Was it contempt in Evan’s tone, or merely disappointment? “Carpenter in our house.” “Chips Carpenter! I know him well; we were at the same old school before this. I never see enough of him either. Let’s all go together.” But Jan was not through his difficulty yet. “We were going to the haunted house,” he explained in a lower key. “It’s an old arrangement.” “The haunted house!” exclaimed Evan in a half-tone between approval and disapproval. “I never heard of one here.” “It’s a couple of miles away. They only say it’s haunted. We thought we’d have a look and see.” “But is it in bounds?” inquired Evan, with some anxiety. “I should hope so,” replied Jan, unscrupulously. “But here’s Chips; you ask him.” Devereux, however, despite his law-abiding instincts, was not the one to draw back when two were for going on. He was an excitable boy with a fund of high spirits, but not an infinity; they ran out sometimes when least expected. This morning, however, he was at his best, and incomparably better company than either of his companions. Jan was shy and awkward, though his soul sang with pride and pleasure. But Chips the articulate, Chips the loquacious, Chips the irrepressible in congenial company, had least of all to say, except in the bitterness of his own heart against the boy who had usurped his place. “He’s hardly spoken to either of us,” Chips was saying to himself, “since the very beginning of our first term; and I should like to have seen him now, if the Tiger hadn’t finished fourth in the Mile!”