over the matter, it was best to run as few risks as possible. Stanning
was one of those people who produce great results in their work without
seeming to do anything for them.

So Sheen shut himself up in his study and ground grimly away at his
books, and for exercise went for cross-country walks. It was a
monotonous kind of existence. For the space of a week the only
Wrykinian who spoke a single word to him was Bruce, the son of the
Conservative candidate for Wrykyn: and Bruce's conversation had been
limited to two remarks. He had said, "You might play that again, will
you?" and, later, "Thanks". He had come into the music-room while Sheen
was practising one afternoon, and had sat down, without speaking, on a
chair by the door. When Sheen had played for the second time the piece
which had won his approval, Bruce thanked him and left the room. As the
solitary break in the monotony of the week, Sheen remembered the
incident rather vividly.

Since the great rout of Albert and his minions outside Cook's, things,
as far as the seniors were concerned, had been quiet between school and
town. Linton and Dunstable had gone to and from Cook's two days in
succession without let or hindrance. It was generally believed that,
owing to the unerring way in which he had put his head in front of
Drummond's left on that memorable occasion, the scarlet-haired one was
at present dry-docked for repairs. The story in the school--it had
grown with the days--was that Drummond had laid the enemy out on the
pavement with a sickening crash, and that he had still been there at,
so to speak, the close of play. As a matter of fact, Albert was in
excellent shape, and only an unfortunate previous engagement prevented
him from ranging the streets near Cook's as before. Sir William Bruce
was addressing a meeting in another part of the town, and Albert