esence of a medical man would, he knew, save the Doctor a
great deal of anxiety. Having done this he walked up to Blackall, and
put his hand on his shoulder.

"Things do not take place in this school without my hearing of them," he
remarked. "Mr Strutt thinks you wounded Bracebridge on purpose. I
believe that you are capable of any crime: but come with me to the
Doctor; we will hear what judgment he pronounces on the subject."

Blackall would gladly have got away or shrunk into himself; but when he
found that he had no channel of escape, he seemed to screw up his
courage to face out boldly the charges brought against him.

It is a very unpleasant subject. I would rather not have had to
describe Blackall and his misdeeds; but as his character is so odious, I
hold him up as a warning to some not to imitate him, and to others to
avoid, and on no account to trust to or to form any friendship with such
a person when they meet him.

There was in the house a strong-room, in which occasionally very
refractory boys were locked up. Confinement in it was looked upon with
peculiar dislike, and considered a great disgrace. It was furnished
with books and slates, and pens, ink, and paper, and the boy who was put
in was always awarded a task, which he had to perform before he was let
out. Any of the masters might put a boy in there, and incarceration in
this place was the only punishment they were allowed to inflict on their
own responsibility.

"There, go in there; translate and write out for me these five pages of
English into French, and learn these fifty lines of Racine," said
Monsieur Malin, as he put Blackall in, and, locking the door, took away
the key. "I will report your conduct to the Doctor, and hear what he
has to say to it."

Blackall was left in a great fright. He did not know what part of his
conduct might be reported, and he felt conscious that he was guilty of
many things which, if known, would cause him to be expelled. He knew
also that Monsieur Malin would not excuse him his task, so he tried to
get through with it; but all his efforts were in vain. He could do
nothing, and his thoughts would turn to the act of which he had just
been guilty. "I did not want to hurt him--I did not want to kill him,"
he said to himself; but each time that he said so conscience replied,
"You did; you know you did. Cowardly mean-spirited revenge induced you
to commit the act, and it shall not go unpunished."

The Do