"I know I must do something respectable when first I go to Oxford, if
I don't wish to be known as the man whose brother was plucked," said
Norman.

"Yes," said Ethel; "if papa will but let you try for the Randall
scholarship next year, but he says it is not good to go to Oxford so
young."

"And I believe I had better not be there with Richard," added Norman.
"I don't like coming into contrast with him, and I don't think he can
like it, poor fellow, and it isn't his fault. I had rather stay
another year here, get one of the open scholarships, and leave the
Stoneborough ones for those who can do no better."

In justice to Norman, we must observe that this was by no means said
as a boast. He would scarcely have thus spoken to any one but
Etheldred, to whom, as well as to himself, it seemed mere matter-of-
fact. The others had in the meantime halted at the top of the hill,
and were looking back at the town--the great old Minster, raising its
twin towers and long roof, close to the river, where rich green
meadows spread over the valley, and the town rising irregularly on
the slope above, plentifully interspersed with trees and gardens, and
one green space on the banks of the river, speckled over with a flock
of little black dots in rapid motion.

"Here you are!" exclaimed Flora. "I told them it was of no use to
wait when you and Norman had begun a dissertation."

"Now, Mr. Ernescliffe, I should like you to say," cried Ethel, "which