opled entirely by heroes and scoundrels, and with all the
scoundrels physically contemptible; but that he would have done less
brilliantly in the mixed-up old world that we have got at present.

Suddenly, as from a clear sky, came a bolt of common-sense to Tim, and
he realized he had been a fond and foolish jay. And that was why, when
he had finished prep that evening, he exchanged a copy, bound in calf,
of _Victor the Valiant_ for two oranges and a catapult.

Of course, the reaction set in. Tim was sent up to the station to bring
home a new bicycle for the head master, and he was especially warned
_not_ to ride it--just to walk it. Of course he tried to ride it down
Castle Hill, and collided violently with a milk cart. He returned with
what had been a new machine. So the Head made him write out one hundred
times:

And since he cannot spend or use aright
The little time here given in his trust;
But wasteth it in weary underlight
Of foolish toil and trouble, strife and lust,
He naturally clamours to inherit
The Everlasting Future that his merit
May have full scope--as surely is most just.

And Tim muttered, "All right, keep your hair on, Ben!"

"H'm;" said the Head, overhearing Tim. "Write it out _two_ hundred times
for your insolent conduct."

That was the start of his demoralisation. According to the laws of the
Medes and Persians, and the laws of Victor the Valiant, disaster and
dishonour would be the end of _this_! It was not at all the way Victor
would have behaved. As a matter of fact on one occasion when a master
had been idiotic enough to give Victor a hundred lines, the valiant one
had replied: "Pardon me, sir, but if I may be so presumptuous I think I
can call your attention to the fact that you--unintentionally, of
course--are treating me too severely." And the master had at once seen
the error of his ways and relieved Victor of the imposition.

Tim failed to get the verse written out in the stipulated time and the
imposition was trebled. Also he gathered up another hundred lines for
"failure to attend prayers" and this placed him in a state of hopeless
bankruptcy.

When he wrote home to his mother. Here is what he said:

"DEAREST MOTHER:

"I got two hundred lines for breaking the Head's bicycle yesterday.
Give my love to Dad. I got another hundred lines to-day for not
being present at prayers. But don't you worry--I am not really
bad--God has