of a frightened face a long way
beneath him. "Don't be in such a funk, Harry," he said good-humouredly.
"It will all come right in the end! The Doctor's awfully hard
sometimes, but he's always just--eh, Crawley?"

"He canes you first, and he's just afterwards," said Crawley grimly.

The little boy shivered, and, when he tried to speak, his teeth
chattered. "Does--does he cane very hard?"

"Oh, dear, yes," said Crawley mischievously; "you don't forget it for
some days, I can tell you! Just look at little Parker," he went on,
pointing to the child's terrified face: "wouldn't any unprejudiced
person think he had done it himself?"

"Oh, no, no," cried the boy angrily, "how dare you say so? How could I?
What would I want with a boat?"

"Reserve your defence for the Doctor, sir," said Crawley impressively.

Something in the boy's piteous eagerness had attracted Haggart's
attention, and he turned and looked at him sharply. His eyes were wide
open and had a terrified look, and his thin lips were trembling, his
small childish hand was fidgeting with the buttons of his coat.

First, a breath of suspicion came to Haggart, and a great rush of pity
and contempt; then, as the child's eyes seemed to rise unwillingly to
his, the secret leaped from one heart to the other, and he knew. His
lips curled disdainfully, and he jumped off the table, hustling his
little band of followers out of the way.

"There's the Doctor," he said; "let me pass."

All the boys stood up as the master majestically moved over to the
fireplace and kicked the logs into a blaze. Then he faced round
suddenly, and spoke in his peculiarly clear, decisive tones. "There has
been an act of great disobedience perpetrated here during the last
twenty-four hours," he said. "Crawley overheard me speaking on the
subject to Mr Barclay, and has probably told you what it is. I had, as
you all know, given strict orders that the boat was not to be taken on
the river by any of the boys, and this morning it was found outside the
boathouse tied to a stake. There is no doubt that one of my boys did
this, and the only reparation he can make is to own his fault at once,
and take the punishment!"

There was dead silence.

One heart in the room was beating like a sledge-hammer against the Eton
jacket that enclosed it, but no one spoke. Only Haggart turned his
head, and looked again at the fourth-form boys, and as if they were
under a spell, the grey eyes, full of