philosophical regret.

'Arsk Jock Summers yerseif if you don't believe me,' growled the boy.

'No, no,' said the master shaking his head sadly, 'you are lying very
badly to-day, Ginger. You have the heart to do it, but not the art. Hold
up!

Dick's hand went out unfalteringly.

'One,' said the master. 'Two! Hurt, eh? Well, be consoled with the
reflection that all knowledge is simply pain codified. Three! Four--no, I
will owe you the fourth.'

Jacker Mack, and Ted, and Peterson were prey to the wildest curiosity.
Peterson risked cuts with criminal recklessness in his efforts to
communicate with Dick when the latter took his seat, and Jacker, who sat
next, edged up close to Dick and whispered excitedly:

'What happened? What'd he do? Where yer been?'

'Been,' said Dick, 'oh, just havin' dinner up at The House.'

'Wha-at--with ole Jock?'

'With Mr. and Mrs. Summers, J.P.'

'Gerrout! yer can't stuff me.'

'Oh, all right, Jacker, don't excite yerseif. Perhaps they didn't give me