hat Paul
made no outcry. He gave another round, bringing the ferule down with
great force. Blood began to ooze from the pores. The last blow spattered
the drops around the room. Cipher came to his senses. He stopped.

"Are you sorry, sir?"

"I don't know whether I am or not. I didn't mean any harm. I suppose I
ought not to have drawn it in school; but I didn't do it to make fun. I
drew you just as you are," said Paul,--his voice trembling a little in
spite of his efforts to control it.

The master could not deny that it was a perfect likeness. He was
surprised at Paul's cleverness at drawing, and for the first time in his
life saw that he cut a ridiculous figure wearing that long, loose,
swallow-tailed coat, with great, flaming brass buttons, and resolved
upon the spot that his next coat should be a frock, and that he would
get a longer pair of pants.

"You may take your seat, sir!" he said, puzzled to know whether to
punish Paul still more, and compel him to say that he was sorry, or
whether to accept the explanations, and apologize for whipping him so
severely.

Paul sat down. His hands ached terribly; but what troubled him most was
the thought that he had been whipped before the whole school. All the
girls had witnessed his humiliation. There was one among them,--Azalia
Adams,--who stood at the head of Paul's class, the best reader and
speller in school. She had ruby lips, and cheeks like roses; the golden
sunlight falling upon her chestnut hair crowned her with glory; deep,
thoughtful, and earnest was the liquid light of her hazel eyes; she was
as lovely and beautiful as the flower whose name she bore. Paul had
drawn her picture many times,--sometimes bending over her task,
sometimes as she sat, unmindful of the hum of voices around her, looking
far away into a dim and distant dream-land. He never wearied of tracing
the features of one so fair and good as she. Her laugh was as musical as
a mountain-brook; and in the church on Sunday, when he heard her voice
sweetly and melodiously mingling with the choir, he thought of the
angels,--of her as in heaven and he on earth.

"Run home, sonny, and tell your marm that you got a licking," said
Philip when school was out.

Paul's face became livid. He would have doubled his fist and given
Philip a blow in the face, but his palms were like puff-balls. There was
an ugly feeling inside, but just then a pair of bright hazel eyes,
almost swimming with tears, looked into h