This reproach made Horace terribly angry with himself, with Rawlett, with everything.

'I'll tell Rawlett what a brute he is!' he exclaimed.

'No, don't,' said Harry. There's no use of saying anything more about it. Only, Horace, I wish you hadn't so much to do with Rawlett. He isn't a nice fellow.'

'I won't have anything to do with him after this,' said Horace wrathfully, and went down stairs with the full intention of telling Rawlett so.

Mr

But Rawlett was cunning as well as cruel; and when he saw Horace's frowning face, had an idea what he wanted to say, and kept carefully out of the way. and Mrs Dunning were in the room; so, of course, Horace did not like to speak out as he would have done if only the other boys had been there. And before breakfast was finished, Rawlett, pretending that his nose was bleeding, went to his own room; and when the other boys came upstairs, they found that he had taken his books and gone off to school.

'What a coward he is!' thought Horace. 'But I shall find him out yet, and tell him a bit of my mind.'

Rawlett was nowhere to be seen on the road to the Academy, however; and when he arrived there, Horace joined in a game at hales, and forgot, for a time at least, his wrath.

When the bell rung, Rawlett of course appeared in his place in the class; but, for a wonder, he happened that day to be pretty high up, while Horace was very low down, so that they were not able to speak to one another.

It happened to be Wednesday, the visiting day of the Academy, when the parents and friends of the boys are at liberty to visit the classes during school hours, a privilege much made use of by zealous tutors and anxious mammas, who cannot understand why their little darlings should not be at the head of the class. Nearly all mammas think their children cleverer than other children, though schoolmasters could tell perhaps a different story. However, this is not to the point: what I intended to say

was, that on this Wednesday, one old gentleman and two mammas were sitting on the visitors' seat in Mr Gray's classroom. Now, to understand the story which I am going to tell in this page, it must be known that Mr Gray, though not generally a strict master, was always very fidgety about his boys behaving well in the presence of visitors.

Horace, who was sitting at the end of a form, was playing tricks with the boy next him, our friend Matthews, the same who had bestowed upon Horace the nickname of Cockles.' These two were laughingly pinching and shoving one another, as boys who don't attend to their lessons will do when their master's back is turned; and be it remembered that in teaching a class of seventy boys, Mr Gray could not be expected to have his eye upon every one of them at once. But suddenly his attention was attracted by a noise behind his back, followed by a suppressed titter; and turning sharply round, he saw Horace sprawling on the floor, having been taken unawares by a strong push from Matthews.

Horace lost no time in getting up, and took his seat again, looking very sheepish.

'Hazelwood!' said Mr Gray, looking sternly at him.

This was all he said, for he did not like to punish or scold before visitors; but there was something in his tone which made the boys see that as soon as the visitors were gone, Horace or Matthews, or both of them, would 'get into a row.'

After this, for a while they both sat very still and quiet you may be sure; but presently, when Mr Gray's back was again turned, Matthews whispered to Horace, 'I'll catch it.'

'No, you won't,' said Horace, thinking that he saw a splendid chance for letting the other boys see what a fine fellow he was. 'I'll take the blame myself, and say nothing about you.'

'Oh no,' remonstrated Matthews; but, like some other boys I know, who are rather free with their tongues, he

was a bit of a coward, and was really rather glad that Horace should take the blame, for Mr Gray's face had an unpleasant frown on it; and though he was usually one of the kindest and most indulgent of schoolmasters, he could be severe too, when he got his horns out,' as the boys used to say.

Presently the visitors rose and left one by one.

First the old gentleman went; and Horace began to feel rather nervous. Then one of the ladies followed, and at length the other; and then Mr Gray said sharply,

6 Hazelwood, come here. What do you mean by making a disturbance in the class before visitors? I am ashamed of you.'

Horace had nothing to say for himself, but stood fidgeting with his thumbs. He knew that he should get off punishment by telling that Matthews pushed him; but he had determined not to do so, thinking, and rightly, that the other boys would be pleased with him for it.

Mr Gray said nothing more, but walked up to a certain well-known drawer in his desk, and unlocking it, brought out the tawse. Now my English friends may be puzzled to know what this mysterious article was, and for their benefit, I may explain that the tawse is a stout leather strap divided into tails at one end; and when I say that this instrument is used in Scotland in the same manner and for the same purpose as the cane in England, I will be understood. It is with the tawse, rather than the cane, that naughty Scotch boys are generally made to shake hands.

Horace had never as yet made the acquaintance of the tawse, but was resolved to show the boys that he did not care; and so put out his hand in such a bold, defiant manner, that Mr Gray was a little provoked, and gave him several severe cuts on each hand (palmies is the proper word), which made Horace bite his lips, and resolve to keep clear of playing tricks in the class for the future. But he didn't cry; and when the punishment was over,

walked back to his seat, proud of the idea that all the class were looking at him, and thinking what a brave, generous fellow he was.

Indeed, the other boys did admire his conduct, and not without reason. But Horace was quite vain enough about his own unselfishness, without being still more puffed up at the playground by such remarks as―

"Why, Cockles, you're a jolly fellow for not telling on Matthews.'

'Isn't he? And didn't he take the licking well?' 'I'm sure it was very jolly and plucky of you!' This was from Matthews.

And Master Rawlett in his cunning, seeing in what a self-satisfied frame of mind Horace was, thought that this would be a good time to make up with him again; and 50, rushing up with great eagerness, and clapping him on the back, he exclaimed

'What a noble fellow you are, Horace! There's not another fellow in the class would have done it.'

Horace had had all morning an angry speech on his lips for Rawlett; but how could he deliver it after being addressed by him in such a tone? It is not easy for a boy to quarrel with another who has just been praising him to his face. So he said nothing then about Rawlett's ill-treatment of Harry; and whenever they met during the rest of the day, Rawlett took good care to tickle Horace's vanity by some allusions to his punishment, and so prevented any angry words from him. The result was, that Horace thought that there would be no good in quarrelling with Rawlett, and at three o'clock. walked home with him, apparently as friendly as ever. Yet he resolved that for the future he would have less to do with Rawlett and with his temptations. It was not long before his resolution was tested.

That same evening, when the boys had finished repeating their lessons, Horace and Rawlett were accompanying Mr Willis to the door, a piece of politeness which Mr Dunning never allowed them to neglect. But before Mr

Willis left the house, he seemed suddenly to recollect something, and said

Perhaps I could see Mr Dunning just now for a few minutes. Is he in, do you know?'

'I'll go and see,' said Horace, running to the diningroom. But Mr Dunning was not there, nor in the library, nor in his own room; and Horace had to have recourse to the housemaid, who informed him that Mr Dunning had gone out, and would not be home till ten o'clock.

'Mr Dunning is out, and won't be home till ten o'clock,' repeated he to Mr Willis.

'Ah, very well! I'll see him to-morrow. Good-night.' 'Good night, sir;' but the boys, instead of going in, lingered for a moment at the open door, looking out at the bright moonlight night.

'Horace,' said Rawlett abruptly, 'you showed that you had some pluck to-day. Are you game for some regular fun?'

'Of course,' said Horace thoughtlessly.

'Well, I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll go out and have a walk. It's great fun being out at night.'

'But Mr Dunning doesn't allow us.'

'That's a pity, seeing that we can go without his leave. Didn't you hear Mary say that he wouldn't be back till ten? Nobody will ever miss us, unless Maxwell comes prowling into the schoolroom, as he sometimes takes it into his head to do. But I heard Maxwell groaning away over a long essay that he has to finish to-night, so he's not likely to stir out of the library.'

'Oh, I don't care to go out at night,' said Horace.

'Nonsense, now. You said to me just the day before yesterday that you wished we were allowed to go out at night. Come now, tell the truth; you're afraid of being caught. Well, well, I should have thought you had more pluck than that !’

'I'm not afraid,' said Horace. 'But we haven't got our boots on.'