"I suppose you are quite sure that you brought it away from school with you, Ralph?" said Mr. St. Clive; and that brought just one little ray of hope. Ralph could not be quite sure. He thought that he had done so--he always took it from the pocket of the coat he took off and transferred it to that of the one he was going to wear. He had taken off his school-jacket when he left that afternoon, and though he felt nearly sure that he had done so, he could not be quite certain that he had taken his pocket-book from the pocket. But he felt so anxious and worried that all the pleasure of the evening was gone; and when Warren finally said good-night and ran off to his own home, it was still with the reflection that Ralph Rexworth must indeed be a queer sort of chap, or else there must be some extra special reason for his worrying over that pocket-book in the way he did. And when Warren had gone, Irene came and sat by her friend's side, being, indeed, a staunch little friend herself, and wanting to do something to comfort him; and she whispered again how she sympathized with him, and that perhaps the book was still at school, or, again, if it were really lost, it would be sure to be found by some one who would be likely to see the advertisement which Mr. St. Clive said should be printed, and then they would certainly bring it back to him. And then she talked of the deed which Ralph had done that day, and how glad she was that he had been the means of saving Horace Elgert; and how, in returning good for evil, he would be sure to conquer; and just for the moment Ralph forgot his loss, and was interested. "I could not do anything else, Irene," he said. "When it comes to saving a fellow's life, one cannot stop to consider whether they are friends or enemies. It had to be done, though it has cost me enough," he added sadly. "You think that you lost your pocket-book then?" she said; and he nodded. "Yes. I must have jerked it out of my pocket when I threw my coat off." "Well, then some of the other boys will most likely have found it, and they will bring it back to you on Monday." "I hope, if they do find it, they will not open it and get playing about with its contents," he said anxiously; and she laughed. "Why, how silly, Ralph! How can they possibly find out to whom it belongs unless they open it? Why should you mind that? You have nothing in it that you are afraid for people to see?" "Oh, no, no; of course not!" he answered quickly. It was not that. He could not explain it to Irene--he could hardly understand it himself--but the idea of other hands touching that, and other eyes prying at its treasured contents, was very repugnant to Ralph's feelings.