Later in the evening Greenfield and Wraysford sat together in the study of the former.
“Well, I see the Nightingale is vacant at last. Of course you are going in, old man?” said Wraysford.
“Yes, I suppose so; and you?” asked the other.
“Oh, yes. I’ll have a shot, and do my best.”
“I don’t mean to let you have it, though,” said Greenfield, “for the money would be valuable to me if I ever go up to Oxford.”
“Just the reason I want to get it,” said Wraysford, laughing. “By the way, when is your young brother coming?”
“This week, I expect.”
“I wonder if he’ll fag for me?” asked Wraysford, mindful of his destitute condition.
Greenfield laughed. “You’d better ask the captain about that. I can’t answer for him. But I must be off now. Good-night.”
And an hour after that Saint Dominic’s was as still and silent as, during the day, it had been bustling and noisy.