"Now, kid," said Tempest, when we were left alone, "how long are you going to play the fool? Take your time; but let us know when you've done, that's all." "Really, I'm not fooling; I know I ought to have had on the lavender--" Tempest laughed. A jolly laugh it was, though it frequently preceded a licking. "You mean to say you sucked in all that rot? I thought I'd just see how far you'd let yourself be humbugged; I'm sorry I didn't tell you to stand on your head. I don't doubt you'd have done it." I had painful reason to think he might be right. "Why, even Dicky Brown was too old a bird for that sort of chaff," said Tempest; "he twigged it at once--and he's a day boy. Hand me that cane out of the cricket box, there's a good fellow, and hold out your hand. Don't yell; only muffs do that." "What?" I exclaimed, "am I to be licked, Dux?" "Don't call me Dux here. Yes, rather--three on each hand." "But Mr Sharpe only said--" "Sharpe--what's he got to do with it? Come on, look alive, or I shall be late for tea." I could barely be angry with him. He didn't seem to be able to see the matter from my point of view at all, and was so genuinely friendly with it all. "The third will be a hot one," said he, as I held out my hand; "but I don't want to break the cane--it's a good one." The third _was_ a hot one. "Hurt you much?" said Tempest, carefully examining his weapon. "Middling," said I. "Now the other hand. I suppose you've not got to know many chaps yet? Did you get any cricket in the vac.?" "No," said I, extending my left in a deprecating way. "We did," said he. "We were jolly near licking--" "Ow!" "Feel that much? Good cane, isn't it? Now the other two will be easy." To do him justice they were, or would have been had they not fallen uncomfortably near the site of the first. "Stick the cane back," said he,--"and look here," he added in the old friendly way which always captivated me, "if you'll take any advice you'll drop playing the fool. It may be funny, but it doesn't pay. Fellows get bored by it." "But I really--" "I know you can't help it. Your best dodge is to lie low for a bit, and keep out of everybody's way." "I never meant--" "Of course you didn't. You can't help being an ass, but don't swagger or brag about it. Go easy--and, by the way, whatever you do, forget you're an exhibitioner. It's not your fault, I know, but it's a sort of thing to be lived down up here. Be nobody, that's the rule! then you'll worry through." "But _you_ were an exhibitioner, Tempest," I suggested, "weren't you?" "Yes, but I kept it dark. Do you know the chap who asked me to tea?" "No." "He's Pridgin--in the Eleven--makes beastly bad jokes, but not a bad chap. You'll like fagging for him." "What--am I to fag?" said I, undergoing another shock. I had made quite sure exhibitioners were exempt from that indignity.