don't want him, or anybody else to get pummelled to powder; I'll find
it out for myself, I say. Won't my old aunt be in a way though, when
she sees the surplice, and finds she has another to make! I say, Hurst,
didn't you croak out that solo! Their lordships in the wigs will be
soliciting your photograph as a keepsake."

"I hope they'll set it in diamonds," retorted Hurst.

The boys began to file out, putting on their trenchers, as they
clattered down the steps. Charley Channing sat himself down in the
cloisters on a pile of books, as if willing that the rest should pass
out before him. His brother saw him sitting there, and came up to him,
speaking in an undertone.

"Charley, you know the rules of the school: one boy must not tell of
another. As Bywater says, you'd get pummelled to powder."

"Look here, Tom. I tell you--"

"Hold your tongue, boy!" sharply cried Tom Channing. "Do you forget
that I am a senior? You heard the master's words. We know no brothers
in school life, you must remember."

Charley laughed. "Tom, you think I am a child, I believe. I didn't
enter the school yesterday. All I was going to tell you was this: I
don't know any more than you who inked the surplice; and suspicion goes
for nothing."

"All right," said Tom Channing, as he flew after the rest; and Charley
sat on, and fell into a reverie.