the other end of the
big school. One day, as ill-luck would have it, the game became more
exciting than usual, and the ball slipped through East's fingers, and
rolled slowly down the steps, and out into the middle of the school,
just as the masters turned in their walk and faced round upon the desk.
The young delinquents watched their master through the look-out holes,
march slowly down the school straight upon their retreat, while all the
boys in the neighbourhood of course stopped their work to look on: and
not only were they ignominiously drawn out, and caned over the hand then
and there, but their characters for steadiness were gone from that time.
However, as they only shared the fate of some three-fourths of the rest
of the form, this did not weigh heavily upon them.

In fact, the only occasions on which they cared about the matter were
the monthly examinations, when the Doctor came round to examine their
form, for one long awful hour, in the work which they had done in the
preceding month. The second monthly examination came round soon after
Tom's fall, and it was with anything but lively anticipations that he
and the other lower-fourth boys came in to prayers on the morning of the
examination day.

Prayers and calling-over seemed twice as short as usual, and before they
could get construes of a tithe of the hard passages marked in the margin
of their books, they were all seated round, and the Doctor was standing
in the middle, talking in whispers to the master. Tom couldn't hear a
word which passed, and never lifted his eyes from his book; but he knew
by a sort of magnetic instinct that the Doctor's under lip was coming
out, and his eye beginning to burn, and his gown getting gathered up
more and more tightly in his left hand. The suspense was agonizing, and
Tom knew that he was sure on such occasions to make an example of the
School-house boys. "If he would only begin," thought Tom, "I shouldn't
mind."

At last the whispering ceased, and the name which was called out was not
Brown. He looked up for a moment, but the Doctor's face was too awful;
Tom wouldn't have met his eye for all he was worth, and buried himself
in his book again.

The boy who was called up first was a clever merry School-house boy, one
of their set: he was some connection of the Doctor's, and a great
favourite, and ran in and out of his house as he liked, and so was
selected for the first victim.

"Triste lupus, stabulis," began the lu