Of all the useless and irritating things in this world, lines are
probably the most useless and the most irritating. In fact, I only
know of two people who ever got any good out of them. Dunstable, of
Day's, was one, Linton, of Seymour's, the other. For a portion of one
winter term they flourished on lines. The more there were set, the
better they liked it. They would have been disappointed if masters had
given up the habit of doling them out.

Dunstable was a youth of ideas. He saw far more possibilities in the
routine of life at Locksley than did the majority of his
contemporaries, and every now and then he made use of these
possibilities in a way that caused a considerable sensation in the
school.

In the ordinary way of school work, however, he was not particularly
brilliant, and suffered in consequence. His chief foe was his
form-master, Mr. Langridge. The feud between them had begun on
Dunstable's arrival in the form two terms before, and had continued
ever since. The balance of points lay with the master. The staff has
ways of scoring which the school has not. This story really begins
with the last day but one of the summer term. It happened that
Dunstable's people were going to make their annual migration to
Scotland on that day, and the Headmaster, approached on the subject
both by letter and in person, saw no reason why--the examinations
being over--Dunstable should not leave Locksley a day before the
end of term.

He called Dunstable to his study one night after preparation.