conjecture was made; but as he did not condescend to explain his own
remarkable attitude, it was not long before the disrelish and suspicion
which had followed Jean Poquelin so many years fell also upon him.

It was only the next evening but one after his adventure that he made
himself a source of sullen amazement to one hundred and fifty boys, by
ordering them to desist from their wanton hallooing. Old Jean Poquelin,
standing and shaking his cane, rolling out his long-drawn maledictions,
paused and stared, then gave the Secretary a courteous bow and started
on. The boys, save one, from pure astonishment, ceased but a ruffianly
little Irish lad, more daring than any had yet been, threw a big
hurtling clod, that struck old Poquelin between the shoulders and burst
like a shell. The enraged old man wheeled with uplifted staff to give
chase to the scampering vagabond; and--he may have tripped, or he may
not, but he fell full length. Little White hastened to help him up, but
he waved him off with a fierce imprecation and staggering to his feet
resumed his way homeward. His lips were reddened with blood.

Little White was on his way to the meeting of the Board. He would have
given all he dared spend to have staid away, for he felt both too fierce
and too tremulous to brook the criticisms that were likely to be made.

"I can't help it, gentlemen; I can't help you to make a case against the
old man, and I'm not going to."

"We did not expect this disappointment, Mr. White."

"I can't help that, sir. No, sir; you had better not appoint any more
investigations. Somebody'll investigate himself into trouble. No, sir;
it isn't a threat, it is only my advice, but I warn you that whoever