-Greene's, too. Warde said a few wor