"Why don't you go and ask the Doctor?" said Wraysford, laughing; "he'd be delighted to tell you." "What a humbug you are, Wray! I say, suppose we shut up work now and have a turn on the river. I'm certain it will do us more good than cracking our skulls here." "Just what I had been thinking. I'm game, and it can't make much difference." "I suppose Loman is grinding up to the last?" "I suppose so; I was almost in hopes he wouldn't keep it up." "Never mind, it will all be over on Monday; that's a comfort! Come along, old man. Suppose we get young Stee to cox us up to the lock and back." Hue and cry was forthwith made for Stephen, but he was not to be found. He was out, Paul said; at the post, or somewhere. "Oh, all right; you can come and cox us yourself, youngster," said Wraysford. "Cox you!" exclaimed Paul; "why, ain't the Nightingale exam coming on, then, on Monday?" "Of course it is!" "And you two going out to row! I say, the Sixth will win it if you don't look-out!" said Paul, in a very concerned voice. It was quite a revelation to the two boys to discover how great was the interest taken by outsiders in the coming event. Paul was in a great state of alarm, and was actually inclined to refuse to aid and abet what he imagined to be a wicked waste of precious opportunity, until, putting his head into Loman's study, he found that the Sixth Form fellow was also not at work. When Oliver and Wraysford appeared in boating flannels in the playground they created as much sensation as if they had been ghosts. "You don't mean to say you're going out, you fellows?" exclaimed Ricketts, one of the idle ones of the Fifth. "Yes, I do," said Wraysford. "But the Nightingale, I say?" "That's not till Monday." "I know; but aren't you grinding for it? I say, don't let them beat you! Hadn't you better work instead of going out?" Ricketts, by the way, had not done a stroke of work that he could possibly help all the term! All the other Fifth Form fellows they encountered echoed more or less anxiously the same advice. But the two friends were obdurate. Threats, promises, entreaties, would not put them off their row up the river, and they went on their way, leaving behind them an unusual gloom on the spirits of their dearest friends. The only person who seemed really glad to see them leaving their work was Bramble. He, with his friend Padger, and a few other irreconcilables, were just returning from a rat-catching expedition, and the sight of the Fifth Form heroes in boating costume filled them with joy. "Hullo--my eye--hurrah!" shouted Bramble, taking in the situation in a moment. "There they go! I hope they get drowned; don't you, Padger?" Padger was understood to assent to this benevolent aspiration. "Go it. _You'll_ get the Nightingale! I thought you would! Hope you get drowned, do you hear! Hurrah for the Sixth!"