y were formed of birch twigs, very tightly bound together, and
about the thickness of the handle of a bat; beyond this handle some ten
or twelve twigs extended for about eighteen inches. The Doctor seldom
made any remark beyond giving the order, "Hold out your hand."

The unfortunate to be punished held out his arm at a level with his
shoulder, back uppermost. Raising his arm so that the rod fell almost
straight behind his back, Dr. Litter would bring it down, stroke after
stroke, with a passionless and mechanical air, but with a sweeping force
which did its work thoroughly. Four cuts was the normal number, but if
it was the third time a boy had been sent up during the term he would
get six. But four sufficed to swell the back of the hand, and cover it
with narrow weals and bruises. It was of course a point of honour that
no sound should be uttered during punishment. When it was over the
Doctor would throw the broken rod scornfully upon the ground and return
to his seat. The Junior then carried it away and placed a fresh one upon
the desk.

The rods were treated with a sort of reverence, for no Junior Queen's
Scholar ever went up or down school for any purpose without first going
over to the monitor's table and lightly touching the rod as he passed.

Such was school at Westminster forty years since, and it has but little
changed to the present day.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II.

A COLD SWIM.

IT is winter. Christmas is close at hand, and promises to be a bitterly
cold one. The ice has formed smooth and black across the Serpentine, and
a number of people are walking along by its banks, looking forward to
some grand skating if the frost does but hold two days longer. The sky
is blue, and the sun shining brightly; the wind is fresh and keen; it is
just the day when people well-clad, well-fed, and in strong health, feel
their blood dancing more freely than usual through their veins, and
experience an unusual exhilaration of spirits. Merry laughter often
rises from the groups on the bank, and the air rings with the sharp
sound made by pieces of ice sent skimming by mischievous boys over the
glassy surface, to the disgust of skaters, who foresee future falls as
the result of these fragments should a slight thaw freeze them to the
surface.

Among those walking by the edge of the ice were Frank Norris and Fred
Barkley; with them was a bright-faced girl of some fourteen years old.
Alice Hardy was cousin to both