not a boy here
believes you to be guilty. How the note came into your hands we don't
know and we don't care, but we are certain you did not take it."

"No! no!" was shouted in a chorus.

"So keep up your spirits, old fellow," Harris said, "it will come right
sooner or later."

For some time Frank was unable to speak.

"Thank you all," he said at last, in a choking voice, "it is a
consolation to me indeed to know that my old friends still believe in
me; but, till my innocence is proved, I shall never be able to look the
world in the face again."

"Come, boys, this will not do," a voice at the door said; "Harris, you
elder boys ought to set a better example to the younger ones. I told you
that the Doctor's orders were positive that no one was to communicate
with Norris."

"I can't help it, sir," Harris said; "we all felt we couldn't go to bed
to-night without telling Norris that we knew he was innocent."

"Well, well, you must go downstairs now,"--not unkindly; "you must not
stay a minute longer." There was a chorus of "Good night, Norris!" "Good
night, old fellow!" "Keep up your pluck!" and various other encouraging
expressions, and the party filed out of the door; Mr. Richards waited to
see the last out, and then left Frank to his thoughts.

Not till ten o'clock did Frank give up all hope of hearing from his
uncle, then he felt he had been condemned.

"All my school-fellows acquit me, and my uncle, who should know me
better than any of them, condemns me. I wonder what Alice said. I don't
believe she would believe me guilty if all the world told her."

At this moment the door opened quietly again, and Fred Barkley entered.
Frank leapt to his feet to see if he was the bearer of a letter.

Fred shook his head in answer to the unasked question. "I have slipped
out of College to see you, Frank, and Richards has given me leave to
come up. I have no news, I only came to see what you were going to do."

"You posted the letter to my uncle, Fred?" he asked.

"Yes, at once," he replied.

Frank was silent.

"What do you mean to do?" Fred went on.

"Do?" Frank asked, "what do you mean?"

"Why, I suppose you don't mean to stop here until to-morrow."

"I don't know," Frank replied, "I had not thought about it."

"I shouldn't, if I were in your place. It would be a fearful business;
there hasn't been a boy expelled from Westminster for the last thirty
years. I shouldn't stop for it if I were you."

"But what a