Seabrooke went to dine with "the dons," caring not so much for the social pleasure as for the honor conferred upon him by the invitation; Mr. Merton taking, as had been arranged, his place in the schoolroom during evening study.
The tutor cast his eye around the line of heads and missed one.
"Where is Lewis Flagg?" he asked.
"I don't know, sir," answered one of the boys. "I saw him about ten minutes ago."
Scarcely had he spoken when the delinquent entered the room and hastened to his seat.
"Late, Lewis," said Mr. Merton, placing a tardy mark against his name.
"I did not hear the bell, sir," answered Lewis, telling his falsehood with coolness, although his manner was somewhat flurried and nervous.
Percy was running across the play-ground the next morning when he came full against Seabrooke, who was just rounding the corner of an evergreen hedge. He would have been thrown off his balance by the shock had not Seabrooke caught him; but the next instant he shook him off, while he regarded him with a look of the most scornful contempt.
"Hallo!" said Percy, not observing this at first, "that was a concussion between opposing forces. I beg your pardon. I should have been down, too, but for you"
"You're pretty well down, I should say," replied Seabrooke, sneeringly. "You're a nice fellow to call yourself a gentleman, are'n't you?"