sneer, and never spoke to him at
all.

Meanwhile, as the term advanced, Saint Winifred's gradually revealed
itself to Charlie in a more and more unfavourable light. The discipline
of the school was in a most impaired state; the evening work grew more
and more disorderly; few of the monitors did their duty with any vigour,
and the big idle fellows in the fifth set the example of insolence
towards them and rudeness to the masters. All rules were set at
defiance with impunity, and in the chaos which ensued, every one did
what was right in his own eyes.

One evening, during evening work, Charlie was trying hard to do the
verses which had been set to his form. He found it very difficult in
the noise that was going on. Not half a dozen fellows in the room were
working or attempting to work; they were talking, laughing, rattling the
desks, playing tricks on each other, and throwing books about the room.
The one bewildered new master, who nominally kept order among the two
hundred boys in the room, walked up and down in despair, speaking in
vain first to one, then to another, and almost giving up the farce of
attempting to maintain silence. But seeing Charlie seriously at work he
came up and asked if he could give him any assistance.

Charlie gratefully thanked him, and the master sat down to try and
smooth some of his difficulties. His doing so was the sign for an
audible titter, which there was no attempt to suppress; and when he had
passed on, Wilton, whose conduct had been more impertinent than that of
any one else, said to Charlie--

"I say, young Evson, how you are grinding."

"I have these verses to do," said Charlie simply.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Wilton, as though he had made some good joke.
"Here, shall I give you a wrinkle?"

"Yes, if it's allowed."

The answer was greeted with another laugh, and Wilton said, "I'll save
you all further trouble, young 'un. Observe the dodge; we're all up to
it."

He put up a white handkerchief to his nose, and walking to the master
said, "Please, sir, my nose is bleeding. May I go out for a minute?"

"Your nose bleeding? That's the third time your nose has bled this
week, and other boys have also come with their noses bleeding."

"Do you doubt my word, sir?" asked Wilton, his handkerchief still held
up, and assuming an injured air.

"I should be sorry to do so until you give me reason," answered the
master, courteously. "It seems a strange circumstance, but yo