pathy and kindness by the
others in his class. It was the dark part of the evening before
tea-time, and the boys, sitting idly round the fire, were in an apt mood
for folly and mischief. They began a vehement discussion about Paton's
demerits, and called him every hard name they could invent. Walter took
little part in this, for he was smarting too severely under the sense of
oppression to find relief in mere abuse; but, from his flashing eyes and
the dark scowl that sat so ill on his face it was evident that a bad
spirit had obtained the thorough mastery over all his better and gentler
impulses.

"Can't we do something to serve the fellow out?" said Anthony, one of
the boys in Walter's dormitory.

"But _what_ can we do?" asked several.

"What, indeed?" asked Henderson, mockingly; and as it was his way to
quote whatever he had last been reading, he began to spout from the
peroration of a speech which he had seen in the paper--"Aristocracy,
throned on the citadel of power, and strong in--"

"What a fool you are, Henderson," observed Franklin, another of the
group; "I'll tell you what we can do: we'll burn that horrid black book
in which he enters the detentions and impositions."

"Poor book!" said Henderson; "what pangs of conscience it will suffer in
the flames! Give it not the glory of such martyrdom. Walter," he
continued, in a lower voice, "I hope that you'll have nothing to do with
this humbug?"

"I will though, Henderson; if I'm to have nothing but canings and
floggings, I may just as well be caned and flogged for _something_ as
for _nothing_."

"The desk's locked," said Anthony; "we shan't be able to get hold of the
imposition-book."

"I'll settle that," said Walter; "here, just hand me the poker, Dubbs."

"I shall do no such thing," said Daubeny quietly, and his reply was
greeted with a shout of derision.

"Why, you poor coward, Dubbs," said Franklin, "you _couldn't_ get
anything for handing the poker."

"I never supposed I could, Franklin," he answered; "and as for being a
coward, the real cowardice would be to do what's absurd and wrong for
fear of being laughed at or being kicked. Well, you may hit me," he
said quietly, as Franklin twisted his arm tightly round, and hit him on
it, "but you can't make me do what I don't choose."

"We'll try," said Franklin, twisting his arm still more tightly, and
hitting harder.

"You'll try in vain," answered Daubeny, though the tears stood in his
eyes