It was even with you, Margaret." "No, no, Ethel you aren't going to blame your own Norman for unkindness on this of all days in the year.

You know how it was; you love him better; just as I do, for not being able to bear to stay in this room, where--" "Yes," said Ethel, mournfully; "it was a great shame of me! How could I?
Dear Norman! how he does grieve--what love his must have been! But yet, Margaret," she said impatiently, and the hot tears breaking out, "I cannot--cannot bear it! To have him not caring one bit for all of us! I want him to triumph! I can't without him!" "What, Ethel, you, who said you didn't care for mere distinction and praise?
Don't you think dear mamma would say it was safer for him not to be delighted and triumphant ?" "It is very tiresome," said Ethel, nearly convinced, but in a slightly petulant voice.
"And does not one love those two dear boys to-night!" said Margaret.
"Norman not able to rejoice in his victory without her, and Harry in such an ecstacy with Norman's honours.

I don't think I ever was so fond of my two brothers." Ethel smiled, and drew up her head, and said no boys were like them anywhere, and papa would be delighted, and so went to bed happier in her exultation, and in hoping that the holidays would make Norman himself again.
Nothing could be better news for Dr.May, who had never lost a grain of the ancient school-party-loyalty that is part of the nature of the English gentleman.

He was a thorough Stoneborough boy, had followed the politics of the Whichcote foundation year by year all his life, and perhaps, in his heart, regarded no honour as more to be prized than that of Dux and Randall scholar.

Harry was in his room the next morning as soon as ever he was stirring, a welcome guest--teased a little at first, by his pretending to take it all as a sailor's prank to hoax him and Richard, and then free to pour out to delighted ears the whole history of the examination, and of every one's congratulations.
Norman himself was asleep when Harry went to give this narration.