"Jolly lucky shave for you, young Sarah," said Coxhead. "Thanks awfully," said I. "We may as well divide up the pool now?" suggested Warminster. With a generosity which was really touching, the Philosophers had clubbed together the shattered fragments of their term's pocket-money to assist Tempest in his financial troubles. They had done it ungrudgingly, nay enthusiastically, and it was not against them that the enthusiasm remained now as each one unexpectedly received back his Philosopher's mite from the depths of the kindly "pool." It is all very well keeping a secret like mine for twenty-four hours. It was an effort, but I did it, and prevailed on my comrades to keep it too. It was even harder work to prevail upon them as a matter of policy to accept the temporary supremacy of Crofter in the house. Nothing would induce them to refrain from cheering Tempest (much to his displeasure) on every possible occasion. It made it awkward for me sometimes when this happened in Crofter's presence; for as things now were in Sharpe's, a cheer for the old captain meant a hoot at the new; and I felt that Crofter, did the fellows only know all, did not deserve their resentment. After forty-eight hours I could not restrain myself any longer. It was not fair to myself, or Crofter, or Low Heath, that every one should suppose Tempest was to be expelled when he really was not. So, with some misgivings, I decided to put myself in his way and break the agreeable news to him, and so have everything cleared up before the end of term. It was not difficult to find an excuse. I had not been to Tempest's rooms since our unlucky quarrel, and had been suffering inconvenience ever since by the fact that my Latin Gradus was there. On the last day but one of the term, therefore, I developed a burning desire to consult my missing handbook, and must needs go in search of it. Tempest was sitting, miserably enough, before the fire, with his feet on the fender and his hands up to the back of his head as I entered. It was not till I was well in the room and had closed the door that he turned round and saw me. I thought at first he meant to fly at me, his face clouded so angrily. But it changed to a look of contempt as he said,-- "Well?" "Tempest, I'm awfully sorry, really I am, but--" "Don't let us have any of that. If I thought you'd meant it, I should precious soon know what to do. You've done me about the worst turn a fellow could, and if you weren't a conceited young ass it would be some use thrashing you. As it is, somebody else may do that when I'm gone." The wretchedness of his tone quite touched me. I forgot my anger and sense of resentment, and all the old affection and loyalty came back with a rush. How could I ever have imagined a fellow like Crofter was worthy to hold a candle to my old Dux?