the teeth themselves, and growing more and more wroth at having
been neglected. He had worked as hard as any one, but he was not taken
into the drawing-room by young squires, and petted and made much of.

Neither of the Misses Lambent came and took his arm, for they were
holding aloof altogether, and pretending to be deeply interested in the
prizes won by Feelier Potts and Ann Straggalls. Taken altogether, Mr
Chute was fast getting up to the point when people's indignation boils
over. He was hungry, thirsty, tired, and suffering besides from a
sudden attack of longing such as he had never felt before. He wanted to
be beside Hazel Thorne, to talk to her, though had he been by her side
not a word would have come. He wanted to look at her, and hear her
talk. He wanted to breathe the same air that she was breathing, and to
see her every act and look, and she had been carried off by young Mr
George Canninge, while he, Samuel Chute, who was spoken of as such a
clever master, and had been so strongly recommended, was left out in the
cold.

Mr Samuel Chute felt in that disposition of mind which comes over most
young men some time in their vealy stage, when the whole world is looked
upon as going dead against them, because they cannot possess some one
particular object; when they rapidly run over the various courses that
seem alone open to them, and which embrace enlisting, going to sea, to
the dogs, or plunging into a river or canal--at a time when a man is
handy with a boat-hook to fish them out.

Mr Chute, then, was not happy, and although he had been asked to go up
to the house to partake of some refreshment he would not go, but stalked
off into the shrubbery, and gnashed his teeth for a whole minute amongst
the rhododendrons, after which he went into a deeper shade where it was
all laurels, and as there was no one looking, gave such a stamp upon the
ground as hurt his foot in his new boot.

It was in vain that the band, invigorated by Mr William Forth Burge's
beer, was playing its happiest air, and the big drum had run wild, the
trombone following suit to such an extent that it was cutting and
slashing about in a way that was dangerous to the boys, while the
leading comet was leading indeed--half a bar ahead. It was in vain that
sweet music sought to woo Mr Chute back to the lawn; for a whole five
minutes he would not stir, preferring to suffer in solitude.

But Mr Samuel Chute was after all human, and in spite o