the legitimate funds--the
football, the racquet court, the gymnasium; but he saw no reason why he
should be taxed for things which he disliked and disapproved. The
result of that evening confirmed him in his resolution. It was a scene
of drinking, gluttony, secret fear, endless squabbling, and joyless
excitement.

"Of course you'll play, and put into the pool?" said Wilton.

"No, thank you."

"No, _thank you_," said Wilton, scornfully mimicking his tone. "Of
course not; you'll do nothing except set yourself up for a saint, and
make yourself disagreeable."

During the evening Stone brought him some wine, which Charlie again
declined, with "No, thank you, Stone." Wilton again echoed the refusal,
which was chorused by a dozen others; and from that time Charlie was
duly dubbed with the nickname of "No-thank-you." He was forcibly
christened by this new name, by being held in bed while half a
wine-glass of port was thrown in his face. The wine poured down and
stained his night-shirt, and then they all began to dread that it would
lead to their being discovered, and threatened Charlie with endless
penalties if he dared to tell. There was, however, little danger, as
the Noelites had bribed the servants who waited on them and cleaned
their rooms.

The same scene, with slight variations, was constantly repeated, and
every fresh refusal was accompanied by a kick or a cuff from the bigger
boys, a sneer or an insult from the younger; for Charlie himself was one
of the youngest of them all. One night it was, "I say, you fellow--you,
No-thank-you--will you fork out for some wine to-night? No? Well then,
take that and that, and be hung to you for a little muff." Another time
it would be, "Hi there, No-thank-you--we want sixpence for a pack of
cards. Oh, you won't be so sinful as to part with sixpence for cards?
Confounded little miser;" "Niggard," said another; "Skinflint," shouted
a third. And a general cry of "Saint," which expressed the climax of
villainy, ended the verbal portion of the contest. And then, some one
would slap him on the cheek, with "take that", "and that," from another,
"and that," from a third--the last being a boot or a piece of soap shied
at his head.

It cannot be more wearisome to the reader than it is to me to linger in
these coarse scenes; but, for Charlie, it was a long martyrdom most
heroically borne. He was almost literally alone and single-handed
against the rest of the house; yet