When Philip was put in the study he could not help seeing that the others, who had been together for three terms, welcomed him coldly.  It made him nervous to feel himself an intruder; but he had learned to hide his feelings, and they found him quiet and unobtrusive.  With Rose, because he was as little able as anyone else to resist his charm, Philip was even more than usually shy and abrupt; and whether on account of this, unconsciously bent upon exerting the fascination he knew was his only by the results, or whether from sheer kindness of heart, it was Rose who first took Philip into the circle.  One day, quite suddenly, he asked Philip if he would walk to the football field with him.  Philip flushed.

“I can’t walk fast enough for you,” he said.

“Rot.  Come on.”

And just before they were setting out some boy put his head in the study-door and asked Rose to go with him.

“I can’t,” he answered.  “I’ve already promised Carey.”

“Don’t bother about me,” said Philip quickly.  “I shan’t mind.”

“Rot,” said Rose.

He looked at Philip with those good-natured eyes of his and laughed.  Philip felt a curious tremor in his heart.

In a little while, their friendship growing with boyish rapidity, the pair were inseparable.  Other fellows wondered at the sudden intimacy, and Rose was asked what he saw in Philip.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered.  “He’s not half a bad chap really.”

Soon they grew accustomed to the two walking into chapel arm in arm or strolling round the precincts in conversation; wherever one was the other could be found also, and, as though acknowledging his proprietorship, boys who wanted Rose would leave messages with Carey.  Philip at first was reserved.  He would not let himself yield entirely to the proud joy that filled him; but presently his distrust of the fates gave way before a wild happiness.  He thought Rose the most wonderful fellow he had ever seen.  His books now were insignificant; he could not bother about them when there was something infinitely more important to occupy him.  Rose’s friends used to come in to tea in the study sometimes or sit about when there was nothing better to do—­Rose liked a crowd and the chance of a rag—­and they found that Philip was quite a decent fellow.  Philip was happy.

When the last day of term came he and Rose arranged by which train they should come back, so that they might meet at the station and have tea in the town before returning to school.  Philip went home with a heavy heart.  He thought of Rose all through the holidays, and his fancy was active with the things they would do together next term.  He was bored at the vicarage, and when on the last day his uncle put him the usual question in the usual facetious tone: 

“Well, are you glad to be going back to school?”

Philip answered joyfully.

“Rather.”