“The fact is—I was going to tell you, Cripps, I was really; there’s been something wrong about this exam. One of the fellows stole one of the papers, and so got the scholarship unfairly.”
“And I can make a pretty good guess,” said Mr Cripps, with a grin, “which of the fellows that gentleman was.”
“No, it wasn’t me, Cripps, really,” said Loman, pale and quite humble in the presence of his creditor; “it was one of the others—Greenfield in the Fifth; the fellow, you know, who struck you on Saturday.”
“What, him?” exclaimed Cripps, astonished for once in a way. “That bloke? Why, he looked a honest sort of chap, he did, though I do owe him one.”
“Oh,” said Loman, following up this temporary advantage, “he’s a regular swindler, is Greenfield. He stole the paper, you know, and so won the scholarship, of course. I was certain of it, if it hadn’t been for that. I mean to have a row made about it, and there’s certain to be another exam, so that I’m sure of the money if you’ll only wait.”
“And how long do you want me to wait, I’d like to know?” said Cripps.
“Oh, till after Christmas, please, at any rate. It’ll be all right then, I’ll answer for that.”
“You’ll answer for a lot of things, it strikes me, young gentleman,” said Cripps, “before you’ve done.”
There were signs of relenting in this speech which the boy was quick to take advantage of.
“Do wait till then!” he said, beseechingly.