Nor did he in the least drop his old friends, except Owen. A coolness grew up between the latter and Eric, not unmingled with a little mutual contempt. Eric sneered at Owen as a fellow who did nothing but grind all day long, and had no geniality in him; while Owen pitied the love of popularity which so often led Eric into delinquencies, which he himself despised. Owen had, indeed, but few friends in the school; the only boy who knew him well enough to respect and like him thoroughly was Russell, who found in him the only one who took the same high, ground with himself. But Russell loved the good in every one, and was loved by all in return, and Eric he loved most of all, while he often mourned over his increasing failures.
One day as the two were walking together in the green playground, Mr. Gordon passed by; and as the boys touched their caps, he nodded and smiled pleasantly at Russell, but hardly noticed, and did not return Eric's salute. He had begun to dislike the latter more and more, and had given him up altogether as one of the reprobates.
"What a surly devil that is," said Eric, when he had passed; "did you see how he purposely cut me?"
"A surly ...? Oh Eric, that's the first time I ever heard you swear."
Eric blushed. He hadn't meant the word to slip out in Russell's hearing, though similar expressions were common enough in his talk with other boys. But he didn't like to be reproved, even by Russell, and in the ready spirit of self-defence, he answered--
"Pooh, Edwin, you don't call that swearing, do you? You're so strict, so religious, you know. I love you for it, but then, there are none like you. Nobody thinks anything of swearing here."
Russell was silent.
"Besides, what can be the harm of it? it means nothing. I was thinking the other night, and I concluded that you and Owen are the only two fellows here who don't swear."
Russell still said nothing.
"And, after all, I didn't swear; I only called that fellow a surly devil."