"It strikes me every answer I give will tell against me. All I hope is that you get the scholarship." "I mean to try, just like you and Loman." And so they went into breakfast, which was a solemn meal, and despite Stephen's care in hunting up delicacies, not very well partaken of. It seemed ages before the nine o'clock bell summoned them down to the Fifth Form room. Here, however, the sympathy and encouragement of their class-fellows amply served to pass the time till the examination began. "Well, you fellows," cried Pembury, as the two entered, "do you feel like winning?" "Not more than usual," said Oliver. "How do you feel?" "Oh, particularly cheerful, for I've nothing to do all day, I find. I'm not in for the Nightingale, or for the Mathematical Medal, or for the English Literature. Simon's in for that, you know, so there's no chance for any one." Simon smiled very blandly at this side compliment. "So you fellows," continued Tony, "may command my services from morning to night if you like." "Loman was grinding hard all yesterday," said Braddy. "I'm afraid he'll be rather a hot one to beat." "But we _must_ beat him, mind, you fellows," said Ricketts, calmly, comprehending the whole class in his "we." "Why, Wray," said another, "how jolly blue you look! Don't go and funk it, old man, or it's all UP." "Who's going to funk it?" said Oliver, impatiently, on his friend's behalf. "I tell you Wray will most likely win." "Well, as long as one of you does," said Tom Senior, with noble impartiality, "we don't care which; do we, Braddy?" "Of course not." So, then, all this sympathy and encouragement were not for the two boys at all, but for their Form. They might just as well have been two carefully trained racehorses starting on a race with heavy odds upon them. The Doctor's entry, however, put an end to any further talk, and, as usual, a dead silence ensued after the boys had taken their seats. The Doctor looked a little uneasy. Doubtless he was impressed, too, by the importance of the occasion. He proceeded to call over the lists of candidates for the different examinations in a fidgety manner, very unlike his usual self, and then turning abruptly to the class, said: "The Mathematical Medal candidates will remain here for examination. The English Literature and Nightingale Scholarship candidates will be examined in the Sixth Form room. Boys not in for either of these examinations may go to their studies till the twelve o'clock bell rings. Before you disperse, however,"--and here the Doctor grew still more fidgety--"I want to mention one matter which I have already mentioned in the Sixth. I mention it not because I suspect any boy here of a dishonourable act, but because--the matter being a mystery--I feel I must not neglect the most remote opportunity of clearing it up." What on earth was coming? It was as good as a ghost story, every one was so spellbound and mystified.