e upon one of his knuckles, which had partially healed up and
been knocked again and again, all netted and veined in among
right, acute and obtuse angles, sides, bases, perpendiculars,
slanting-diculars, producings, joinings of AB and CD, and the rest of
it--when one of the doors opened, the servant went up to the desk of the
usher in charge, and the hum in the big schoolroom ceased as the usher
tapped the desk before him.

"Braydon."

"Yes, sir."

"The doctor wishes to see you in the study."

Nic had started up, and now the wrinkles in his brow grew deeper, and
then disappeared as if by magic, for he had caught sight of Green
grinning at him with satisfaction in every curve of fat,
self-satisfied-looking countenance; and putting on an air of calm
indifference he moved toward the door.

As it happened he had to pass just in front of Green's desk, and the lad
raised himself a little, put out a leg to cause a stumble, and
whispered:

"Birch. Keep the door shut, and don't--"

Green was going to say "howl," but he illustrated his meaning by
uttering a cry wonderfully like that sent forth by a cat under similar
circumstances.

"What's that?" cried the usher.

"I trod on Green's foot by accident, sir," said Nic.

"Green should not leave his feet lying about all over the floor," said
the usher, trying to be facetious, and then looking satisfied, for his
joke was received with a roar, which was increased at the sight of
Green's ghastly smile as Nic went out of the schoolroom.

"That's birch for him," he muttered, as he passed through the baize
door, which shut out the noise of the school from the rest of the house;
and the boy drew a deep breath as he crossed the hall toward the study,
connected in his mind with scoldings and reproofs of the severest kind.
"What have I been doing now?" thought Nic, as he laid hold of the handle
after knocking and hearing a deep-toned "Come in."

Then he started and stared, for there was a fine-looking middle-aged
lady seated near the doctor's table, who turned to look at him
searchingly as he stopped short.

"I beg pardon, sir. You sent for me?"

"Yes, yes, Braydon: come in. This is Lady O'Hara."

"Yes, I'm Lady O'Hara. Look at that, now. A great strapping fellow!
And he told Sir John that it was his little boy."

Nic stared, for this was spoken loudly, in a pleasant rich voice, with
an intonation that decidedly fitted with the name.

"Yes, yes," said the doctor, who