"Well, yes; we all have our little weaknesses." "That reminds me," said Strachan, turning round and poking the fire. "Our school career is drawing to a close, and I have never made my confession. I committed a crime last November which I have never owned, which no one suspects, but which weighs, whenever I think of it, on my conscience." "Unburden," said Kavanagh. "Well, then, you may remember that the weather was very mild up to the seventh of the month." "Don't; but grant it. Go ahead." "On the eighth of November it grew suddenly colder, and I got out my winter things, and in the afternoon I changed. Having done so, I put my pencil in the right-hand waistcoat pocket. There was something round and hard there--a lozenge? No, a shilling, which had remained there ever since I changed my winter clothes in the spring. Now at that time we were reduced to anchovy paste for breakfast, and our bare rations for tea. Money was spent, tick was scarce, stores were exhausted. Faithful to a friendship which has all things in common. I went out to Dell's and bought a pot of apricot jam for tea, the time for which had arrived. As ill-luck would have it, both you fellows were detained at something or another--French, I rather think. I had to go to my tutor myself at seven, so I could not wait, and began my tea alone. Well, the jam was good, very good, hanged good; I never ate such jam! Had I had quite a third of it? Not quite, perhaps; I gave myself the benefit of the doubt. But, then, the gap looked awful. Happy thought! I would turn it out into a saucer, and you might take it for a sixpenny pot. After all, not expecting any, you would be pleased with that. But it looked rather more than a sixpenny pot, so I had a bit more to reduce. And then--you would not come, and you knew nothing about it. Why make two bites of a cherry? I finished it, threw the pot out of window, and held my tongue. But oh! Next day, when Kavanagh received his weekly allowance, and laid it out in treacle and sprats for the public good, I did indeed feel guilty." "But you ate the sprats and treacle all the same, I expect." "I did. I would not shirk my punishment, and flinch from the coals of fire which were heaped on my head. I even enjoyed them. But my conscience has been very sore, and feels better now than it has done for a long time." "You have not got absolution yet," said Forsyth. "Not by long chalks," cried Kavanagh. "Jam! And apricot of all jams. If you really want to wipe out the crime you must make restitution." "Gladly; but would not that be difficult?" "Not at all; you can do it in kind. At compound interest three pots will clear you, I should say; or, if it don't run to that, say two." "Two will do," echoed Forsyth. "Who's that at the door?" "It's me," said a youth--dressed in a chocolate coat with brass buttons--entering the room.