Nor was it deemed prudent under the circumstances to commit ourselves in writing to Tempest, whom we hoped to convince of our loyalty by cheering him on every possible occasion and otherwise making things pleasant for him.
How Crofter enjoyed his letter we none of us knew.

He was inconsiderate enough to give no sign of having received it; and still more inconsiderate to allow himself on more than one occasion to be publicly complimented by the doctor and Mr Sharpe on the order of the house.
Meanwhile the Philosophers stuck to their new programme.

I had the satisfaction of pulling down Langrish from his place on the top desk at the end of the first week, and he had the triumph of recovering his seat at the end of the week after.

In the seclusion of the faggery we indulged in a few mild recriminations, which were the natural outcome of our rivalry; but they only served to blow off steam, and we were too keen to win our self-imposed battles in class to allow personal feeling to interfere much with our work.
Mr Sharpe was fairly astonished, and took off his glasses, and rubbed his mild eyes as he read over our really meritorious exercises and listened to our sometimes positively coherent feats of construing.
Secretly, too, but with great precaution, and in spots far removed from the detection of the day boys, we practised grimly at jumping and sprinting and record-breaking generally, and finally, as the critical time for making our entries approached, agreed upon the particular exploit which each of us was to undertake for the honour and glory of Sharpe's house in general and Philosophy in particular.
Before that time arrived, however, one awkward incident occurred, to remind me I had even yet not quite purged myself of the follies of last term.

I stumbled against Crofter just outside his door.
"Come in," said he.
I obeyed, guessing that at last we were to hear something of our famous letter.
I was disappointed, however.