it about his
eye--which I believe you've pretty nicely marked for him."

"Do you think he'll tell?" I whispered to Tom as we ascended the steps
and he turned the handle of the door leading into the house.

"More than likely, if the Doctor pitches on to him! He will spin a fine
story about your having attacked him, too, to excuse himself; for he's a
liar as well as a cur and a bully. But, come on, Martin, look sharp!
There's the second gong, and if we're not at table in our seats before
it stops, it'll be a case of pickles!"

With these words, Tom dashed into the passage with me after him; and,
after racing up a bare, carpetless flight of stairs, I found myself in a
wide large room, which, the evening having closed in, was lighted up
only by a single gas-burner. This made its bareness all the more
apparent; for, with the exception of having a long table stretching from
end to end--now covered with a semi-brownish white table-cloth, and cups
and saucers and plates, not forgetting a monstrous big tin teapot like a
Chinese junk, in the centre, and a couple of narrow deal forms without
backs placed on either side for seats--the apartment had no other
furniture, a broad shelf attached to the wall opposite the fireplace
serving as a buffet, and an armchair at the head of the festal board,
for the presiding master, completing its equipment.

Tom had whispered to me as we went up-stairs that either "Smiley" or
"The Cobbler" would officiate at the tea-table, those two worthies
taking that duty in turn; but this evening, strange to say, whether in
honour of my arrival or on account of some other weighty motive, the
seat of honour at the end of the table was filled by the portly form of
the head of the establishment.

"By Jove!" ejaculated Tom, sliding into a vacant place along the form
nearest the door, and motioning to me to follow his example,
"something's up, or he wouldn't be here!"

Tom's supposition proved correct.

Something was "up" with a vengeance--at least as far as I was concerned.

CHAPTER FOUR.

SCHOOL EXPERIENCES.

As two or three others, late like ourselves, were scrambling into their
places when Tom and myself took our seats, while the old woman who had
opened the door for me was bustling about the table, filling a series of
tin mugs from the Chinese junk teapot and passing them along towards the
outstretched hands that eagerly clutched at them _en route_ downwards
from the head of the board, I