"Yes, that is exactly the class of institution I mean. I know of one close to London, and will send him there, so that he may be tamed into obedience." "Then I tell you that you will do that boy a grievous wrong," cried Joe, roused to anger by Edward Western's words. "Only boys of vicious nature are sent to such schools. Of the backward ones I say nothing, for Phil's wits are as ready as any boy's, and he is decidedly not a dunce. Nor is he vicious, as you seem to think. For Heaven's sake look with a more open mind at the matter. Here is a merry, good-hearted lad whom, because he gets into mischief, you would pack off to a school for unruly boys. I hope you will not insist on sending him to this place, for, as I have said, he is not so bad as you think." "Yes, I insist, Joseph, and no amount of argument will alter that decision." "Ah, I wish I had the power to compel you to do so!" said Joe bitterly. "But perhaps it is all for the best. Such schools, no doubt, are much as the others, save that a boy starts as it were with a black mark against his name. Let us hope that the headmaster of the one in your thoughts will see at a glance what sort of a lad he has in reality to deal with, and treat him accordingly." CHAPTER TWO. OLD BUMBLE. Mr Western was as good as his word, and within a week of his last escapade Phil was despatched to a certain school, situated in the outskirts of London, where only backward and incorrigible lads were received. "I am thoroughly displeased and disappointed with you," said the vicar severely, as he lectured Phil just before his departure. "I lifted you from poverty, provided you with a home, and for years have devoted all my spare hours to you. You know what my wishes and hopes were. They are still the same. Disappoint me again, get into further disgrace, and I will disown you." "I'll do my best to keep out of trouble," Phil answered, with a catch in his voice, for the lad was at heart fond of his home and of his guardians. "I will not promise to follow your wishes though. I don't know why it is, but I loathe the thought of being a clergyman. I love a free and open life; and besides, a clever man is required for the Church, and I am scarcely that. Still, father, I will try my best, and should I do anything wrong, it shall not be such as to cause you to feel any shame." "Then we shall see, Philip. But remember my warning," answered the vicar. That evening a cab stopped outside a big stone building in Highgate and deposited Phil and his baggage on the pavement. For a moment he looked round in bewilderment, for this was the first time he had been in the neighbourhood of, or in fact, anywhere near, the great city; but a gruff "Five bob fare, please", and "that there's Ebden's School", recalled his wandering wits. Phil paid the money, and then, remembering that he would require someone to help him with his baggage, asked the surly driver to get off his seat.