Tom crouched behind the raised lid, quaking in every limb, conscious he ought to confess, but destitute of resolution to do so, and, in a perfect agony as the master went to his desk, took up the book, and carried it away, so unconscious, that Larkins, a great wag, only waited till his back was turned, to exclaim, "Ha! old fellow, you don't know what you've got there!" "Hallo! May junior, will you never leave off staring?
you won't see a bit farther for it," said Edward Anderson, shaking him by the ear; "come to your senses, and know your friends." "He'll open it!" gasped Tom.
"So he will, but I'd bet ninety to one, it is not at that page, or if he does, it won't tell tales, unless, indeed, he happened to see you standing there, crouching and shaking.

That's the right way to bring him upon you." "But suppose he opens it, and knows who was in school ?" "What then?
D'ye think we can't stand by each other, and keep our own counsel ?" "But the blotting-paper--suppose he knows that!" There was a laugh all round at this, "as if Harrison knew everyone's blotting-paper!" "Yes, but Harry used to write his name all over his--see--and draw Union Jacks on it." "If he did, the date is not there.

Do you think the ink is going to say March 2nd?
Why should not July have done it last half ?" "July would have told if he had," said Larkins.

"That's no go." "Ay! That's the way--the Mays are all like girls--can't keep a secret--not one of them.

There, I've done more for you than ever one of them would have done--own it--and he strode up to Tom, and grasped his wrists, to force the confession from him." "But--but he'll ask when he finds it out--" "Let him.