“Why, young un?”
“Because you're the honestest boy in Rugby, and that ain't honest.”
“I don't see that.”
“What were you sent to Rugby for?”
“Well, I don't know exactly—nobody ever told me. I suppose because all boys are sent to a public school in England.”
“But what do you think yourself? What do you want to do here, and to carry away?”
Tom thought a minute. “I want to be A1 at cricket and football, and all the other games, and to make my hands keep my head against any fellow, lout or gentleman. I want to get into the sixth before I leave, and to please the Doctor; and I want to carry away just as much Latin and Greek as will take me through Oxford respectably. There, now, young un; I never thought of it before, but that's pretty much about my figure. Ain't it all on the square? What have you got to say to that?”
“Why, that you are pretty sure to do all that you want, then.”
“Well, I hope so. But you've forgot one thing—what I want to leave behind me. I want to leave behind me,” said Tom, speaking slow, and looking much moved, “the name of a fellow who never bullied a little boy, or turned his back on a big one.”
Arthur pressed his hand, and after a moment's silence went on, “You say, Tom, you want to please the Doctor. Now, do you want to please him by what he thinks you do, or by what you really do?”