ill the hour strikes.

[12] #Chivalrous#: here, gallant, polite.

Arthur proceeds to read out the passage in Greek before construing it,
as the custom is. Tom, who isn't paying much attention, is suddenly
caught by the falter in his voice as he reads the two lines:--

[Greek: "alla su ton g' epeessi paraiphamenos katerukes,
se t' aganophrosune kai sois aganois epeessin."][13]

He looks up at Arthur. "Why, bless us," thinks he, "what can be the
matter with the young un? He's never going to get floored! He's sure
to have learnt to the end!" Next moment he is reassured by the
spirited tone in which Arthur begins construing, and betakes himself
to drawing dogs' heads in his note-book, while the master, evidently
enjoying the change, turns his back on the middle bench, and stands
before Arthur, beating a sort of time with his hand and foot, and
saying: "Yes, yes," "Very well," as Arthur goes on.

[13] "Thou didst take my part with kindly admonitions,
and restrain their tongues with soft address and gentle
words."--_Bryant's translation._

But as he nears the fatal two lines, Tom catches that falter, and
again looks up. He sees that there is something the matter: Arthur can
hardly get on at all. What can it be?

Suddenly at this point Arthur breaks down altogether, and fairly
bursts out crying, and dashes the cuff of his jacket across his eyes,
blushing up to the roots of his hair, and feeling as if he should like
to go down suddenly through the floor. The whole form are taken aback;
most of them stare stupidly at him, while those who are gifted with
presence of mind find their places, and look steadily at their books,
in hopes of not catching the master's eye, and getting called up in
Arthur's place.

The master looked puzzled for a moment, and then seeing, as the fact
is, that the boy is really affected to tears by the most touching
thing in Homer, perhaps in all profane[14] poetry put together, steps
up to him and lays his hand kindly on his shoulder, saying: "Never
mind, my little man, you've construed very well. Stop a minute,
there's no hurry."

[14] #Profane#: here, not sacred.

Now, as luck would have it, there sat next above Tom on that day, in
the middle bench of the form, a big boy, by name Williams, generally
supposed to be the cock of the shell, therefore of all the schools
below the fifths. The small boys, who are great speculators on the
prowess of their elders, used to hold