“I am so awfully sorry to hear of your new trouble about money matters, and that you will have to leave Garden Vale. I wish I could come over to see you and help you. All the fellows here are awfully cut up about it, and lots of them want me to send you messages. I don’t know what I shall do without you this term, old man, you were always a brick to me. Be sure and write to me and tell me everything. As soon as I can get away for a day I’ll come and see you, and I’ll write as often as I can.
“Your affectionate,—
“T. Harker.
“P.S.—Wilkins, I expect, will be the new monitor in our house. He is sure now to get the scholarship Reg was certain of. I wish to goodness you were both back here.”
“He might just as well have left out that about the scholarship,” said Reginald; “it’s not very cheering news to hear of another fellow stepping into your place like that.”
“I suppose he thought we’d be curious to know,” said Horace.
“Precious curious!” growled Reginald.
“But who’s your letter from, Reg?” asked Mrs Cruden.
“Oh, just a line from Bland,” replied he, hastily putting it into his pocket; “he gives no news.”
If truth must be told, Blandford’s letter was not a very nice one, and Reginald felt it. He did not care to hear it read aloud in contrast with Harker’s warm-hearted letter. Blandford had written,—