sprang ten minutes too late, and came down to breakfast about the time
of the second slice of bread and marmalade. Result, a hundred lines.
Proceeding to school, he had again fallen foul of his house-master--in
whose form he was--over a matter of unprepared Livy. As a matter of
fact, Jackson _had_ prepared the Livy. Or, rather, he had not
absolutely _prepared_ it; but he had meant to. But it was Mr
Templar's preparation, and Mr Templar was short-sighted. Any one will
understand, therefore, that it would have been simply chucking away the
gifts of Providence if he had not gone on with the novel which he had
been reading up till the last moment before prep-time, and had brought
along with him accidentally, as it were. It was a book called _A
Spoiler of Men_, by Richard Marsh, and there was a repulsive crime on
nearly every page. It was Hot Stuff. Much better than Livy....

Lunch Score--Two hundred lines.

During lunch he had the misfortune to upset a glass of water. Pure
accident, of course, but there it was, don't you know, all over the
table.

Mr Dexter had called him--

(a) clumsy;
(b) a pig;

and had given him

(1) Advice--"You had better be careful, Jackson".
(2) A present--"Two hundred lines, Jackson".