assistance of occasional monitors selected from the best pupils. Good
order prevailed in the school, for little that went on there escaped the
master's alert eye. Even when he drowsed at his desk, as he sometimes did
on warm afternoons, the work was not delayed, for he was known to have a
trick of awakening with a jerk, and smartly nailing a culprit or a
dawdler.

The school to-day was in a tense and excitable condition, now heightened
to fever by the two cobwebbed mysteries standing against the wall, but
the imperative rattle of Joel's cane on the desk quickly induced a
specious show of industry.

'Gable!'

The individual addressed, a big scholar in the Lower Third, was so
absorbed in the spectacle provided by Haddon and McKnight that he failed
to hear the master's voice, and continued staring stupidly with all his
eyes.

'Gable! This way, my dear child.'

Gable started guiltily, and then fell into confusion. He climbed
awkwardly, out of his seat, and advanced hesitatingly with shuffling feet
towards the master. It was now evident that Gable was not a large boy,
but a little old man, slightly built, with a round ruddy clean-shaven
face and thick white hair. But his manner was that of a boy of eight.

'Hold out, my young friend!' Joel commanded, with an expressive flourish
of his cane.