orman! where is he? Dear Norman,
here is good news! Papa, Dr. Hoxton has been here, and he knows all
about it--and oh! Norman, he is very sorry for the injustice, and you
are dux again!"

Norman really trembled so much that he could neither speak nor stand,
but sat down on the window-seat, while a confusion of tongues asked
more.

Dr. Hoxton and Mr. Larkins had come to call--heard no one was at home
but Miss May--had, nevertheless, come in--and Margaret had heard
that Mr. Larkins, who had before intended to remove his son from
Stoneborough, had, in the course of the holidays, made discoveries from
him, which he could not feel justified in concealing from Dr. Hoxton.

The whole of the transactions with Ballhatchet, and Norman's part in
them, had been explained, as well as the true history of the affray in
Randall's Alley--how Norman had dispersed the boys, how they had again
collected, and, with the full concurrence of Harvey Anderson, renewed
the mischief, how the Andersons had refused to bear witness in his
favour, and how Ballhatchet's ill-will had kept back the evidence which
would have cleared him.

Little Larkins had told all, and his father had no scruple in repeating
it, and causing the investigation to be set on foot. Nay, he deemed that
Norman's influence had saved his son, and came, as anxious to thank
him, as Dr. Hoxton, warm-hearted, though injudicious, was to repair his
injustice. They were much surprised and struck by finding that Dr. May
had been aware of the truth the whole time, and had patiently put up
with the injustice, and the loss of the scholarship--a loss which Dr.
Hoxton would have given anything to repair, so as to have sent up a
scholar likely to do him so much credit; but it was now too late, and he
had only been able to tell Margaret how dismayed he was at finding out
that the boy to whom all the good order in his school was owing had been
so ill-used. Kind Dr. May's first feeling really seemed to be pity and
sympathy for his old friend, the head-master, in the shock of such a
discovery. Harry was vociferously telling his version of the story to
Ethel and Mary. Tom stood transfixed in attention. Meta, forgotten and
bewildered, was standing near Norman, whose colour rapidly varied,
and whose breath came short and quick as he listened. A quick half
interrogation passed Meta's lips, heard by no one else.

"It is only that it is all right," he answered, scarcely audibly; "they
have found o