"So we're beaten," Gerald said; "it's an awful blow!"
"Not to me," Reginald replied, dropping his voice to a confidential whisper; "I've made a good thing of it to-day. I backed our visitors."
"I've lost!" Gerald exclaimed bitterly. "I don't know what I shall do. I haven't a penny to pay any one."
"Ask your father to come to the rescue. Get a draw from him. I see he's here! Or, how about your uncle?"
"That won't do."
Reginald stood thoughtfully whistling under his breath. Perhaps his conscience pricked him at the sight of his companion's dejected appearance, for after hesitating a few minutes, he put his hand in his pocket and drew out half a sovereign.
"I can lend you that if it's any good to you," he said, "and you can pay me at some future day. I'm flush of money at present, wonderful to say."
Gerald was quite overcome with gratitude. After all, Hope was really a good-natured fellow. He accepted the loan with a profusion of thanks, and immediately went and paid his debts; after which he joined his own people, and was so merry and light-hearted, that his uncle remarked one would have thought the Grammar School had won the match.
Later in the evening, when Gerald found himself alone with Mr. Bailey, he asked him if he had known Miss Goodwin's brother.
"Why, yes," was the response. "I remember him as a young man when I was a boy. A fine, handsome fellow he was too, but no good—no good!"