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 Repetition?" "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. Russell and Montagu have taken the court." "But I shall skew." "Oh no, you needn't, you know. I'll take care to pin it upon the desk near you." "Well, I don't much care. At any rate I'll chance it." And off the boys ran to the racquet-court, Eric intending to occupy the last quarter of an hour before school-time in learning his lesson. Russell and he stood the other two, and they were very well matched. They had finished two splendid games, and each side had been victorious in turn, when Duncan, in the highest spirits, shouted, "Now, Russell, for the conqueror." "Get some one else in my place," said Russell; "I don't know my Repetition, and must cut and learn it." "Oh, bother the Repetition," said Montagu, "somebody's sure to write it out in school, and old Gordon'll never see." "You forget, Montagu, I don't deign to crib. It isn't fair." "Oh ay, I forgot. Well, after all, you're quite right; I only wish I was as good." "What a capital fellow he is," continued Montagu, leaning on his racquet and looking after him, as Russell left the court. "But I say, Williams, you're not going too, are you?" "I think I must, I don't know half my lesson." "Oh no, I don't go; there's Llewellyn; he'll take Russell's place, and we _must_ have the conquering game." Again Eric yielded; and when the clock struck, he ran into school, hot, vexed with himself and certain to break down, just as Russell strolled in, whispering, "I've had lots of time to get up the Horace, and know it pat."