“I am sorry to say,” interrupted Mr. Roylston, from his seat on the window-bench, in low distinct tones in which there was discernible but a trace of feeling, “I am sorry to say there is an ‘unless.’ I regret very much to utter a discordant note to the chorus of praise that has been sounding for the boy whose name is under our consideration, but a sense of duty as well as deep personal feeling impels me to say that I should regard it as a calamity of injustice if he should receive this appointment.” The men turned with amazement and curiosity in the direction of the Latin master. “My experience of him,” that gentleman continued, “though it has scarcely been as intimate as that of Mr. Stenton or Mr. Morris,—both of whom, I understand, believe in as well as practice, cultivating intimacies with boys,—but it has been as extended. And never, I desire to say, in my long experience have I had as much trouble or been subjected to such impertinence and insult as by Deering and his satellites.” Doctor Forester interrupted his assistant master a little impatiently. “I should be obliged if you will specify some of his delinquencies, Mr. Roylston.” “I fear I should exhaust your patience,” replied the master, “if I attempted to detail the difficulties to which I have been subjected. I shall content myself with but one instance which was the culmination last spring of a long series of annoyances.” All of the men in the room were now giving Mr. Roylston an undivided attention. All were surprised except Beverly; even Morris looked at him with open-eyed amazement. They knew, of course, that he had had what they regarded trifling disciplinary troubles with Deering and his friends,—a lively crowd, especially in their Lower School days,—but they had no reason to suspect that the master would take such a definitely hostile attitude in a matter that seriously affected a boy’s school life. Doctor Forester had had some slight intimation, as it had been Mr. Roylston who urged the postponement of the appointment.