“But, Papa, Mr. Gordon is so hasty.  I have indeed been rather a favorite of his, yet now he shows that he has no confidence in me.  It is a great shame that he shouldn’t believe my word.  I don’t mind the pain; but I shan’t like him any more, and I’m sure, now, I shan’t get the examination prize.”

“You don’t mean, Eric, that he will be influenced by partiality in the matter?”

“No, Papa, not exactly; at least I dare say he won’t intend to be.  But it is unlucky to be on bad terms with a master, and I know I shan’t work so well.”

On the whole, the boy was right in thinking this incident a misfortune.  Although he had nothing particular for which to blame himself, yet the affair had increased his pride, while it lowered his self-respect; and he had an indistinct consciousness that the popularity in his form would do him as much harm as the change of feeling in his master.  He grew careless and dispirited, nor was it till in the very heat of the final competition, that he felt his energies fully revived.

Half the form were as eager about the examination as the other half were indifferent; but none were more eager than Eric.  He was much hindered by Barker’s unceasing attempt to copy his papers surreptitiously; and very much disgusted at the shameless way in which many of the boys “cribbed” from books, and from each other, or used torn leaves concealed in their sleeves, or dates written on their wristbands, and on their nails.  He saw how easily much of this might have been prevented; but Mr. Gordon was fresh at his work, and had not yet learnt the practical lesson, that to trust young boys to any great extent, is really to increase their temptations.  He did learn the lesson afterwards, and then almost entirely suppressed the practice, partly by increased vigilance, and partly by forbidding any book to be brought into the room during the time of examination.  But meanwhile, much evil had been done by the habitual abuse of his former confidence.

I shall not linger over the examination.  At its close, the day before the breaking-up, the list was posted on the door of the great school-room, and most boys made an impetuous rush to see the result.  But Eric was too nervous to be present at the hour when this was usually done, and he had asked Russell to bring him the news.

He was walking up and down the garden, counting the number of steps he took, counting the number of shrubs along each path, and devising every sort of means to beguile the time, when he heard hasty steps, and Russell burst in at the back gate, breathless with haste, and bright with excitement.

“Hurrah! old fellow,” he cried, seizing both Eric’s hands; “I never felt so glad in my life;” and he shook his friend’s arms up and down, laughing joyously.

“Well! tell me,” said Eric.

“First, {Owen/Williams} Aequales,” “you’ve got head remove you see, in spite of your forebodings, as I always said you would; and I congratulate you with all my heart.”