The small boys, not so much though, I fear, out of reverence for the day as for partisanship of the Fifth, were very indignant on the subject, and held a small full-dress meeting after tea, to protest against one of the candidates taking such an unfair advantage over the others. "He ought to be expelled!" exclaimed Paul. "All very well," said Bramble. "Greenfield senior's cramming too, he's been in all the afternoon." "He's not cramming, he's got a headache!" said Stephen. "Oh, yes, I dare say, don't you, Padger? Got a headache--that's a nice excuse for copying out of cribs on a Sunday." "He doesn't use cribs, and I tell you he's not working!" said Stephen, indignantly. "Shut up, do you hear, or you'll get turned out, Potboy!" This was too much for Stephen, who left the assembly in disgust, after threatening to take an early opportunity on the next day of giving his adversary "one for himself," a threat which we may as well say at once here he did not fail to carry out with his wonted energy. The long Sunday ended at last--a Sunday spoiled to many of the boys of Saint Dominic's by distracting thoughts and cares--a day which many impatiently wished over, and which some wished would never give place to the morrow. But that morrow came at last, and with it rose Oliver, strengthened and hopeful once more for the trial that lay before him. He was early at Wraysford's study, whom he found only just out of bed. "Look alive, old man. What do you say to a dip in the river before breakfast? We've got plenty of time, and it will wash off the cobwebs before the exam." "All serene," said Wraysford, not very cheerily, though. "Anything's better than doing nothing." "Why, Wray, I thought you weren't going to let yourself get down about it?" "I thought you weren't going to let yourself get up--why, you're quite festive this morning." "Well, you see, a fellow can't do better than his best, and so as I have done my best I don't mean to punish myself by getting in the blues." "Pity you didn't make that resolution yesterday. You were awfully glum, you know, then; and now I've got my turn, you see." "Oh, never mind, a plunge in the Shar will set you all right." "Stee," said he, addressing his younger brother, who at that moment entered proudly in his new capacity as Wraysford's fag, "mind you have breakfast ready sharp by eight, do you hear? the best you can get out of Wray's cupboard. Come along, old boy." And so they went down to the river, Oliver in unusually good spirits, and Wraysford most unusually depressed and nervous. The bathe was not a great success, for Wraysford evidently did not enjoy it. "What's wrong, old man?" said Oliver, as they walked back, "aren't you well?" "I'm all right," said Wraysford. "But you're out of spirits. It's odd that I was in dumps and you were in good spirits up to the fatal day, and now things are just reversed. But, I say, you mustn't get down, you know, or it'll tell against you at the exam."