The dean held to his privilege for once, and gave Mr. Wilberforce notice that he had filled up the vacancy by bestowing it on the son of Mr. Peter Arkell. Mr. Wilberforce, privately believing that the world was about to be turned upside-down, could only bow and acquiesce. He did it with a good grace, and sent a courteous message for Henry to be there on the following Monday, at early school. Accordingly, at seven o'clock, Henry was there. He did not like to troop in with the college boys, but waited until the head-master had come, and entered then. Mr. Wilberforce called him up, inscribed his name on the school-roll, put a few questions to him as to the state of his studies, and then assigned him his place. The boy was walking to it with that self-consciousness of something like a thousand eyes being on him--so terrible to the mind of a sensitive nature, and his was eminently one--when the head-master's voice was heard. "Arkell, junior." Never supposing "Arkell, junior," could be meant for him, he went timidly on; but the voice rose higher. "Arkell, junior." It was so peremptory that Henry turned, and found it _was_ meant for him. The sensitive crimson dyed his face deeper and deeper as he retraced his steps to the head-master's desk. "Are you lame, Arkell, junior?" "Oh, it's nothing, sir. It's nearly well." "What's the matter, then?" "I fell down last week, sir, and hurt my knee a little." "Oh. Go to your desk." "What a girl's face!" cried one, as Henry recommenced his promenade, for the indicated place was far down in the school. "I'm blest if I don't believe it is the knight of the water-barrel!" exclaimed a big boy at the first desk. "Won't Lewis take it out of him! I hope he may get off with whole bones; but I'd not bet upon it." "Lewis had better not try it on, or you either, Forbes," quietly struck in the second senior of the school, who was writing within hearing. "Why, do you know him, Mr. Arkell?" "Never you mind. I intend to take care of him." The boys were trooping through the cloisters when school was over, and met the dean. Georgina was with him. She caught sight of Henry's face, and in her impulsive fashion dashed through the throng of boys to his side. "Papa, he's here! Papa! he _is_ here." The dean, in his kindly manner, shook Henry by the hand. "Be a good boy, mind," he said. "Remember, you are under me." "I'll try, sir," replied Henry. "Do. I shall not lose sight of you." And, with a general nod to the rest, he departed, taking his daughter's hand. For a full minute there was a dead silence. It was so entirely unusual a thing for the dean to shake hands familiarly with a college boy, that those gentry did not at first decide how to take it. Then one of them, more impudent than the rest, bowed his body down before the new junior with mock gravity. "If you please, sir, wouldn't you be pleased to make yourself cock of the school after this, and cut out St. John?"