"Pooh!" said Simpson. "I don't care; everybody knows it's true."
"He owned as much as that himself," chimed in Archer, who owed Jim a grudge.
"Perhaps you think he wanted Braithwaite to get drowned," exclaimed Dick sarcastically, "and that he and I put up the little job between us?"
"I'm not saying anything against you," replied Simpson; "but I do say it's Hartland's fault we lost the 'Gayton,' and you can take it how you like."
This was the view held by many of the Deanery boys, who were very sore that the scholarship had gone to St. Paul's. Thus the subject of the tragedy was brought to the front again, and during the interval at morning school Jim could not help overhearing some of the remarks. Angry and miserable, he went to a corner of the playground, where Dick followed him.
"Look here, Jim," said the Angel cheerily; "don't mope about the 'Gayton.' We've all seen the list, of course, and I'm awfully sorry you aren't in it. It's too ridiculous putting me above you. I know that, and so do the others. It's like turning you out of the eleven to put Simpson in; but buck up, old chap—you'll soon get over it."
"I wasn't thinking about you, Dicky," replied his chum. "I'm jolly glad you're high up."
"What are you looking so miserable about, then?"
"Oh, hang it all!" cried Jim excitedly; "can't you hear what the fellows are saying? They look at me as black as thunder!"
"Let 'em," rejoined the Angel serenely; "that won't hurt you."