“Oh, please, Tom, stop, or you’ll drive all I had to say out of my head.  And I’m already horribly afraid I’m going to make you angry.”

“Don’t gammon, young un,” rejoined Tom (the use of the old name, dear to him from old recollections, made Arthur start and smile and feel quite happy); “you know you ain’t afraid, and you’ve never made me angry since the first month we chummed together.  Now I’m going to be quite sober for a quarter of an hour, which is more than I am once in a year; so make the most of it; heave ahead, and pitch into me right and left.”

“Dear Tom, I ain’t going to pitch into you,” said Arthur piteously; “and it seems so cocky in me to be advising you, who’ve been my backbone ever since I’ve been at Rugby, and have made the school a paradise to me.  Ah, I see I shall never do it, unless I go head over heels at once, as you said when you taught me to swim.  Tom, I want you to give up using vulgus-books and cribs.”

Arthur sank back on to his pillow with a sigh, as if the effort had been great; but the worst was now over, and he looked straight at Tom, who was evidently taken aback.  He leant his elbows on his knees, and stuck his hands into his hair, whistled a verse of “Billy Taylor,” and then was quite silent for another minute.  Not a shade crossed his face, but he was clearly puzzled.  At last he looked up, and caught Arthur’s anxious look, took his hand, and said simply,—­

“Why, young un?”

“Because you’re the honestest boy in Rugby, and that ain’t honest.”

“I don’t see that.”

“What were you sent to Rugby for?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly—­nobody ever told me.  I suppose because all boys are sent to a public school in England.”

“But what do you think yourself?  What do you want to do here, and to carry away?”

Tom thought a minute.  “I want to be A1 at cricket and football, and all the other games, and to make my hands keep my head against any fellow, lout or gentleman.  I want to get into the sixth before I leave, and to please the Doctor; and I want to carry away just as much Latin and Greek as will take me through Oxford respectably.  There, now, young un; I never thought of it before, but that’s pretty much about my figure.  Ain’t it all on the square?  What have you got to say to that?”

“Why, that you are pretty sure to do all that you want, then.”

“Well, I hope so.  But you’ve forgot one thing—­what I want to leave behind me.  I want to leave behind me,” said Tom, speaking slow, and looking much moved, “the name of a fellow who never bullied a little boy, or turned his back on a big one.”

Arthur pressed his hand, and after a moment’s silence went on, “You say, Tom, you want to please the Doctor.  Now, do you want to please him by what he thinks you do, or by what you really do?”

“By what I really do, of course.”

“Does he think you use cribs and vulgus-books?”