"And they loved you, Edwin, dearly, and told me, almost the last thing,
that they hoped we should always be friends. Stop! they gave me
something for you." Eric opened his carpet-bag, and took out a little
box carefully wrapped up, which he gave to Russell. It contained a
pretty silver watch, and inside the case was engraved--"Edwin Russell,
from the mother of his friend Eric."

The boy's eyes glistened with joyful surprise. "How good they are," he
said; "I shall write and thank Mrs. Williams directly we get to Roslyn."

They had a fine bright voyage, and arrived that night. Eric, as a new
comer, was ushered at once into Dr. Rowlands' drawing-room, where the
head master was sitting with his wife and children. His greeting was
dignified, but not unkindly; and, on saying "good night," he gave Eric a
few plain words of affectionate advice.

At that moment Eric hardly cared for advice. He was full of life and
spirits, brave, bright, impetuous, tingling with hope, in the flush and
flower of boyhood. He bounded down the stairs, and in another minute
entered the large room where all Dr. Rowlands' boarders assembled, and
where most of them lived, except the few privileged sixth form, and
other boys who had "studies." A cheer greeted his entrance into the
room. By this time most of the Rowlandites knew him, and were proud to
have him among their number. They knew that he was clever enough to get
them credit in the school, and, what was better still, that he would be
a capital accession of strength to the cricket and football. Except
Barker, there was not one who had not a personal liking for him, and on
this occasion even Barker was gracious.