For a few days after the Sunday walk narrated in the last chapter, Upton and Eric cut each other dead.  Upton was angry at Eric’s declining the honor of his company, and Eric was piqued at Upton’s unreasonableness.  In the “taking up” system, such quarrels were of frequent occurrence, and as the existence of a misunderstanding was generally indicated in this very public way, the variations of good will between such friends generally excited no little notice and amusement among the other boys.  But both Upton and Eric were too sensible to carry their differences so far as others similarly circumstanced; each thoroughly enjoyed the other’s company, and they generally seized an early opportunity for effecting a reconciliation, which united them more firmly than ever.

As soon as Eric had got over his little pique, he made the first advances, by writing a note to Upton, which he slipped under his study door, and which ran as follows:—­

“Dear Horace—­Don’t let us quarrel about nothing.  Silly fellow, why should you be angry with me because for once I wanted to go a walk with Russell, who, by the bye, is twice as good a fellow as you?  I shall expect you to make it up directly after prayers.—­Yours, if you are not silly, E.W.”

The consequence was, that as they came out from prayers, Upton seized Eric’s hand, and slapped him on the back, after which they had a good laugh over their own foolish fracas, and ran up stairs chattering merrily.

“There’s to be an awful lark in the dormitories tonight,” said Eric; “the doctor’s gone to a dinner-party, and we’re going to have no end of fun.”

“Are you?  Well, if it gets amusing, come to my study and tell me, I’ll come and look on.”

“Very well; depend upon it, I’ll come.”  And they parted at the foot of the study stairs.

It was Mr. Rose’s night of duty.  He walked slowly up and down the range of Dormitories until every boy seemed ready to get into bed, and then he put out all the candles.  So long as he was present, the boys observed the utmost quiet and decorum.  All continued quite orderly until he had passed away through the lavatory, and one of the boys following him as a scout, had seen the last glimmer of his candle disappear round the corner at the foot of the great staircase, and heard the library door close behind him.

After that, particularly as Dr. Rowlands was absent, the boys knew that they were safe from disturbance, and the occupants of No. 7 were the first to stir.

“Now for some fun,” said Duncan, starting up, and by way of initiative pitching his pillow at Eric’s head.

“I’ll pay you out for that when I’m ready,” said Eric, laughing; “but give us a match, first.”

Duncan produced some vestas, and no sooner had they lighted their candle, than several of the dormitory doors began to be thrown open, and one after another all requested a light, which Duncan and Eric conveyed to them in a sort of emulous lampadephoria, so that a length all the twelve dormitories had their sconces lit, and the boys began all sorts of amusement, some in their night-shirts and others with their trousers slipped on.  Leap-frog was the prevalent game for a time, but at last Graham suggested theatricals, and they were agreed on.