The porter growled. He knew that he did not dare to close them before dusk, almost dark, and he knew that Hamish knew it too; and therefore he looked upon the remark as a quiet bit of sarcasm. “I wish the dean ‘ud give me leave to shut them boys out of ‘em,” he exclaimed. “It ‘ud be a jovial day for me!” Hamish and Arthur passed out, wishing him good night. He did not reply to it, but banged the gate on their heels, locked it, and turned to retrace his steps through the cloisters. The college boys, who had hidden themselves from his view, came forward again. “He has got off scot-free to-night, but perhaps he won’t do so to-morrow,” cried Bywater. “Were you going to set upon him?” asked Arthur. “We were not going to put a finger upon him; I give you my word, we were not,” said Hurst. “What, then, were you going to do?” But the boys would not be caught. “It might stop fun, you know, Mr. Hamish. You might get telling your brother Tom; and Tom might let it out to Gaunt; and Gaunt might turn crusty and forbid it. We were going to serve the fellow out; but not to touch him or to hurt him; and that’s enough.” “As you please,” said Hamish. “He is a surly old fellow.” “He is an old brute! he’s a dog in a kennel! he deserves hanging!” burst from the throng of boys. “What do you think he went and did this afternoon?” added Hurst to the two Channings. “He sneaked up to the dean with a wretched complaint of us boys, which hadn’t a word of truth in it; not a syllable, I assure you. He did it only because Gaunt had put him in a temper at one o’clock. The dean did not listen to him, that’s one good thing. How _jolly_ he’d have been, just at this moment, if you two had not come up! Wouldn’t he, boys?” The boys burst into a laugh; roar upon roar, peal upon peal; shrieking and holding their sides, till the very Boundaries echoed again. Laughing is infectious, and Hamish and Arthur shrieked out with them, not knowing in the least what they were laughing at. But Arthur was heavy at heart in the midst of it. “Do you owe much money, Hamish?” he inquired, after they had left the boys, and were walking soberly along, under the quiet elm-trees. “More than I can pay, old fellow, just at present,” was the answer. “But is it _much_, Hamish?” “No, it is not much, taking it in the abstract. Quite a trifling sum.” Arthur caught at the word “trifling;” it seemed to dissipate his fears. Had he been alarming himself for nothing! “Is it ten pounds, Hamish?” “Ten pounds!” repeated Hamish, in a tone of mockery. “That would be little indeed.” “Is it fifty?” “I dare say it may be. A pound here and a pound there, and a few pounds elsewhere--yes, taking it altogether, I expect it would be fifty.” “And how much more?” thought Arthur to himself. “You said it was a trifling sum, Hamish!”