led to the top of the room, where Mr. Carey was standing at his
desk. He was rather thin and tall, with a very grave face, which made
Arthur feel rather awed; but it was not a cross face.

Presently he looked up, and saw Arthur standing at the door. He had
already been prepared for his appearance by a note from Mrs. Estcourt; so
he knew at once who he was.

"So you have come, Vivyan," he said. "Step up here, my boy."

Arthur advanced to the desk with rather a trembling step, and then had to
submit to a number of questions from Mr. Carey to test his knowledge;
after which he was put into one of the lower divisions of the school. It
was all new to him to-day; so the hours passed quickly away, and Arthur
was quite ready again for afternoon school when the time came.

So the days went on--one very like the other--and things were seeming less
strange as Arthur was getting to know the boys better, and to feel more at
home with them.

There was one boy in Mr. Carey's school who seemed different from all the
rest. His name was Edgar North, and he was about Arthur's own age. Some of
the boys said he was delicate, and others told Arthur that he was a muff.
Whatever it was, he seemed to stay outside the rest. He was very often in
disgrace; not for lessons badly done, although it might have been so, but
Mr. Carey was very indulgent to him, on account of his weakness, but for
rules broken through, for quarrels with the other boys, or disrespect to
the teachers. He did not seem happy; there was generally a cloud on his
brow, and a weariness and discontent in his manner. Arthur sometimes
wondered why. Might it be on account of his delicacy and his cough, that
very often he was obliged to stay at home, when the others joined in some
country expedition, and that sometimes, when the game was at its height of
interest, his quick, short breathing obliged him to leave off and sit down
away from the rest? It would be very trying, certainly; Arthur was quite
sure of that. He thought a good deal about Edgar North, and he could see
that the other boys did not like him; to tell the truth, Arthur did not
himself, but he was very sorry for him when he saw him sometimes all
alone, when the others were at play. One fine, sunny half-holiday, when
school had been closed for the day, and both boarders and day-scholars
were deep in the interest of cricket, Arthur had lingered behind the
others to put his books together in readiness for going home, an