"
"I don't!" said Jack, hotly.
"I wonder," said Phil, dryly, "what is the great attraction which a Sixth
Form fellow sees in a fag? Above all, a fag of the name of Bourne?"
"Fact is, I don't see it myself," said Jack, shortly. "Better ask him."
"No, I don't think I shall. All the same, I would not dog Acton's
footsteps quite so much."
"He's a monitor."
"Who'll make you useful. Take my word for it."
"We'll see."
"Oh! Certainly we shall."
Jack was thoroughly unhinged by his brother's dry bantering tone, and
said hotly--
"I cannot understand, Phil, why he didn't get his cap. He deserved it."
"There's no need for you to understand it, young 'un."
"My opinion is----"
"Not worth the breath you're going to waste."
"It's considered a shame pretty generally."
"I've heard so; but, still, that does not alter matters. However, I did
not want to talk politics with you, Jack. Don't put your innocent little
toes into any scrape--that is all I wanted to tell you. Here is half a
crown for you to buy butterscotch, and while you're sucking it think over
what I've said. What! Little boys given up toffee? Then I'd better say
good night, Jack." Jack went out pretty sore.
About a week or so after this, Acton and young Bourne sped down to the
old Lodestone Farm, and as they pedalled in at the gate young Hill, the
farmer's son, said to Acton--
"The man's been here since twelve, sir."
"That's all right," said Acton. "Has he got the stable ready?"
"He's been putting it to rights the last hour.
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