A look of the most withering description was the only answer Louis received; it was enough, however, to deter him from repeating his question.
Happily, Reginald did not see it.
“How do you like our new-comer, Trevannion?” asked Hamilton, linking his arm in his friend's, preparatory to a short, after-tea turn in the playground. “There is something very peculiar about him—insolent, I think.”
“He's a nice fellow, in my opinion,” said Trevannion.
“A very knowing chap,” said Salisbury. “Has he been here before?”
“No,” said Frank Digby; “but somebody's been kind enough to give the full particulars, history, and lives, peccadilloes, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, of the gentlemen, generally, and individually, at Ashfield Academy. Why, Hamilton, he called Trevannion and Salisbury by their names, without any introduction, and is as much up to every thing here as yourself, I believe.”
“I don't much fancy him,” said Hamilton; “and strongly suspect he won't add much to our comfort.”
“He doesn't like your pet, I suppose, then,” said Trevannion, marking the slight color that rose in Hamilton's face. “He told me of your strange rencontre in the class-room; he has taken a fancy, I am sure, to you.”
Hamilton did not look particularly delighted, and changed the subject to one on which he and Trevannion conversed most amicably till past their usual time for re-entering the study.
Norman did not come among them that evening till prayer-time; and, to his great satisfaction, Louis saw very little of him for the next day or two.