didn't. That's why I left."

"At any rate, I have one friend among the masters--Grover."

"Oh, poor Grover. He is the only master who can get on at all, and he
does so by effacing himself on every possible occasion, and agreeing
with everybody."

"Not a very noble character to hear of one's friend," said Railsford,
who was beginning to get tired of this jeremiad.

"I don't blame him; he can stand more than you or I can."

"That, I suppose, is meant for a compliment to me?" said Railsford,
laughing. "You think, then, I would be wise to back out before it is
too late?"

"I don't say that, only--"

"Only you pity me. Thanks, very much."

That evening Railsford sent a line to Grover:--

"Tell me in two words why Moss left Grandcourt."

A telegram came next morning, "Incompatibility of temper."

Whereat the new master chuckled, and dismissed the lugubrious ex-master
and his friendly warnings from his mind. But although the gloomy
prognostications of his Job's comforters failed in the least to depress
his spirits, one very small cloud hovered occasionally on the horizon.
This was the attitude of his worthy and respected prospective pupil and
brother-in-law, Arthur Herapath. That young gentleman, who had been
prudently kept in the dark while term lasted, was, as may be imagined,
considerably astounded on arriving home to be met with the news that the
new master of the Shell at Grandcourt was to be Mark Railsford.

"What a lark!" he exclaimed.

Now, genial as the remark was, the tone in which it was uttered was not
calculated to inspire confidence in the breasts of those to whom it was
addressed. There was more of enjoyment in it than respect. Yet boys
will be boys, and who can gauge the depths of a nature below the smiles
that ripple on the surface?

It was little incidents like these which occasionally suggested to
Railsford, far more forcibly than the lugubrious warnings of his
officious friends, that the task before him at Grandcourt would tax his
powers considerably. But, on the whole, he rejoiced that all would not
be plain-sailing at first, and that there was no chance of his relapsing
immediately into the condition of a humdrum pedagogue.

The Christmas holidays slipped away only too fast for Arthur and for
Daisy. Mark, much as he felt the approaching separation from his
betrothed, could not suppress a slight feeling of exultation as the day
drew near when he was to "go, see, and conquer" at