Oh, hang it, I can't stand that! Besides who's to keep me up to working at the examination books?
I shall come out bottom of the form, as sure as eggs is eggs." Tom was rattling on, half in joke, half in earnest, for he wanted to get Arthur out of his serious vein, thinking it would do him harm; but Arthur broke in,-- "Oh, please, Tom, stop, or you'll drive all I had to say out of my head.
And I'm already horribly afraid I'm going to make you angry." "Don't gammon, young un," rejoined Tom (the use of the old name, dear to him from old recollections, made Arthur start and smile and feel quite happy); "you know you ain't afraid, and you've never made me angry since the first month we chummed together.

Now I'm going to be quite sober for a quarter of an hour, which is more than I am once in a year; so make the most of it; heave ahead, and pitch into me right and left." "Dear Tom, I ain't going to pitch into you," said Arthur piteously; "and it seems so cocky in me to be advising you, who've been my backbone ever since I've been at Rugby, and have made the school a paradise to me.

Ah, I see I shall never do it, unless I go head over heels at once, as you said when you taught me to swim.

Tom, I want you to give up using vulgus-books and cribs." Arthur sank back on to his pillow with a sigh, as if the effort had been great; but the worst was now over, and he looked straight at Tom, who was evidently taken aback.

He leant his elbows on his knees, and stuck his hands into his hair, whistled a verse of "Billy Taylor," and then was quite silent for another minute.