for his dormitory, which he entered, just as that worthy had thrust the beer-stained trousers under his bed.  Mr. Rose, walked up quietly to his bedside, and observed that he was not asleep, and that he still had half has clothes on.  He was going away when he saw a little bit of the trousers protruding under the mattress, and giving a pull, out they came, wringing wet with the streams of beer.  He could not tell at first what this imported, but a fragment of the bottle fell out of the pocket with, a crash on the floor, and he then discovered.  Taking no notice of Wildney’s pretended sleep, he said, quietly, “Come to me before breakfast tomorrow, Wildney,” and went down stairs.

Eric came in soon after, and found the little fellow vainly attempting to appear indifferent, as he related to his admiring auditors the night’s adventure; being evidently rather prouder of the “Erie and I,” which he introduced every now and then into his story.

“Has he twigged you?”

“Yes.”

“And me?”

“I don’t know; we shall see to-morrow.”

“I hope not,” said Eric; “I’m sorry for you, Charlie.”

“Can’t be cured, must be endured,” said Wildney.

“Well, good night! and don’t lose heart.”

Eric went back to Duncan in the study, and they finished the other bottle of beer between them, though without much enjoyment, because they were full of surmises as to the extent of the discovery, and the nature of the punishment.

Eric went in to tell Montagu of their escapade.

He listened very coldly, and said, “Well, Eric, it would serve you right to be caught.  What business have you to be going out at night, at the invitation of contemptible small fry, like this little Wildney?”

“I beg you won’t speak of any friend of mine in those terms,” said Eric, drawing up haughtily.

“I hope you don’t call a bad little boy like Wildney, who’d be no credit to any one, your friend, Eric?”

“Yes I do, though.  He’s one of the pluckiest, finest, most promising fellows in the lower school.”

“How I begin to hate that word plucky,” said Montagu; “it’s made the excuse here for everything that’s wrong, base, and unmanly.  It seems to me it’s infinitely more ‘plucky’ just now to do your duty and not be ashamed of it.”

“You’ve certainly required that kind of pluck to bear you up lately, Monty,” said Owen, looking up from his books.

“Pluck!” said Montagu, scornfully; “you seem to me to think it consists in lowering yourself down to the level of that odious Brigson, and joining hand and glove with the dregs of the school.”

“Dregs of the school!  Upon my word, you’re cool, to speak of any of my associates in that way,” said Eric, now thoroughly angry.

“Associates!” retorted Montagu, hotly; “pretty associates!  How do you expect anything good to go on, when fellows high in the school like you have such dealings with the refined honorable Brigson, and the exemplary intellectual Wildney?”