"How is it?" puzzled Mr. Meddler, another of the prebendaries: "has Arkell superior abilities, and have all the rest none? Answer for yourself, Arkell." The boy hesitated. Both in mind and manners he was so different from the general run of schoolboys; and he could not bear to be thus held out as a sort of pattern for the rest. "It is not my fault, sir--or theirs. My father has always kept me to my studies so closely out of school hours, and attended to them himself, that I could not help getting on in advance of the school." "Wilberforce," roughly spoke up Dr. Ferraday, in his overbearing manner, "how is it that this boy is not senior?" "That post is attained by priority of entrance, sir," replied the master. "Arkell can only become senior boy when those above him leave." "He ought to be senior now." "We cannot act against the customs of the school, Dr. Ferraday," repeated the master. "Arkell is at the first desk, but he cannot be senior of the school out of his turn." "Can you tell me whence England chiefly procures her supplies of cotton?" asked Mr. Meddler, mildly, of a mild-looking boy belonging to the third desk. "You, sir; Van Brummel, I think your name is." Mr. Van Brummel, considerably taken-to at being addressed individually, lost his head completely. "From the signing of Magna Charta by King John." "Why, what a stupid owl you must be!" snapped Dr. Ferraday, before Canon Meddler could speak. Mr. Van Brummel's face turned red; he was a timid boy, and he wondered whether they would order him to be flogged. "Please, sir, I know that's the answer in the book," he earnestly said: "I learnt them over again this morning." "It may be an answer to something, but not to my question," said Mr. Meddler, as he stepped apart to confer with his colleagues. "What is to be done, Mr. Dean? This state of things cannot be allowed to go on." They talked for a few moments together, and then the dean turned to the boys. "Stand forward, Arkell." Henry Arkell advanced, a hot flush on his sensitive face; and the Dean threw round his neck a broad blue ribbon, suspending a medal of gold. "I have much pleasure in bestowing this upon you; never was reward more justly merited; and," he concluded, raising his voice high as he swept the room with his eyes, "I feel bound to declare publicly, that Henry Cheveley Arkell is an honour to Westerbury collegiate school." "As all the rest of you are a disgrace to it," stormed Dr. Ferraday on the discomfited lot behind. "You must let me have it back again to-morrow morning, that I may get your name inscribed on it," said the dean to Henry, in a low tone. "Wear it for to-day."