They waited somewhat anxiously that day for the dreaded summons to Mr. Roylston’s outraged presence, but it did not come. That night on his way to Standerland from a meeting of the Dealonian, Tony found a sealed packet in his letter-box in the Old School. It was directed to him in Mr. Roylston’s minute slanting chirography. He tore it open, and found that it contained the confiscated copy of _The Spectacle_ and a note from the master therein caricatured. “I return to you under cover,” it ran, without address, “the manuscript for which, since it is in your handwriting, I presume you are responsible. It was confiscated from Finch in First Study this morning. I have read it enough to suggest that the wisest course will be for you to destroy this piece of scurrility at once, also any copies of it that may exist. I have only to say that the offense is so deep and gratuitous an insult that it is not punishable by any of the ordinary methods at our command. Vain as the supposition sometimes seems, we proceed at Deal School on the assumption that we have to treat with gentlemen and the sons of gentlemen. “E. ROYLSTON.” As he read this note, Tony by turns went hot and cold. The last sentence stung him to the quick. He was intensely angry, but as the first impulse of rage passed away, he realized with a bitter sense of humiliation that the master had a perfect right to his resentment; that for once he, Tony Deering, was absolutely, hopelessly in the wrong. Alas! while he had been fondly supposing that he was beginning to live more unselfishly, beginning to do more for others than he had ever done before, he had wantonly wounded and grossly insulted, as a result of indulging in his propensity to make fun, a fellow member of the school. With the shame and repentance warm in his heart, he hurried over to Howard House where Mr. Roylston roomed, and knocked at his door. The master looked up from his desk, as Tony entered, and his face hardened into a severe expression as he waited for his visitor to speak. “Sir,” exclaimed Tony, impulsively, “I’ve come to beg your pardon.... I know I have done an inexcusable thing, but I am sorry——.” Mr. Roylston laid his pen down and looked fixedly at the boy, but the muscles of his face did not relax. “Don’t you think, Deering,” he interrupted coolly, “that your apology comes with a bad grace after the offense is accidentally discovered? Apparently the despicable character of your method of poking fun seems only to occur to you when you are in danger of incurring the just penalty of such conduct.” Tony bit his lips, but he felt he deserved what the master chose to say. He would not spoil his apology by showing resentment. “I dare say it seems to you that way, sir. But I can only say that at first I simply saw the amusing side of it, and that it was not until I thought how it must have seemed to you that I realized it was an unkind caricature.”