"Oh no, there were plenty left," Angel assured him; "you could hardly see where those were gathered. And she seemed so pleased to cut them for you." "I wish she knew what pleasure they are giving me; I must tell her if she calls. I feel as if I have made a friend in Wreyford, though I have never met her yet." And the smile which lit up Mr. Willis' face as he spoke was full of gratification. Angel met her uncle's eyes saw that he too had noticed how much brighter the invalid was looking; but neither realized how much the little old maid's spontaneous act of kindness had to do with his better spirits; perhaps he did not realize it himself, although his eyes constantly wandered to the flowers in their fresh, spring beauty, and he repeated many times ere the day was done, "It was very good of her to send them to me." CHAPTER XI On the Bridge THE Wreyford Grammar School stood in the main street of the town. It was a substantial grey stone building, with a large playground at the back, which, on a certain April morning, presented a decidedly uproarious scene, some sixty boys of all sizes and ages being assembled there, talking, shouting, and laughing at the top of their voices. Some of the boys were boarders, but the majority was comprised of day pupils, who represented not only the leading families of the town, but the small traders and farmers of the surrounding districts as well, for the Wreyford Grammar School was open to all whose parents could pay the very moderate fees demanded. The boys had just been dismissed for the Easter holidays; and presently a door in the wall leading into a lane at the back of Fore Street was opened, and they began gradually to disperse through that exit. Almost the first to leave was Gilbert Mickle: No one attempted to speak to him as he passed through the crowd of boys except his brother, who was talking to a group composed of his boon companions, and shouted to him to ask if he was going home already. "Yes," answered Gilbert sourly; "I don't want to remain here in this hubbub." "All right!" was the cheerful response. "Don't wait for me; I'm not coming yet." Gilbert turned away, conscious that Tom's friends were whispering about him; he did not suppose their remarks were very flattering, and a dull angry flush rose to his face, whilst the ill-tempered lines between his brows deepened as he hurried between the knots of boys, and at last found himself in the lane. He moved more slowly then, and reflected bitterly on the scene he had left. Not one of his school-fellows had so much as wished him enjoyable holidays, he was thinking, when the sound of quick footsteps behind him made him glance around. "I say, Mickle," said a hearty, jovial voice, "I'm awfully glad you've won the form-prize as I haven't. I thought all along you would, although I tried hard to get it myself. But I was fairly beaten. I'd rather be licked by you than any of the other fellows."