human
Junius's letter burn holes in his pocket, not knowing what to think of it, or what to do with it. For him to take Dick into his confidence was, however, a mere matter of time, for Heathcote's nature was not one which could hold a secret for many days together, and his loyalty to his
gpt
It's rum, said the latter, after having read the mysterious document twice through.
human
I don't like it, Georgie.
gpt
The thing is, I can't imagine who wrote it. You didn't, did you?
human
Rather not. I don't see the good of hole-in-the-corner ways of doing things like that.
gpt
Do you think Cresswell wrote it? He's about the only senior that knows me, except Pledge.
human
I don't fancy he did; it's not his style,
gpt
He might know. I wonder, Dick, if you'd mind trying to find out? It maybe a trick, you know, after all.
human
Don't look like it, said Dick, glancing again at the letter.
gpt
It's too like what everybody says about _him_.
human
That's the worst of it. He's hardly said a word to me since I've been his fag, and certainly nothing bad; and he writes my Latin verses for me, too. I fancy fellows are down on him too much.
gpt
Well, said Dick,
human
I'll try and pump Cresswell; but I _wish_ to goodness, Georgie, you weren't that beast's fag.