cted back forthwith to the schoolroom,
accompanied by Miss Henniker and Mr Ladislaw.

"Hawkesbury," said the latter, addressing the injured boy, "I have
desired Smith to beg your pardon here and now for his conduct to you.
Smith, do as you have been told."

Smith remained silent, and I who watched him could see that his mind was
made up.

"Do you hear Mr Ladislaw, Smith?" demanded the Henniker; "do as you are
bid, at once."

"Please, sir," began Hawkesbury, with his pleasant smile.

"Silence, Hawkesbury," said the Henniker. "Now, Smith."

But she might have been addressing a log of wood.

"Do you hear what I say to you?" once more she exclaimed.

Smith only glared at her with his big eyes, and resolutely held his
tongue.

"Then," said Mr Ladislaw, "Smith must be publicly punished."

Smith was punished publicly; and a more repulsive spectacle I never wish
to witness. A public punishment at Stonebridge House meant a flogging
administered to one helpless boy by the whole body of his schoolfellows,
two of whom firmly held the victim, while each of the others in turn
flogged him. In the case of an unpopular boy like Smith, this
punishment was specially severe, and I turned actually sick as each of
the cowardly louts stepped up and vented their baffled wrath upon him.
Hawkesbury, of course, only made the slightest pretence of touching him;
but this of all his punishment seemed to be the part Smith could bear
least. At last, when it was all over, the bruised boy slunk back to his
desk, and class proceeded.

That night, as I knelt beside my poor chum's bed, he said, "We've paid
pretty dear for our run on the heath, Fred."

"_You_ have, old man," I replied.

Smith lay still for some time musing, then he said, "Whatever do they
mean by forgiving enemies, Fred?"

Smith didn't often get on these topics, and I was a little nervous as I
replied, "What it says, I suppose."

"Does it mean fellows like Hawkesbury?"

"I should say so," said I, almost doubtful, from the way in which he
spoke, whether after all I might not be mistaken.

"Queer," was all he replied, musingly.

I tried hard to change the subject.

"Are you awfully sore, Jack?" I said. "Have one of my pillows."

"Oh no, thanks. But I say, Fred, don't you think it's queer?"

"What, about forgiving your enemies? Well, yes it is, rather. But, I
say, it's time I cut back. Good-night, old man."

And I crept back to bed, and lay awake half the