with a bow and a `Thank you, sir.' I am really
sorry for the boy; for as I was obliged to send him to Dr Lane, he will
probably get another flogging from him."

"What a worthless boy he must be," answered Mr Robertson.

"No, not exactly worthless; there's something about him I can't help
liking; but most impudent and stubborn."

"Excuse me," said Mr Percival, another of the masters, who had been
listening attentively to the conversation; "I humbly venture to think
that you're both mistaken in that boy. I like him exceedingly, and
think him as promising a lad as any in the school. I never knew any boy
behave more modestly and respectfully."

"Why, how do you know anything of him?" asked Mr Robertson in surprise.

"Only by accident. I had once or twice noticed him among the _detenus_,
and being sorry to think that a new boy should be an _habitue_ of the
extra schoolroom, I asked him one day why he was sent. He told me that
it was for failing in a lesson, and when I asked why he hadn't learnt
it, he said, very simply and respectfully, `I really did my very best,
sir; but it's all new work to me.' Look at the boy's innocent, engaging
face, and you will be sure that he was telling me the truth.

"I'm afraid," continued Mr Percival, "you'll think this very slight
ground for setting my opinion against yours; but I was pleased with
Evson's manner, and asked him to come and take a stroll on the shore,
that I might know something more of him. Do you know, I never found a
more intelligent companion. He was all life and vivacity; it was quite
a pleasure to be with him. Being new to the sea, he didn't know the
names of the commonest things on the shore, and if you had seen his face
light up as he kept picking up whelk's eggs, and mermaid's purses, and
zoophytes, and hermit-crabs, and bits of plocamium or coralline, and
asking me all I could tell him about them, you would not have thought
him a stupid or worthless boy."

"I don't know, Percival; _you_ are a regular conjuror. All sorts of
ne'er-do-wells succeed under your manipulation. You're a first-rate
hand at gathering grapes from thorns, and figs from thistles. Why, even
out of that Caliban, old Woods, you used to extract a gleam of human
intelligence."

"He wasn't a Caliban at all. I found him an excellent fellow at heart;
but what could you expect of a boy who, because he was big, awkward, and
stupid, was always getting flouted on all sides? Sir Hugh Evan