SCHOOL DAYS
"By what I really do, of course."
"Does he think you use cribs and vulgus-books?"
Tom felt at once that his flank was turned, but he couldn't give in. "He was at Winchester himself," said he; "he knows all about it."
"Yes, but does he think you use them? Do you think he approves of it?"
"You young villain!" said Tom, shaking his fist at Arthur, half vexed and half pleased, "I never think about it. Hang it—there, perhaps he don't. Well, I suppose he don't."
Arthur saw that he had got his point; he knew his friend well, and was wise in silence, as in speech. He only said, "I would sooner have the Doctor's good opinion of me as I really am than any man's in the world."
After another minute Tom began again: "Look here, young un, how on earth am I to get time to play the matches this half if I give up cribs? We're in the middle of that long, crabbed chorus in the Agamemnon; I can only just make head or tail of it with the crib. Then there's Pericles' speech coming on in Thucydides, and The Birds to get up for the examination, besides the Tacitus." Tom groaned at the thought of his accumulated labors. "I say, young un, there's only five weeks or so left to holidays; mayn't I go on as usual for this half? I'll tell the Doctor about it some day, or you may."
Arthur looked out of the window; the twilight had come on and all was silent. He repeated, in a low voice, "In this thing the Lord pardon thy servant, that when my master goeth into the house of Rimmon to worship there, and he leaneth on my hand, and I bow myself in the house of Rimmon: when I bow down myself in the house of Rimmon, the Lord pardon thy servant in this thing."
Not a word more was said on the subject, and the boys were again silent—one of those blessed, short silences in which the resolves which color a life are so often taken.
Tom was the first to break it. "You've been very ill indeed,
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