at can we do?" said Henderson anxiously.

"Take the consequences, that's all," answered Walter.

"Hadn't you better go and tell Paton about it at once instead of letting
him find it out?"

"No," said Walter; "he's done nothing but bully me, and I don't care."

"Then let me go," said his friend earnestly. "I know Paton well; I'm
sure he'd be ready to forgive you, if I explained it all to him."

"You're very good, Flip; but don't go:--it's too late."

"Well, Walter, you mustn't think that I had no share in this because of
being afraid. I was one of the group, and I'll share the punishment
with you, whatever it is. I hope for your sake it won't be found out."

But if Henderson had seen a little deeper he would have hoped that it
would be found out, for there is nothing that works quicker ruin to any
character than undiscovered sin. It was happy for Walter that his wrong
impulses did _not_ remain undiscovered; happy for him that they came so
rapidly to be known and to be punished.

It was noised through the school in five minutes that Evson, one of the
new fellows, had smashed open Paton's desk and burned the contents.
"What an awful row he'll get into!" was the general comment. Walter
heard Kenrick inquiring eagerly about it as they sat at tea; but Kenrick
didn't ask _him_ about it, though they sat so near each other. After
the foolish, proud manner of sensitive boys, Walter and Kenrick, though
each liked the other none the less, were not on speaking terms. Walter,
less morbidly proud than Kenrick, would not have suffered this silly
alienation to continue had not his attention been occupied by other
troubles. Neither of them, therefore, liked to be the first to break
the ice, and now in his most serious difficulty Walter had lost the
advice and sympathy of his most intimate friend.

The fellows seemed to think that he must inevitably be expelled for this
_fracas_. The poor boy's thoughts were very, very bitter as he laid his
head that night on his restless pillow, remembered what an ungovernable
fool he had been, and dreamt of his happy and dear-loved home. How
strangely he seemed to have left his old, innocent life behind him, and
how little he would have believed it possible, two months ago, that he
could by any conduct of his own have so soon incurred, or nearly
incurred, the penalty of expulsion from Saint Winifred's School.

He had certainly yielded very quickly to passion, and he felt that in
cons