He had expected it, and he knew equally well it was but the beginning of a settled programme.

Heathcote had better not keep up the contest.

He had better knuckle under at once, as Dick had done, and enjoy a quiet time.

Or, if he must break rules, let him remember that fellows could lie, and cheat, and sneak in Templeton, and never once be interfered with by the holy monitors; but when once they took to walking on the roofs--why, where could they expect to go to when they descended to such a depth of wickedness as that?
Heathcote spend a miserable afternoon, letting his misfortune and Pledge's words rankle in his breast till he hated the very name of Dick and goodness.
In due time the three fishers returned that evening tired with their hard day's work, and bronzed with the sun and breeze.
Dick looked serious and anxious as he followed his seniors into the Quadrangle, carrying the ulsters and the empty luncheon basket.
"Ah," thought Heathcote, as he watched him from a retired nook, "he's ashamed of himself.

He well may be." The two seniors turned in at Westover's door, leaving Dick to continue his walk alone.
Now was Heathcote's time.