But Hope, though he certainly must have heard, elected not to stop, and hurried on without so much as a glance in Gerald's direction, and joined a group of boys about his own age.
"He's like that," Gilbert remarked in what he meant to be a kindly tone, for he was really sorry for his companion's mortification; "he doesn't want you now he's got his old companions. He found it all very well to knock about with you in the holidays when he'd no one else to chum with, but it's different now. Those fellows he's talking to are boarders. If I were you—"
Gerald waited to hear no more; he turned abruptly away, not desirous of listening to unpalatable truths; but after school hours, when he was hurrying down the street on his way home to dinner, Reginald Hope overtook him and walked by his side.
"I say, Willis, I wouldn't stop to talk to you in the playground because I can't stand Gilbert Mickle," Hope said apologetically; "you understand?"
Gerald's face cleared; he felt he had been unjust to his friend. Of course Hope did not like Gilbert. He might have known that was his reason for passing without a word. The lame boy was not a favourite with any one.
"Oh, it's all right!" Gerald answered, thinking that it had been mean of Gilbert to try to put him against Hope. "I don't care for Gilbert Mickle myself; he's so spiteful."
"Was he spiteful about me? Oh, well, you needn't say; I can see by your face he was. But, never mind about him, now. How do you think you will like the Grammar School?"
"I hardly know. I haven't made friends with any of the boys yet. I only know you, and the Mickles. Rabjohns spoke to me."
"Oh, he's nobody! His father's a butcher, you know. If he was a lord, Rabjohns couldn't think more of himself. I say, Willis, how much pocket-money are you to have a week?"
Gerald told him. It was a generous allowance for a boy of his age, for his father had lately raised the amount; but Hope appeared to consider it quite inadequate.