When therefore, about this time, an auction was one night announced to take place in the hall, at which, amongst the superfluities of other boys, all Diggs’s penates for the time being were going to the hammer, East and Tom laid their heads together, and resolved to devote their ready cash (some four shillings sterling) to redeem such articles as that sum would cover.  Accordingly, they duly attended to bid, and Tom became the owner of two lots of Diggs’s things:—­Lot 1, price one-and-threepence, consisting (as the auctioneer remarked) of a “valuable assortment of old metals,” in the shape of a mouse-trap, a cheese-toaster without a handle, and a saucepan:  Lot 2, of a villainous dirty table-cloth and green-baize curtain; while East, for one-and-sixpence, purchased a leather paper-case, with a lock but no key, once handsome, but now much the worse for wear.  But they had still the point to settle of how to get Diggs to take the things without hurting his feelings.  This they solved by leaving them in his study, which was never locked when he was out.  Diggs, who had attended the auction, remembered who had bought the lots, and came to their study soon after, and sat silent for some time, cracking his great red finger-joints.  Then he laid hold of their verses, and began looking over and altering them, and at last got up, and turning his back to them, said, “You’re uncommon good-hearted little beggars, you two.  I value that paper-case; my sister gave it to me last holidays.  I won’t forget.”  And so he tumbled out into the passage, leaving them somewhat embarrassed, but not sorry that he knew what they had done.

The next morning was Saturday, the day on which the allowances of one shilling a week were paid—­an important event to spendthrift youngsters; and great was the disgust amongst the small fry to hear that all the allowances had been impounded for the Derby lottery.  That great event in the English year, the Derby, was celebrated at Rugby in those days by many lotteries.  It was not an improving custom, I own, gentle reader, and led to making books, and betting, and other objectionable results; but when our great Houses of Palaver think it right to stop the nation’s business on that day and many of the members bet heavily themselves, can you blame us boys for following the example of our betters?  At any rate we did follow it.  First there was the great school lottery, where the first prize was six or seven pounds; then each house had one or more separate lotteries.  These were all nominally voluntary, no boy being compelled to put in his shilling who didn’t choose to do so.  But besides Flashman, there were three or four other fast, sporting young gentlemen in the Schoolhouse, who considered subscription a matter of duty and necessity; and so, to make their duty come easy to the small boys, quietly secured the allowances in a lump when given out for distribution, and kept them.  It was no use grumbling—­so many fewer tartlets and apples were eaten and fives balls bought on that Saturday; and after locking-up, when the money would otherwise have been spent, consolation was carried to many a small boy by the sound of the night-fags shouting along the passages, “Gentlemen sportsmen of the School-house; the lottery’s going to be drawn in the hall.”  It was pleasant to be called a gentleman sportsman, also to have a chance of drawing a favourite horse.