satisfactory way the afternoon dragged along until the
dusk gathered and the lamps were lighted, and it became too dark to see
goal-posts or ball.

By the time play was stopped and the school reformed for the march home,
Mr. Bultitude felt that he was glad even to get back to labour as a
relief from such a form of enjoyment. It was perhaps the most miserable
afternoon he had ever spent in his whole easy-going life. In the course
of it he had passed from brightest hope to utter despair; and now
nothing remained to him but to convince the Doctor, which he felt quite
unequal to do, or to make his escape without money--which would
inevitably end in a recapture.

May no one who reads this ever be placed upon the horns of such a
dilemma!

9. _A Letter from Home_

"Here are a few of the unpleasantest words
That ever blotted paper....
A letter,
And every word in it a gaping wound."
_Merchant of Venice._

If it were not that it was so absolutely essential to the interest of
this story, I think I should almost prefer to draw a veil over the
sufferings of Mr. Bultitude during the rest of that unhappy week at
Crichton House; but it would only be false delicacy to do so.

Things went worse and worse with him. The real Dick in his most
objectionable moods could never have contrived to render himself one
quarter so disliked and suspected as his substitute was by the whole
school--masters and boys.

It was in a great measure his own fault, too; for to an ordinary boy the
life there would not have had any intolerable hardships, if it held out
no exceptional attractions. But he would not accommodate himself to
circumstances, and try, during his enforced stay, to get as much
instruction and enjoyment as possible out of his new life.

Perhaps, in his position, it would be too much to expect such a thing
and, at all events, it never even occurred to him to attempt it. He
consumed himself instead with inward raging and chafing at his hard lot,
and his utter powerlessness to break the spell which bound him.

Sometimes, indeed, he would resolve to bear it no longer, and would
start up impulsively to impart his misfortunes to some one in minor
authority--not the Doctor, he had given that up in resigned despair long
since. But as surely as ever he found himself coming to the point, the
words would stick fast in his throat, and he was only too t