“Good-bye. As I should not much wonder if we were to meet again sooner than you at all expect, I wish you to remember, that if at any time you require advice or assistance you will find a friend in Ernest Carrington.” He then touched Wilfred’s arm, and drawing him aside, observed,--“I have allowed you to run on in a way which I am sure you would have endeavoured to avoid had you known who I was. I did so, not from any mean wish to entrap you into confessions of which I might afterwards make use to your disadvantage, but simply in order to gain some insight into your true character; and now I will make a compact with you: as long as you behave kindly towards your two cousins, who interest me exceedingly, and befriend them as your superior knowledge of the world” (the slightly ironical emphasis with which he pronounced the last few words was not lost upon his auditor, who, for once in his life, felt conscious that he had made-himself ridiculous), “and especially of the little world comprised in a boys’ school, will enable you to do, I shall forget anything peculiar I may have heard this morning. I will only add, that I have misjudged your character if you consider the condition I have proposed a hard one.” “Before I attempt to make a suitable reply to your mysterious and startling communication, allow me, sir, to inquire, in the most respectful manner possible, first, _who_ you are? secondly, _what_ you are?” returned Wilfred-Jacob, in a quieter tone than he had yet made use of. “The Rev. Ernest Carrington, classical and mathematical master (or, familiarly, Clat. and Mat.) in Dr. Donkiestir’s school at Tickletown, at your service,” was the reply. The first effect of this announcement was to elicit from the “fast young gentleman” a prolonged and expressive whistle; next came an aside, “Well, if I haven’t gone and put my foot into it deepish _rather_, it’s a pity.” Then, turning to Ernest, he asked, abruptly,--“’Pon your honour as a gentleman, Mr. Carrington, if I stick to the young Colvilles like a trump, you won’t peach?” “Upon my honour,” was the frank reply. “It’s a bargain, then,” rejoined Wilfred. “And now, sir, before we sink the amenities of social life in the less jovial relationship of master and pupil, allow me the honour of shaking hands with you, while at the same time you must permit me to express my opinion, that your conduct has been brickish in the extreme.” With a smile called forth by the peculiar school-boy phraseology, and strange admixture of good feeling and never-failing impudence, of his new ally, Ernest shook hands with him good-naturedly, and turned to depart; but Wilfred Jacob detained him. “One slight additional favour would oblige,” he said. “A discreet silence in regard to the cigar episode would be a desirable addenda to our compact. Our friend Donkiestir has prejudices--_verbum sat_--a nod is as good as a wink. Farewell we meet again at Philippi.’”