“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Byron, decidedly. “I do not expect to have to take you away from Dr. Moncrief for the next eighteen months at least, and not then unless you work properly. Now don’t grumble, Cashel; you annoy me exceedingly when you do. I am sorry I mentioned Cambridge to you.” “I would rather go to some other school, then,” said Cashel, ruefully. “Old Moncrief is so awfully down on me.” “You only want to leave because you are expected to work here; and that is the very reason I wish you to stay.” Cashel made no reply; but his face darkened ominously. “I have a word to say to the doctor before I go,” she added, reseating herself. “You may return to your play now. Good-bye, Cashel.” And she again raised her face to be kissed. “Good-bye,” said Cashel, huskily, as he turned toward the door, pretending that he had not noticed her action. “Cashel!” she said, with emphatic surprise. “Are you sulky?” “No,” he retorted, angrily. “I haven’t said anything. I suppose my manners are not good enough, I’m very sorry; but I can’t help it.” “Very well,” said Mrs. Byron, firmly. “You can go, Cashel. I am not pleased with you.” Cashel walked out of the room and slammed the door. At the foot of the staircase he was stopped by a boy about a year younger than himself, who accosted him eagerly. “How much did she give you?” he whispered. “Not a halfpenny,” replied Cashel, grinding his teeth. “Oh, I say!” exclaimed the other, much disappointed. “That was beastly mean.” “She’s as mean as she can be,” said Cashel. “It’s all old Monkey’s fault. He has been cramming her with lies about me. But she’s just as bad as he is. I tell you, Gully, I hate my mother.” “Oh, come!” said Gully, shocked. “That’s a little too strong, old chap. But she certainly ought to have stood something.” “I don’t know what you intend to do, Gully; but I mean to bolt. If she thinks I am going to stick here for the next two years she is jolly much mistaken.” “It would be an awful lark to bolt,” said Gully, with a chuckle. “But,” he added, seriously, “if you really mean it, by George, I’ll go too! Wilson has just given me a thousand lines; and I’ll be hanged if I do them.” “Gully,” said Cashel, his eyes sparkling, “I should like to see one of those chaps we saw on the common pitch into the doctor--get him on the ropes, you know.” Gully’s mouth watered. “Yes,” he said, breathlessly; “particularly the fellow they called the Fibber. Just one round would be enough for the old beggar. Let’s come out into the playground; I shall catch it if I am found here.” II