"French Varnish," said Whalley, with honest contempt, moved beyond his wont with indignation, though he did not understand the cause of Kenrick's anger. "I wonder why Kenrick should even condescend to notice what such fellows as you and Jones say. Come along, Ken; you know what we all think about those two;" and, putting his arm in Kenrick's, he almost dragged him from the scene, while Jones and Mackworth (conscious that there was not a single other boy who would not condemn their conduct as infamous when they understood it) were not sorry to move off in another direction. But when Whalley had taken Kenrick to a quiet place by the river side, and asked him "what had made him so furious?" he returned no answer, only hiding his face in his hands. He had indeed been cruelly insulted, wounded in his tenderest sensibilities; he felt that his best affections had been wantonly and violently lacerated. It made him more miserable than he had ever felt before, and he could not tolerate the wretched thought that his father's sad history, probably in some distorted form, had been, by some means or other, bruited about among unsympathising hearers, and made the common property of the school. He knew well indeed the natural delicacy of feeling which would prevent any other boy, except Jones or Mackworth, from ever alluding to it even in the remotest way. But that they should know at all the shameful charge which had broken his father's heart, and brought temporary suspicion and dishonour on his name, was gall and wormwood to him. _Yet, by what possible means could, this have become known to them_? Kenrick knew of one way only. He thought over what Jones had said. "A cart and blind horse--ah! I see; there is _only one person_ who could have told him about that. So, _Walter Evson_, you amuse yourself and Jones by making fun of our being poor, and by ridiculing what you saw in our house; a very good laugh you've all had over it in the dormitory, I've no doubt." Kenrick did not know that Jones had seen them from the window of the railway-carriage, and that as he had been visiting an aunt at no great distance, he had heard there the particulars of Mr Kenrick's history. He clutched angrily at the conclusion, that _Walter_ had betrayed him, and turned him into derision. Naturally passionate, growing up during the wilful years of opening boyhood without a father's wise control, he did not stop to inquire, but leapt at once to a false and obstinate inference. "It must be so; it clearly _is_ so," he thought; "yet I could not have believed it of him;" and he burst into a flood of bitter and angry tears.