and ready
at all times to do his best to master his lessons. It was just the
difference between the careless neglect and misunderstanding that had
been his lot before, and the keen interest in all that concerned him
that was shown in every word and act of his new ruler. A little
kindness goes a long way with many an awkward, nervous boy, and Mr
Ebden had proved this.

"Make a friend of him," he would say cheerily. "Forget sometimes that
you are the master and he the boy. Coax him into trying by taking an
interest in all he does, and you can make a convert anywhere."

He was right, as has been proved over and over again, for nowadays there
is scarcely a school where the masters do not join heart and soul with
the boys in their games, ay, and feel themselves the happier and the
younger for it too?

Thus did Mr Ebden conquer the lads sent to him as a last resource.

Before a week had passed, Phil had become quite popular in the school,
and his love of athletics helped him not a little. To these a fair
proportion of the day was allotted, and as the school enclosure opened
into a large and well-kept garden, which was the common property of the
row of houses in which Mr Ebden's stood, there was plenty of
opportunity for cricket. In the centre was a smooth stretch of lawn,
with a carefully-laid pitch, and here Ebden's did battle with sundry
neighbouring teams.

But it is not to be supposed that Phil and his comrades were always out
of mischief. They were a high-spirited lot, and ever eager for
adventure. Indeed, our hero had only been a year at his new home when
he was once more in the deepest trouble. It happened in this way. The
Highgate Wanderers had taken their departure in high dudgeon at the easy
victory that Ebden's had scored over them, and Phil and his friends lay
on the grass, full length, beneath the shade of a pleasant oak-tree.
They were lolling idly and merely waiting for the hour to strike to go
in and prepare for tea. Suddenly one of the number, a lad named Fat
Bowen, pointed towards the farther end of the garden and exclaimed in a
high-pitched voice, "Look, you chaps, there's old Bumble inspecting his
statues again!"

All looked in the direction indicated, to see a stout old gentleman
waddling slowly round an artificial lake, and halting at every other
step to inspect and admire two statues which stood on pedestals placed
in the centre of the water.

"Good Old Bumble!" cried Phil, with a la