What cared he?
If to do what was right manfully in the face of wrong, to persevere in the right in the face of drawbacks, constituted a prig, then Larkins was a prig of the first water, and he didn't care what fellows thought of him, but chirruped away over his postage-stamp album as before, and read his books, as happy as a king.
It was in this boy's society that during those wretched weeks I found a painful consolation.

He was constantly reminding me of what I was not; but for all that I felt he was a better companion than the heroes with whom I used to associate, and with whom I still occasionally consorted.
He knew nothing of my trouble, and thought I was the crossest-grained, slowest growler in existence.

But since I chose his company, and seemed glad to have him beside me, he was delighted.
"I say," said he suddenly one evening, as we were engaged in experimenting with a small steam-engine he had lately become the proud possessor of, "I saw your old friend Smith to-day!" "Where ?" I asked.
"Why, down Drury Lane.

I heard of a new Russian stamp that was to be had cheap in a shop there, and while I was in buying it he came in." "Was he buying stamps too ?" "No; he lives in a room over the shop.

Not a nice hole, I should fancy.
Didn't you know he was there ?" "No," I said.
"Oh, you should go and see the place.