The lighter the heart the better the work. Roger performed wonders in the Christmas examinations, and "did Rooke's proud" by taking as many prizes as Harwood did. Indeed, one of his scalps was the English Literature prize—a real jar for Harwood, whose supremacy in that subject had never been previously challenged.
"Owe that entirely to the practice I got writing for the Rag, Dick," Roger chuckled. "Topping prize, too—well-bound set of Shakespeare. Old Wykeham didn't half like his 'pet lamb' losing it. He looked positively sour as Lady Maingay handed me the goods!"
"Imagination, old boy!" laughed Dick. "All the same, I'm overjoyed you pulled it off so finely. Rooke's House wears a feathered cap to-day. What'll you say when Harwood comes across to congratulate you?"
"Nothing! Shan't have the chance. He won't come."
Nor did he. It was breaking-up time, and Luke Harwood probably found enough to do in Holbeck's House without going out of his way to congratulate his rival. Moreover, he had other excuses for jealousy, inasmuch as the whole school seemed to be laughing over Roger's delicious burlesque of the burglary, with its cleverly-rhymed raillery of the bewildered local police.
Indisputably the new magazine outshone the old on this occasion. Mr. Rooke and Mr. Holbeck, masters of rival houses, were seen chuckling over it together, and no success on the playing-fields of Foxenby could have thrilled the Captain so much. It sent him off for the Christmas holidays with a brighter feeling than he had known for weeks, and he went straight to his aunt on his arrival home, confident that in her he would find the solution of all his money troubles.
Aunt Bella was a tall, athletic, merry-featured woman—a tennis champion and a golf-prize winner still, but very much prouder of "her boy's" feats than she was of her own. Usually her eyes twinkled with the joy of living, but to-day Dick was startled and embarrassed to see her cheeks wet with tears.
"Cry-baby, am I not, dear lad?" she said. "I quite meant to be as bright as a button when you arrived, but evidently I am not of the stuff from which heroines are made. I'm an elderly woman in distress, and I can't hide it!"
"Oh, I say, Auntie, who's been making you wretched? Show me the blighter and I'll go for him and punch his head, though he be as big as a house-side."
Half-laughing and half-crying, Aunt Bella pinched Dick's ear.