“No, thanks, Pledge,” said the boy, who, without having any particular horror of having his lessons done for him, did not like just now, when he was conscious of having revolted against his senior, to accept favours from him.
“No? It’s true, then, Georgie is joining the elect and going to take holy orders?”
“No, I’m not,” said Georgie.
“Then Georgie is trying to be funny and not succeeding,” said the monitor, drily, returning to his own books.
Another silent quarter of an hour passed, and then the first bed bell rang.
“Good-night,” said Heathcote, gathering together his books.
“Good-night, dear boy!” said Pledge, with the red spots coming out on his cheeks; “come down with me to the ‘Tub’ in the morning.”
“I’m going down with another fellow,” said Georgie, feeling his heart bumping in his chest.
“Oh!” said the monitor, indifferently; “with a very dear friend?—the saintly Dick, for instance?”
“Yes,” said Heathcote, and left the room.