anybody, and don't
mean to, so I don't know how it came out."

"Anyhow," said Parson, "if he's to be expelled, Silk and Gilks ought to
catch it too. I bet anything they took him there. Thanks! a little
piece."

This last sentence was in reply to an invitation to take some more cake.

Under cover of this diversion, Riddell, with thankful heart, continued
to steer the talk out again into the main channel of school affairs, of
which the affair of Wyndham junior was but one of many.

Before the meal was over it had got as far Eutropius, and he fairly won
his guests' hearts by announcing that he did not consider that
historian's Latin nearly as good as Caesar's, an opinion which they
endorsed with considerable heat.

All good things come to an end at last, and so did this breakfast, the
end of which found the boys in as great good-humour as at the beginning.
They thanked the captain most profusely for his hospitality, which they
never doubted was meant as a recognition of their own sterling merits,
and of the few attempts they had lately made to behave themselves; and,
after inviting him to come to a concert they were about to give on the
evening of the juniors' match, took their departure.

"By the way," said Riddell, as they were going, "do either of you know
to whom this book belongs? I found it in the playground yesterday."

A merry laugh greeted the appearance of Bosher's diary, which the pair
recognised as a very old friend.

"It's old Bosher's diary," said Telson. "He's always dropping it about.
I believe he does it on purpose. I say, isn't it frightful bosh?"

"It isn't very clear in parts," said the captain.

"Did he call you `evil,' or `gross,' or `ugly in the face,' in the part
you looked at?" asked Telson; "because, if so, we may as well lick him
for you."

"No, don't do that," said Riddell; "you had better give it him back,
though, and advise him from me not to drop it about more than he can
help. Good-bye."

With a great weight off his mind, Riddell went down to first school that
day a thankful though a humbled man.

What a narrow escape he had had of doing the boy he cared for most in
Willoughby a grievous injustice. Indeed, by suspecting him privately he
had done him injustice enough as it was, for which he could not too soon
atone.

In the midst of his relief about the boat-race he could scarcely bring
himself to regard seriously the boy's real offence, bad as that had
been; and, in