“Ah, Tucker,” greeted Doctor Collins the next morning. “Sit down, please.” Toby lowered himself carefully to the edge of a leather-seated chair at the end of the big flat-topped desk and clutched his cap desperately. The Principal laid aside the letter he had been reading and swung around in his chair until he faced the visitor. “How are you getting on, my boy?” he asked, gravely pleasant. Toby took courage. Perhaps things weren’t going to be as bad as he had feared. “All right, sir, thanks,” he answered. “Having no trouble with your studies?” “No, sir, not much.” “Any at all?” “Why, I don’t get on so well with Latin,” said Toby hesitantly. “But everything else is all right, I think.” Doctor Collins picked up a card at his elbow and looked it over. “Your report for last month is very fair, Tucker,” he said. “There’s nothing here to indicate any difficulty with Latin.” He looked inquiringly over the top of the card. “I――I only meant that sometimes it was very hard to get, sir,” replied the boy, “but I generally get it.” “Oh, I see!” The Doctor smiled. “That’s another story. I’m glad you are getting along as well as you are, Tucker,” he continued more soberly. “You see, when we award a scholarship to a student we look to him to prove our judgment correct. We expect him to maintain an excellent class standing and be very particular as to deportment and always obedient to the school regulations. We try to have as few regulations as possible, but of necessity there are some. In short, Tucker, we expect a scholarship student to set an example to others, an example of studiousness, earnestness and good behavior. You understand?” “Yes, sir,” murmured Toby. “Do you go in for athletics any, Tucker?” “Hockey, sir.” “Does that take much of your time? More, I mean, than the two hours which the school expects you to devote to outdoor exercise?” “N-no, sir, I guess not. Yes, sir, it does, too, because since last Tuesday I’ve been practicing with Grover Beech for an hour in the morning.” “At what time?” “From eleven to twelve, sir. We neither of us have a recitation then.” “What time do you get up usually, Tucker?” “About seven, sir. Sometimes before.” “And breakfast at about half-past seven?” “Yes, sir, usually. Sometimes it’s a quarter to eight, if I wait for――for Deering.” “Then you’re through by eight-thirty generally? In plenty of time for chapel?” “Yes, sir, always.” “Now tell me what the trouble was on Monday. You missed chapel that morning, I believe?” “Yes, sir,” Toby hesitated. “I didn’t know how late――” He paused again and then added desperately: “I forgot about it, sir.” “That’s what this report says, Tucker, but I can’t quite understand how you could forget a thing that happens every morning, as regularly as breakfast. I see that you missed chapel only once before, early in October, on which occasion you were excused from attendance. That is right?” “Yes, sir, the doctor excused me. I had a sore throat.”