The gravity even of Pembury broke down at this, and the present
conference of the Fifth ended without arriving at any nearer conclusion
on the question which was perplexing it.
Meanwhile, Oliver and Wraysford were in their study, talking over the
event of the day.
"I was certain how it would be, old boy," said Wraysford, genuinely
delighted. "I wonder what the Fifth will say now? Bah! it doesn't
become me to say too much, though, for I was as bad as any of them
myself."
"No, you weren't, old boy; you never really believed it. But I say,
Wray, I don't intend to take this exhibition. You must have it."
"I!" exclaimed Wraysford. "Not a bit of me. You won it."
"But I never meant to go in for it, and wouldn't have if it had not been
for the Fifth. After all, it's only twenty pounds. Do take it, old
man. I've got the Nightingale, you know."
"What does that matter? I wouldn't have this for anything. The fellows
tried to make me think _I_ was the real winner of the Nightingale, and I
was idiot enough half to believe it. But I think I've had a lesson."
"But, Wray--"
"Not a word, my dear fellow; I won't hear of it."
"Very well, then; I shall shy the money when I get it into the nearest
fish-pond."
"All serene," said Wraysford, laughing; "I hope the fish will relish
it."
At that moment there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," said Oliver.
The door opened, and, to the astonishment of the two boys, Loman
entered.
Was it peace, or war, or what? Loman's miserable face and strange
manner quickly answered the question.
"Oh, Greenfield," he said, "excuse me. I want to speak to you;" and
here he glanced at Wraysford, who rose to go.
"Stay where you are, Wray," said Oliver. "What is it, Loman?"
Loman, quite cowed, hardly knew how to go on.
"I was glad to hear you got the Waterston," he said. "I--I thought you
would."
What was the fellow at?
After a long pause, which seemed to drive Loman almost to despair, he
said, "You'll wonder what I have come here for. I know we've not been
friends. But--but, Greenfield, I'm in awful trouble."
"What is it?" again asked Oliver.
"Why, the fact is," said Loman, gaining courage, as he found neither
Oliver nor Wraysford disposed to resent his visit--"the fact is,
Greenfield, I'm in debt. I've been very foolish, you know, betting and
all that. I say, Greenfield, _could_ you possibly--would you lend me--
eight pounds? I don't know why I ask you, but unless I can pay the
money to-day, I shall--"
"What!" exclaimed Oliver, "eight pounds to pay your bets?"
"Oh, no, not all bets. I've been swindled too--by Cripps. You know
Cripps."
And here Loman, utterly miserable, threw himself down on a chair and
looked beseechingly at the two friends.
"I could pay you back in a month or so," he went on; "or at any rate
before Easter. Do lend it me, please, Greenfield. I don't know where
else to go and ask, and I shall get into such an awful row if I can't
pay. Will you?"
Oliver looked at Wraysford; Wraysford looked at Oliver; and then both
looked at Loman. The sight of the wretched boy there entreating money
of the very fellow who had least reason in all Saint Dominic's to like
him, was strange indeed.
"Wray," said Oliver, abruptly, after another pause, during which he had
evidently made up his mind, "have you any money about you?"
"I've three pounds," said Wraysford, taking out his purse.
Oliver went to his desk and took from it a five-pound note which was
there, his savings for the last year. This, with Wraysford's three
sovereigns, he handed without a word to Loman. Then, not waiting to
hear the thanks which the wretched boy tried to utter, he took
Wraysford's arm and walked out of the study.