And Peter, for the first time in his school life, was happy. There was something after all in being up against all these people. He was a general fighting against tremendous odds. He would show them next year that they must obey. On the last afternoon of the term he sat alone in his study. Bobby was with the matron, packing. He was conscious, as he sat there, of the sound of many feet shuffling. There were many whispers beyond his door, and yet a great silence. He waited for a little, and then he opened his door and looked out. As he did so the bell for roll-call rang through the building, and he knew that it was his roll. Afternoon roll-call was always taken in the gymnasium, a large empty room beyond the study passage, and it was the custom for boys to come up as their name was about to be called and thus to pass on. But to-day he saw that the whole of the school was gathered there, along the dusky passage and packed, in a silent motionless throng, into the gymnasium. He knew that they were all there with a purpose, and suddenly as he realised the insult that they intended, that spirit of exultation came upon him again. Ah! it was worth while, this battle! They made way in silence as he passed quietly to the other end of the gymnasium and stood, a little above them, on the steps that led to the gallery. He started the roll-call with the head of the school and the sixth form ... there was no answer to any name; only perfect silence and every eye fixed upon him. For a wild moment he wished to burst out upon them, to crash their heads together, to hurt--then his self-control returned. Very quietly and clearly he read through the school list, a faint smile on his lips. Bobby Galleon was the only boy, out of three hundred, who answered. When he had finished he called out as was the custom, “Roll is over,” then for a brief instant, with the list in his hand, smiling, he faced them all. Every eye was upon him--Ellershaw, West, Barton smiling a little, some faces nervous, some excited, all bitterly, intensely hostile ... and he must return next year! He came down from the steps and walked very slowly to the door, and then as his fingers touched the handle there was a sound--a whisper, very soft and then louder; it grew about his ear like a shot ... the whole school, motionless as before, was hissing him. There was no word spoken, and he closed the door behind him. IV That same night he walked, before chapel, with Bobby to the top of the playing fields. The night was dark and heavy, with no moon nor stars--but there was a cool wind that touched his cheek. “Well, I've been a pretty good failure, Bobby. You've stuck to me like a brick. I shall never forget it.... But you know never in all my life have I been as happy as I was this afternoon. The devils! I'll have 'em under next year.” “That's not the way--” Bobby tried timorously to explain.