"If you like," said Montagu, wavering; "but I don't much care to smoke." "Well, _I_ shall, at any rate," said Eric, keeping off the wind with his cap, as he lighted a cigar, and began to puff. They strolled on in silence; the smoking didn't promote conversation, and Russell thought that he had never seen his friend look so ridiculous, and entirely unlike himself, as he did while strutting along with the weed in his mouth. The fact was, Eric didn't guess how much he was hurting Edwin's feelings, and he was smoking more to "make things look like the holidays," by a little bravado, than anything else. But suddenly he caught the expression of Russell's face, and instantly said-- "Oh, I forgot, Edwin; I know you don't like smoking," and he instantly flung the cigar over the hedge, being really rather glad to get rid of it. With the cigar, he seemed to have flung away the affected manner he displayed just before, and the spirits of all three rose at once. "It isn't that I don't _like_ smoking only, Eric, but I think it wrong-- for _us_ I mean." "Oh, my dear fellow! surely there can't be any harm in it. Why, everybody smokes." "It may be all very well for men, although I'm not so sure of that. But, at any rate, it does nothing but harm to growing boys. You know yourself what harm it does in every way." "Oh, it's a mere school rule against it. How can it be wrong? Why, I even know clergymen who smoke." Montagu laughed. "Well, clergymen ain't immaculate," said he; "but I have seldom met a man yet who didn't tell you that he was _sorry_ he'd acquired the habit." "I'm sure you won't thank that rascally cousin of mine for having taught you," said Russell; "but seriously, isn't it a very moping way of spending the afternoon, to go and lie down behind some haystack, or in some frowsy tumble-down barn, as you smokers do, instead of playing racquets or football?" "Oh, it's pleasant enough sometimes," said Eric, speaking rather against his own convictions. "As for me, I've pretty nearly left it off," said Montagu, "and I think Rose convinced me that it was a mistake. Not that he knows that I ever did smoke. I should be precious sorry if he did, for I know how he despises it in boys. Were you in school the other day when he caught Pietrie and Booking?" "No." "Well, when Booking went up to have his exercise corrected, Rose smelt that he had been smoking, and charged him with it. Booking stoutly denied it, but after he had told the most robust lies, Rose made him empty his pockets, and there, sure enough, were a pipe and a cigar-case half full! You _should_ have heard how Rose thundered and lightened at him for his lying, and then sent him to the Doctor. I never saw him so terrific before." "You don't mean to say you were convinced it was wrong because Booking was caught, and told lies--do you? _Non sequitur_."