e objects of envy
rather than commiseration, and one or two of their mates would gladly
have changed places with them on the spot.

'Wouldn't care if I was in fer it, 'stead o' you, Dick,' said Peterson.
'Mus' be an awful lark to have Hamlet layin' it on, an' you not feelin'
it all the time.'

'My oath I' said Jacker Mack feelingly.

'Good morning, boys.'

Joel Ham, B.A., had stolen in amongst them, and stood there in an odd
crow-like attitude, his mottled face screwed into an expression of
quizzical amiability, and his daily bottle sticking obtrusively from the
inside lining of his old coat. The lads scattered sheepishly.

'Peterson,' he said, blinking his pale lashes a dozen times in rapid
succession, 'the boy who thinks he can outwit his dear master is an
egotist, and egotism, Peterson, is the thing which keeps us from
profiting by the experiences of other fools.'

'I dunno what yer talkin' about,' answered Peter son, with heavy
resentment.

Mr. Ham blinked again for nearly half a minute.

'Of course not,' he said, 'of course not, my boy.' Then he turned to Dick
and Ted with quiet courtesy. 'Good morning, Richard. Good morning,
Edward.'

Ted, who was painfully conscious of the large ink-splashes on the
master's white trousers, kicked awkwardly at a buried stone, but Dick
replied cheerily enough.

The attitude of the master throughout that morning was quite inexplicable
to the scholars; he made no allusion whatever to the crimes of which Dick
and Ted had been guilty, and gave no hint that he harboured any
intentions that were not entirely generous and friendly. The two
culprits, working with quite astounding assiduity, were beset with
conflicting emotions. Dick, who had a vague sort of insight into the
master's character, was prepared for the worst, and yet not blind to the
possibility of a free pardon. Ted, after the first hour, was joyous and
over-confident.

Mr. Peterson called during the morning and conferred with Joel for a few
minutes. The gaping school knew what that meant, and awaited the out come
with the most anxious interest. Mr. Peterson, a six-foot Dane, an
engine-driver at the Stream, and Billy's father, was volunteering for
service in case Mr. Ham should need assistance in dealing with the two
culprits; but Joel sent him away, and the boys breathed freely again.
Their confidence in Dolf's 'rosum' did not leave them quite blind to the
advantages of an amicable settlement of their little di