frightened, but in his fright there was a certain exultation. He had never
been swished. Of course it would hurt, but it was something to boast about
afterwards.

"Come into my study."

The headmaster turned, and they followed him side by side Singer whispered
to Philip:

"We're in for it."

Mr. Watson pointed to Singer.

"Bend over," he said.

Philip, very white, saw the boy quiver at each stroke, and after the third
he heard him cry out. Three more followed.

"That'll do. Get up."

Singer stood up. The tears were streaming down his face. Philip stepped
forward. Mr. Watson looked at him for a moment.

"I'm not going to cane you. You're a new boy. And I can't hit a cripple.
Go away, both of you, and don't be naughty again."

When they got back into the school-room a group of boys, who had learned
in some mysterious way what was happening, were waiting for them. They set
upon Singer at once with eager questions. Singer faced them, his face red
with the pain and marks of tears still on his cheeks. He pointed with his