cook’s private cupboard, awaiting her return; and as a warning to her they finished it to the last crumb.  The kettle sang away merrily on the hob of the snuggery, for, notwithstanding the time of year, they lighted a fire, throwing both the windows wide open at the same time; the heaps of books and papers were pushed away to the other end of the table, and the great solitary engraving of King’s College Chapel over the mantelpiece looked less stiff than usual, as they settled themselves down in the twilight to the serious drinking of tea.

After some talk on the match, and other indifferent subjects, the conversation came naturally back to Tom’s approaching departure, over which he began again to make his moan.

“Well, we shall all miss you quite as much as you will miss us,” said the master.  “You are the Nestor of the School now, are you not?”

“Yes, ever since East left,” answered Tom.  “By-the-bye, have you heard from him?”

“Yes, I had a letter in February, just before he started for India to join his regiment.”

“He will make a capital officer.”

“Ay, won’t he!” said Tom, brightening.  “No fellow could handle boys better, and I suppose soldiers are very like boys.  And he’ll never tell them to go where he won’t go himself.  No mistake about that.  A braver fellow never walked.”

“His year in the sixth will have taught him a good deal that will be useful to him now.”

“So it will,"’ said Tom, staring into the fire.  “Poor dear Harry,” he went on—­“how well I remember the day we were put out of the twenty!  How he rose to the situation, and burnt his cigar-cases, and gave away his pistols, and pondered on the constitutional authority of the sixth, and his new duties to the Doctor, and the fifth form, and the fags!  Ay, and no fellow ever acted up to them better, though he was always a people’s man—­for the fags, and against constituted authorities.  He couldn’t help that, you know.  I’m sure the Doctor must have liked him?” said Tom, looking up inquiringly.

“The Doctor sees the good in every one, and appreciates it,” said the master dogmatically; “but I hope East will get a good colonel.  He won’t do if he can’t respect those above him.  How long it took him, even here, to learn the lesson of obeying!”

“Well, I wish I were alongside of him,” said Tom.  “If I can’t be at Rugby, I want to be at work in the world, and not dawdling away three years at Oxford.”

“What do you mean by ’at work in the world’?” said the master, pausing with his lips close to his saucerful of tea, and peering at Tom over it.

“Well, I mean real work—­one’s profession—­whatever one will have really to do and make one’s living by.  I want to be doing some real good, feeling that I am not only at play in the world,” answered Tom, rather puzzled to find out himself what he really did mean.