The second term at school is generally the great test of the strength of a boy’s principles and resolutions. During the first term the novelty, the loneliness, the dread of unknown punishments, the respect for authorities, the desire to measure himself with his companions--all tend to keep him right and diligent. But many of these incentives are removed after the first brush of novelty, and many a lad who has given good promise at first, turns out, after a short probation, idle, or vicious, or indifferent. But there was little comparative danger for Eric, so long as he continued to be a home boarder, which was for another half-year. On the contrary, he was anxious to support in his new remove the prestige of having been head boy; and as he still continued under Mr. Gordon, he really wished to turn over a new leaf in his conduct towards him, and recover, if possible, his lost esteem. His popularity was a fatal snare. He enjoyed and was very proud of it, and was half inclined to be angry with Russell for not fully sharing his feelings; but Russell had a far larger experience of school life than his new friend, and dreaded with all his heart lest “he should follow a multitude to do evil.” The “cribbing,” which had astonished and pained Eric at first, was more flagrant than even in the Upper Fourth, and assumed a chronic form. In all the repetition lessons one of the boys used to write out in a large hand the passage to be learnt by heart, and dexterously pin it to the front of Mr. Gordon’s desk. There any boy who chose could read it off with little danger of detection, and, as before, the only boys who refused to avail themselves of this trickery were Eric, Russell, and Owen. Eric did _not_ yield to it; never once did he suffer his eyes to glance at the paper when his turn to repeat came round. But although this was the case, he never spoke against the practice to the other boys, even when he lost places by it. Nay more, he would laugh when any one told him how he had escaped “skewing” (_i.e._ being turned) by reading it off; and he even went so far as to allow them to suppose that he wouldn’t himself object to take advantage of the master’s unsuspicious confidence. “I say, Williams,” said Duncan, one morning as they strolled into the school-yard, “do you know your Rep.?” “No,” said Eric, “not very well; I haven’t given more than ten minutes to it.” “Oh, well, never mind it now; come and have a game at racquets? Russel and Montagu have taken the court.” “But I shall skew.” “Oh no, you needn’t, you know. I’ll take care to pin it up on the desk near you.”