Riddell was not fool enough to imagine that his promise to old Wyndham was now discharged by that one evening’s talk. He knew the boy well enough to be sure that the task was only just begun. And his thankfulness at having made a beginning was tempered with many anxieties for the future. And he might well be anxious!
For a day or two Wyndham was an altered boy. He surprised his masters by his attention in class, and his schoolfellows—all except Riddell—by the steadiness of his behaviour. He avoided his former companions, and devoted himself with enthusiasm to his new duties as librarian, to which the doctor, at Riddell’s suggestion, had appointed him.
This alteration, approved of as it was in many quarters, was by no means appreciated by two boys at Willoughby. It was not that they cared twopence about the society of their young Limpet, or that they had any moral objection to good behaviour and steady work. What irritated Gilks and Silk over the business was that they saw in it the hand of an enemy, and felt that the present change in their protégé was due to Riddell’s influence in opposition to their own. The two monitors felt hurt at this; it was like a direct snub aimed at them, and, considering the quarter from which it came, they did not like it at all.
“This sort of thing won’t do,” said Gilks to his friend one day, shortly after Riddell’s talk with Wyndham. “The young ’un’s cut our acquaintance.”
“Hope we shall recover in time,” said Silk, sneering. “Yes; he’s gone decidedly ‘pi.’ the last week.”
“It’s all that reverend prig’s doing!” growled Gilks. “I mean to spoil his little game for him, though,” added he. “How’ll you do it?” asked Silk. “That’s just it! I wish I knew,” said Gilks.
“Oh! leave it to me, I’ll get at him somehow. I don’t suppose he’s too far gone yet.”
Accordingly Silk took an early opportunity of meeting his young friend.
“Ah! Wyndham,” said he, casually; “don’t see much of you now.”
“No,” said Wyndham, shortly; “I’m busy with the library.”