“Well, there’s no great harm in a little noise, if that’s all.”

“But it isn’t all.  The talk of nearly the whole school is getting most blackguardly; shamelessly so.  Only yesterday Wildney was chatting with Vernon up here (you were out, or Vernon would not have been here) while I was reading; they didn’t seem to mind me, and I’m sure you’d have been vexed to the heart if you’d heard how they talked to each other.  At last I couldn’t stand it any longer, and bouncing up, I boxed both their ears smartly, and kicked them down stairs.”

As Eric said nothing, Duncan continued, “And I wish it ended in talk, but——­”

“But I believe you’re turning Owenite.  Why, bless me, we’re only schoolboys; it’ll be lots of time to turn saint some other day.”

Eric was talking at random, and in the spirit of opposition.  “You don’t want to make the whole school such a muffish set as the rosebuds, do you?”

There was something of assumed bravado in Eric’s whole manner which jarred on Duncan exceedingly.  “Do as you like,” he said, curtly, and went into another study.

Immediately after came a rap at the door, and in walked Wildney, as he often did after the rest were gone to bed, merely slipping his trousers over his nightshirt, and running up to the studies.

“Well, you’ll come to the Anti-muffs, won’t you?” he said.

“To that pestilential place again?—­not I.”

Wildney looked offended.  “Not after we’ve all asked you?  The fellows won’t half like your refusing.”

He had touched Eric’s weak point.

“Do come,” he said, looking up in Eric’s face.

“Confound it all,” answered Eric, hastily.  “Yes, I’ve no friends, I’ll come, Charlie.  Anything to please you, boy.”

“That’s a brick.  Then I shall cut down and tell the fellows.  They’ll be no end glad.  No friends! why all the school like you.”  And he scampered off, leaving Eric ill at ease.

Duncan didn’t re-enter the study that evening.

The next day, about half-past four, Eric found himself on the way to Ellan.  As he was starting, Bull caught him up, and said—­

“Are you going to the Anti-muffs?”

“Yes; why? are you going too?”

“Yes; do you mind our going together?”

“Not at all.”

In fact, Eric was very glad of some one—­no matter who—­to keep him in countenance, for he felt consider ably more than half ashamed of himself.

They went to “The Jolly Herring,” as the pot-house was called, and passed through the dingy beery tap-room into the back parlor, to which Eric had already been introduced by Wildney.  About a dozen boys were assembled, and there was a great clapping on the table as the two new-comers entered.  A long table was laid down the room, which was regularly spread for dinner.

“Now then, Billy; make haste with the goose,” called Brigson.  “I vote, boys, that Eric Williams takes the chair.”