In consideration for these services Cork had not interfered with Tomkins’ ambition to work hard. Cork was a man of large tolerance. If Tomkins liked to ‘sweat himself blue’ that was Tomkins’ look-out. So he contented himself with occasional badinage in which Tomkins was asked to explain the pleasure he derived from ‘oiling.’ But, of course, the sweepstake altered Cork’s attitude. He had drawn Tomkins and, if Tomkins could beat Rolland, Cork would win twelve shillings. Clearly Tomkins must spare no effort to beat Rolland. ‘Oil,’ instead of seeming an eccentric hobby, became a civic virtue. Cork began to take the liveliest interest in the progress of his young ward. Cork had been left near the bottom of the form, and Tomkins, who had come up with a head remove, sat just behind him. When Tomkins missed a question, Cork turned round and expressed by crude but intelligible signs his bitter disappointment. Mr. Strange, who was Cork’s housemaster as well as form-master, was very puzzled by this new development. ‘Why this sudden interest in Tomkins?’ he said one day. ‘I’m not sure that Tomkins is altogether grateful for your attentions.’ Tomkins wasn’t. Cork’s zeal quite put him off. Tomkins began to lose his nerve, and Rolland beat him all along the line. Cork was quite embittered by Tomkins’ failure. ‘Oh, yes, Tomkins,’ he said one day, ‘you can oil all right when it’s only to please yourself, but when it’s a question of twelve bob for me you simply foozle everything. You did a rotten rep. this morning. Your father’s a Baptist, isn’t he? Well, by gum! if you don’t come out top I’ll baptise you.’ Tomkins murmured nervously that his father was Church of England. Cork sat next to Mr. Strange at lunch, and on the fatal Sunday he did his best to pump Mr. Strange. ‘Has Tomkins come out top?’ he pleaded wistfully. ‘I should so like to know, sir.’ ‘My dear Cork,’ said Mr. Strange, ‘I can’t make you out. You don’t usually condescend to take the least interest in your work or anybody else’s. What’s in the wind?’ Cork was understood to say that the honour of the house was very dear to him, and that while he was doing his best for the house at footer, he expected Tomkins as the star scholar to do his best for the house in school. Mr. Strange asked him if he was feeling the heat. That afternoon a murmur of excitement ran round the form-room when Mr. Strange appeared. Besides the sweepstake, most of the Lower Fifth had contracted a number of side-bets on the result of the Fortnightly Order. Tomkins and Rolland both carried money, and for the first time in their school careers their respective achievements were a matter of general interest. Cork had despaired of Tomkins, and had vainly tried to ‘sell’ him for half a crown. But there were no offers.