One of the last to arrive during the day was Tempest, who had run from the station, and came in flushed with exercise, but grave and tight about the lips. The ovation he received from the Philosophers scarcely drew a smile from him, and when he reached his own study he slammed the door ominously and cheerlessly behind him. We none of us liked it. "What's it to be?" said Coxhead. "Is he to be cock of the house this term, or has he chucked it up?" That was the question which was agitating us all. Till the form orders were posted to-morrow no one could tell. Crofter, we knew, had been doing all he knew to get ahead, and considering the slack way in which Tempest had let things go all last term, it seemed very much as if he might succeed. If he did, our duty would be a difficult one. Crofter had a claim on us for having saved Tempest from being expelled, and we could hardly refuse to own him should he come out cock of the house. On the other hand. Tempest was the man of our heart, and our tender imagination failed to picture him in any secondary position in Sharpe's,--secondary to Crofter, above all other things. The day closed with one curious incident. Langrish came to me after supper in a state of wrathful perturbation. "Look here, young Sarah," said he, "are you Tempest's fag or not? That's all about it." "I don't know," said I; "I was, but he told me--" "He told you he didn't want a cad like you hanging about his place. All very well--that doesn't follow I'm his fag as well as Crofter's. Here, catch hold; you've got to take this to Crofter. _I'm_ not going to take it--it means a licking most likely, and I don't see why I'm to be let in for it." He handed me an envelope, evidently containing coin, addressed "Crofter," in Tempest's well-known writing. I did not relish the commission, for I had my guess as to the contents of the missive. Curiosity, however, prompted me to take it and proceed to Crofter's study. "Well, youngster," said Crofter, "turned up again? Have you seen Tempest yet?" "Yes--he sent this," said I. Crofter took the envelope and opened it. Five sovereigns and a half- sovereign dropped out on the table. No letter accompanied the money, but its meaning was clear enough. Crofter's brow contracted, and his habitual smile deserted him for once. "What is this? Some mistake," said he. "It's what he owes you," suggested I. "I suppose so; but that was only £4 17 shillings 6 pence." "Perhaps the rest is something for yourself," I remarked, making myself scarce in time to escape the task of returning the change. Bother it! Crofter must square this part of the business up with his enemy. _I_ didn't want to be dragged any more into it. There was a rush for the house board early next morning to learn our fate as to the captaincy of Sharpe's. "Whew!" said Langrish, as we reached it; "bracketed." So it was. Tempest's and Crofter's names were braced together at the head of the list.