"Well, good night, then," said Grey, and went on, leaving Tom standing in the porch. On the way up from the school he had almost made up his mind to go to Hardy's rooms that night. He longed and yet feared to do so; and, on the whole, was not sorry for an excuse. Their first meeting must be alone, and it would be a very embarrassing one, for him at any rate. Grey, he hoped, would tell Hardy of his visit to the school, and that would show that he was coming round, and make the meeting easier. His talk with Grey, too, had removed one great cause of uneasiness from his mind. It was now quite clear that he had no suspicion of the quarrel, and, if Hardy had not told him, no one else could know of it. Altogether, he strolled into the quadrangle a happier and sounder man than he had been since his first visit to "The Choughs", and looked up and answered with his old look and voice when he heard his name called from one of the first-floor windows. The hailer was Drysdale, who was leaning out in lounging coat and velvet cap, and enjoying a cigar as usual, in the midst of the flowers of his hanging garden. "You've heard the good news, I suppose?" "No, what do you mean?" "Why, Blake has got the Latin verse." "Hurrah! I'm so glad." "Come up and have a weed." Tom ran up the staircase and into Drysdale's rooms, and was leaning out of the window at his side in another minute. "What does he get by it?" he said, "do you know?" "No; some books bound in Russia, I dare say, with the Oxford arms, and 'Dominus illuminatio mea,' on the back." "No money?" "Not much--perhaps a ten'ner," answered Drysdale, "but no end of [Greek text] kudoz, I suppose." "It makes it look well for his first, don't you think? But I wish he had got some money for it. I often feel very uncomfortable about that bill, don't you?" "Not I, what's the good? It's nothing when you are used to it. Besides, it don't fall due for another six weeks." "But if Blake can't meet it then?" said Tom. "Well, it will be vacation, and I'll trouble greasy Benjamin to catch me then." "But you don't mean to say you won't pay it?" said Tom in horror. "Pay it! You may trust Benjamin for that. He'll pull round his little usuries somehow." "Only we have promised to pay on a certain day, you know." "Oh, of course, that's the form. That only means that he can't pinch us sooner." "I do hope, though, Drysdale, that it will be paid on the day," said Tom, who could not quite swallow the notion of forfeiting his word, even though it were only a promise to pay to a scoundrel. "All right. You've nothing to do with it, remember. He won't bother you. Besides, you can plead infancy, if the worst comes to the worst. There's such a queer old bird gone to your friend Hardy's rooms." The mention of Hardy broke the disagreeable train of thought into which Tom was falling, and he listened eagerly as Drysdale went on.