He was silent all the way home. The junior did not dare to speak to him--scarcely to look up in his face. Yet it did occur to him that if any one had a right to be in a bad temper over that afternoon's proceedings it was Mrs Wisdom, and not Rollitt. As they neared the school, Fisher minor began to feel dreadfully compromised by his company. Rollitt's clothes were wet and muddy; his hands and face were dirty with his scramble along the tree; his air was morose and savage, and his stride was such that the junior had to trot a step or two every few yards to keep up. What would fellows think of him! Suppose Ranger were to see him, or, still worse, the Modern Wheatfield, or-- At this moment fate solved his problem. For just ahead of him, turning the corner of Fowler's Wall, was the cadaverous individual who owed him half a crown. "Oh, excuse me, Rollitt," said he, "there's a fellow there I want to speak to. Good-bye." Rollitt did not appear either to hear the words or notice the desertion, but stalked on till he reached Wakefields'. The house seemed to be empty. Evidently none of the other half-holiday makers had returned. Study doors stood open; an unearthly silence reigned in Wally's quarters. Even the tuck-shop was deserted. The only person he met was Dangle, the clubs' secretary, who had penetrated into the enemy's quarter in order to confer with his dear colleague the treasurer as to calling a committee meeting, and was now returning unsuccessful. "Ah, Rollitt," said he, "tell Fisher major, will you, I want to see him as soon as he comes in. I'd leave a line for him, but I don't know his room." Whether Rollitt heard or not, he had to guess. At any rate he hardly felt sanguine that his message would be delivered. As for Rollitt, he shut himself into his study with a bang, and might have been heard by any one who took the trouble to listen, pacing up and down the floor for a long time that evening. He did not put in an appearance in the common room, and although Yorke sent to ask him to tea, he forgot all about the invitation, and even if he had remembered it, would have forgotten whether he had said Yes or No. The next morning--Sunday--just as the chapel bell was beginning to ring, Widow Wisdom was startled by a loud knock at her door. "Oh, Master Rollitt," said she, and her eyes were red still, "is the boat safe after all?" "No; but I've got you another. Farmer Gay's was for sale on the lake-- I've bought it. It's yours now." "Farmer Gay's--mine? Oh, go on, Master Rollitt, how could _you_ buy a boat any more than me? You've no money to spare, I know." "It's yours--here's the receipt," said the boy, with almost a scowl. "But, Master Rollitt--" But Master Rollitt had gone to be in time for chapel. CHAPTER SEVEN. TRIAL BY JURY.