This proceeding greatly irritated the Fifth, who had hoped at least to make their class-fellow smart while they had the opportunity. They greeted his departure now with a general chorus of hissing, and revenged themselves in his absence by making the most of Wraysford. "Surely the fellow won't be allowed to take the scholarship after this?" said Ricketts. "The Doctor must see through it all." "It's very queer if he doesn't," said Bullinger. "The scholarship belongs to Wray," said Braddy, "and I mean to say it's a blackguard shame if he doesn't get it!" "It's downright robbery, that's what it is!" said another; "the fellow ought to be kicked out of the school!" "I vote some one tells the Doctor," said Braddy. "Suppose you go and tell him now, yourself," said Pembury, with a sarcastic smile; "you could do it capitally. What do you say?" Braddy coloured. Pembury was always snubbing him. "I don't want to tell tales," he said. "What I mean is, Wraysford ought not to be cheated out of his scholarship." "It's a lucky thing Wray has got you to set things right for him," snarled Pembury, amid a general titter. Braddy subsided at this, and left his tormentor master of the situation. "There's no use our saying or doing anything," said that worthy. "We shall probably only make things worse. It's sure to come out in time, and till then we must grin and bear it." "All very well," said some one, "but Greenfield will be grinning too." "I fancy not," said Pembury. "I'm not a particular angel myself, but I've a notion if I had cheated a schoolfellow I should be a trifle off my grinning form; I don't know." This modest confession caused some amusement, and helped a good deal to restore the class to a better humour. "After all, I don't envy the fellow his feelings this minute," continued Pembury, following up his advantage. "And I envy his prospects in the Fifth still less," said Ricketts. "If you take my advice," said Pembury, "you'll leave him pretty much to himself. Greenfield is a sort of fellow it's not easy to score off; and some of you would only make fools of yourselves if you tried to do it." Wraysford had stood by during this conversation, torn by conflicting emotions. He was undoubtedly bitterly disappointed to have missed the scholarship; but that was as nothing to the knowledge that it was his friend, his own familiar friend, who had turned against him and thus grievously wronged him. Yet with all his sense of injury he could hardly stand by and listen to all the bitter talk about Oliver in his absence without a sense of shame. Two days ago he would have flared up at the first word, and given the rash speaker something to remember. Now it was his misery to stand by and hear his old chum abused and despised, and to feel that he deserved every word that was spoken of him! If he could only have found one word to say on his behalf!