Eric often talked now of work in this slighting way, partly as an excuse for the low places in form, to which he was gradually sinking. Everybody knew that had he properly exerted his abilities he was capable of beating almost any boy; so, to quiet his conscience, he professed to ridicule diligence as an unboyish piece of muffishness, and was never slow to sneer at the "grinders," as he contemptuously called all those who laid themselves out to win school distinctions. "Ha, ha!" said Wildney, "that's rather good! No, Eric, it's too late for you to turn `grinder' now. I might as well think of doing it myself and I've never been higher than five from lag in my form yet." "Haven't you? But what's the regular lark you hinted at?" "First of all, I hope you won't think the _lark_ less larky because it's connected with _pigeons_," said Wildney. "Ridiculous little Sphinx! What do you mean?" "Why, we'll go and seize the Gordonites' pigeons, and make another dish of them." "Seize the Gordonites' pigeons! Why, when do you mean?" "To-night." Eric gave a long whistle. "But wouldn't it be stea--stea--?" "Stealing?" said Wildney, with a loud laugh. "Pooh! `_convey_ the wise it call.'" But Eric still looked serious. "Why, my dear old boy," continued Wildney, "the Gordonites'll be the first to laugh at the trick when we tell them of it next morning, as of course we will do. There, now, don't look grumpy. I shall cut away and arrange it with Graham, and tell you the whole dodge ready prepared to-night at bed-time." After lights were put out, Wildney came up to the study according to promise, and threw out hints about the proposed plan. He didn't tell it plainly, because Duncan was there, but Duncan caught quite enough to guess that some night excursion was intended, and said, when Wildney had gone-- "Take my advice, and have nothing to do with this, Eric." Eric had grown very touchy lately about advice, particularly from any fellow of his own standing; and after the checks he had recently received, a coolness had sprung up between him and nearly all the study-boys, which made him more than ever inclined to assert his independence, and defy and thwart them in every way. "Keep your advice to yourself; Duncan, till it's asked for," he answered roughly. "You've done nothing but _advise_ lately, and I'm rather sick of it." "Comme vous voulez," replied Duncan, with a shrug. "Gang your own gait; I'll have nothing more to do with trying to stop you since you _will_ ruin yourself." Nothing more was said in the study that evening, and when Eric went down he didn't even bid Duncan good-night. "Charlie," he said, as he stole on tiptoe into Wildney's dormitory. "Hush!" whispered Wildney, "the other fellows are asleep. Come and sit by my bedside, and I'll tell you what we are going to do."