nted seriousness.
"I'm not a saint, and don't profess to be. And I may not be able to
manage my own affairs, to judge by what you and half a dozen other of
the fellows seem to think; but I don't want to see you--well, come to
grief--and that's what you're likely to do if you let that fellow get
hold of you."

"He's not got hold of me," said I, feeling a little hurt once more.
"Mayn't I be civil to a fellow, even? Why, he was saying if you--"

"Shut up! didn't I tell you I don't want to hear?" said he.

"Oh, all right."

If he had only vouchsafed to tell me why he disliked Crofter, or if he
had given his counsel in a less authoritative way, it would have been
different. He would not even let me repeat the friendly remarks Crofter
had made about him; and was determined neither to say a good word for
the fellow himself, nor let me say one.

The consequence was that our interview ended in my wishing once more I
had confined myself to my own quarters and let ill alone.

My companions were not long in discovering that something was on my
mind, and in their gentle way tried to cheer me up.

"What's the row--ear-ache?" demanded Trimble.

"He's blue because he's not had lines to-day," suggested Langrish.

"Perhaps his washerwoman has sent in her bill," said Coxhead.

"You'll get kicked out of here, if you look so jolly blue," said
Warminster. "It's stale enough this term, without having a chap with a
face like a boiled fish gaping at you."

"Look here," said I, resolved to be candid as far as I dare. "I'm in a
jolly mess--"

"Never knew you out of it. What's up?" said Langrish.

"Really though, no larks," said I. "Tempest's down on me because I went
out with Crofter, and Crofter's down on me because I cut him for
Tempest. That's enough to give a chap blues, isn't it?"

"There seems to be a run on Sarah," said Trimble. "Anybody got a
halfpenny?"

"What for?" I inquired, as the requisite coin was planked down on the
table.

"Heads Tempest, tails Crofter," said Langrish.

It was heads, and I was solemnly ordered to adhere to Crofter.

"We'll square it with Tempest," said they. "He'll probably keep his
shutters up for a day or two, but he'll soon get over it."

"But," said I, "I mean to stick to Tempest as well. The fact is, from
what I hear,"--little I realised the fatal error I was making!--"he's in
rather a bad way himself."

"How?"

"Well, don't tell; but he's owing a lot in the shops; and