tated for life.

We got it on to the platform at last with a good run, but the
enthusiasm of the back row of scrummers, who apparently thought the
task could not be completed till they were off the floor and on the
platform, was so strong that the desk was pushed much too far, and
toppled over the further side of the platform.

This was too much. My suppressed giggling burst like a grenade into
uncontrolled laughter. Then I said: "I'm sorry, sir."

Sec.2

But this disorder is a strong dish, and we've talked about quite as
much as is good for us. So let us change the hour and visit another
class-room, where there are no rebellions, but nevertheless
arithmetic and trouble--and Ray and Doe and Pennybet. And here is a
dear little master in charge. It is Mr. Fillet, the housemaster of
Bramhall House, where, as you know, we were paying guests--a fat
little man with a bald pate, a soft red face, a pretty little
chestnut beard, and an ugly little stutter in his speech. Bless him,
the dear little man, we called him Carpet Slippers. This was because
one of his two chief attributes was to be always in carpet slippers.
The other attribute was to be always round a corner.

Fillet, or Carpet Slippers, disliked his young boarder, Rupert Ray.
The reason is soon told. One night, when I was out of my bed and
gambolling in pyjamas about the first story of his house, I looked
up the well of the staircase and saw the little shadow of someone
parading the landing above. Thinking it to be a boy, I called out in
a stage-whisper: "Is that old pig, Carpet Slippers, up there?" And a
dear little chestnut beard and a smile came over the balusters,
accompanied by a voice: "Yes, h-h-here he is. Wh-what do you want
with him?"

It was Fillet, in carpet slippers, and round a corner.

And then in his class-room, this day, I got a sum wrong. I deduced
that in a certain battle "point 64" of a soldier remained wounded on
the field, while "point 36" escaped with the retreating army unhurt.
This did not seem a satisfactory conclusion either to the sum or to
the soldier, and I was not surprised, on looking up the answer, to
find that I was wrong. There were two methods of detecting the
error: one was to work through the sum again, the other was to
submit it to Fillet for revision. The latter seemed the less irksome
scheme, and in a sinister moment--heavens! how pregnant with
consequences it was--I left my desk, approached Carpet Slippers, and
laid