Dick, his Euclid difficulty over, went home; and in giving an account to his friends of various matters, mentioned this episode of the new boots and the nonpayment—not in ill-nature, but in his propensity to gossip. Trace was contemptuous over it.
"I'll lay a guinea the fellow has not a shilling in the world!"
"But look here!" cried Dick. "I don't really think it was he that told about the smoke. He says he didn't: he's as earnest as he can be."
"That's all your opinion's good for," returned Trace. And the rest gave a slighting laugh at Dick. Dick took his revenge in a most impudent whistle.
The boys were subsequently in the hall at their evening lessons. Lamb, who had contrived to do his quickly, was stealing out to pass the intervening half-hour before prayer-time in his bedroom, which was against rules. In passing the mathematical room, he encountered Mr. Long. Glancing around to see that no one else was within hearing, Mr. Long accosted him in a semi-undertone.
"By the way, Lamb—there was no mistake I suppose in regard to that matter you mentioned to me? The seniors were smoking?"
"No mistake at all, sir. Five or six cigars were alight, and the room was full of smoke."
"They are making a terrible fuss over it—just as though it were not true."
"It was quite true, sir. My only motive in reporting it to you was their own good: I did not want to get them into a row. It is a pernicious habit."
"Ah," returned Mr. Long, peering rather dubiously through his spectacles on his virtuous friend. For he really did not approve of sneaks as a whole, but there always seemed some excuse for listening to this one. What with his near sight, and what with his absent brain, buried in its calculations and sciences, Mr. Long was reproachfully self-conscious that he did not look out for peccadilloes as he ought. "That's all then, Lamb."