r as it's likely to be, then," said Hamilton. "I intend
to send up this poem the last evening, and say nothing about it."

"A likely story!" exclaimed Jones.

"If you don't, I shall, Hamilton," said Salisbury.

"Whoever breathes a word of the matter," cried Hamilton, "ceases from
that moment to be a friend of mine. Whose business is it, I should like
to know--if I choose to throw that unhappy thing on the fire, who is the
loser but myself? What satisfaction can it be to any one to get that boy
into such a mess?"

As Hamilton spoke he disdainfully flung the poem on the table, and
drew the fender, contents and all, on the floor with his fidgety foot.

"The matter comes to this," said Reginald: "it appears that either
Louis must be exposed, or Frank suffer for his delinquencies. It is
not, certainly, fair to Frank, and mustn't be, Hamilton, though Louis
is my brother."

Hamilton cast a bewildered look on Frank.

"True, I had really forgotten Frank. It must be so, then," he said,
in a lower tone.

"No, Hamilton, no!" said Frank; "I won't have you tell of poor Louis.
I don't care a bit about Fudge's suspicions now, _you_ all _know_ I
am clear. Don't say a word about it, I beg."

"Frank, you're a fine fellow!" exclaimed Hamilton, grasping his hand;
"but I don't think it is quite fair."

"Nonsense!" said Frank, gayly; "I owe him something for relieving
me from my situation; and, besides," he added, more gravely, "Louis
deserves a little forbearance from us: none of us would have done
what he did, last half."

"You are right," said Hamilton, warmly; "none of us would, but all of
us have forgotten that lately; even Ferrers, who ought, at least, to
have befriended him, has turned the cold shoulder to him. I feel quite
indignant with Ferrers."

"Ferrers had a little reason to doubt him," said Trevannion.

"What, for letting his name slip out by accident?" said Hamilton,
scornfully; "you heard how he let out Casson's just now--you wouldn't
blame him for that, I imagine?"

"No," said Frank; "and I can tell you that Mrs. Paget (no offence to
her nephew) is one of those dear retailers of all descriptions of news,
that would worm a secret out of a toad in a stone, and Louis hasn't
ready wit enough to manage her."

"He has no presence of mind, and a little vanity," said Hamilton.

"He is as vain as a peacock--a lump of vanity!" exclaimed Norman;
"without an atom of moral courage to stand any persuasion short of
bein