he had had with his house-master on that awful concluding day last term,
and his chin still thrust out valiantly. Gus's square chin meant an
undeviating attention to serious study, and Gus, armed _cap-à-pie_,
against all his old friends.

For Todd had taken his precautions. His watch--a gold one, "jewelled in
numberless holes," as its owner pathetically remarked--had been left with
the family jeweller for three bright golden sovereigns, an eight-and-six
brass turnip, which went jolly well, although its tick was a trifle
vigorous under Gus's pillow, and an agreement. This document, drawn up by
himself, Gus regarded as a very masterpiece of business-like acumen. Gus
could have his gold watch back again within the year by paying three
sovereigns, and buying the brass turnip for half a sovereign, the profit
accruing on this latter transaction being, as Gus explained proudly, the
jeweller's percentage on the loan. The family jeweller had informed Gus
casually that he couldn't keep a wife and growing family on such
percentages, but to oblige, etc.

Todd received Mr. James Cotton blandly and politely, and Jim, in his
heavy way, mistook this airiness for non-paying symptoms on Gus's part.

"Had a good time, old cock, during the holidays?"

"Beastly," said Gus.

"Governor rusty?"

"No end. Been making the will again, and leaving me out."

"Perry _fiasco_, eh?"