"It is not for the sake of the benefit," disclaimed Trace, his cheeks wearing their salmon-coloured tinge of satisfaction, "but for the honour it will bring. It would have been out of the order of just things for that tainted fellow to gain it over me." Of course. But nevertheless there was a feeling on some of them—led to, perhaps, by a word of Gall's—that it was an unfair thing for Paradyne to have been put out of the trial. The long table was removed from the middle of the hall—the sweating hall it was called that day—and the candidates sat across it, before the masters and the gentlemen. One of the masters was not there—Mr. Henry, and it was supposed he was resenting the defeat of Paradyne. Let us leave them to their work. The rest of the boys had a holiday, and highly agreeable they found it; although an order had been appended to the privilege that no noise whatever should be made within bounds, to the disturbance of the examiners. This rendered them a little uncertain what to do with themselves, until it entered into the bright head of Brown minor to propose to "have it out with Mother Butter." About ten of them started on this laudable errand, chiefly second-desk boys. But when they arrived at that estimable lady's residence, they found that she was abroad and her kitchen locked up. It was a disappointment. There was no paint convenient to paint the door green, as they had the cow, or they might have tried their hand at it. They stood disconsolate. "Let's take a look at old Henry in his sulks!" cried Mr. Smart, briskly. "Fancy his not showing at the examination!" "And ask him how he relishes Paradyne's being put out," added Lamb. "Won't it be jolly!" said Dick Loftus, beginning to dance. They turned to the door. Mr. Henry's assumed sullenness at Paradyne's defeat was set down partly to the special fact that he had coached that gentleman, partly to his mortification at the disclosure that he was not himself but somebody else. Trace had favoured the school with all particulars. This would be almost as good fun as Mother Butter. "Let's give a postman's knock, or he mayn't open it," whispered Leek. A postman's knock they gave; so far as fists upon a parlour door could imitate that sound. It was not so distinct as it might have been, from the fact that too many hands gave it in too many places. Mr. Henry's voice called out, "Come in," not very distinctly. And in they went. The room was empty, but in the small bed-chamber opening from it, the door thrown wide, they saw their master. He was in bed, sitting up in it, not lying, leaning back against some cushions. Ah yes, the incapability had come, all too soon. Had he seen the physician to-day instead of yesterday, there had been no need of the injunction, to give up work, to stay away from the college. The disease had shown itself rapidly and unmistakably; the power of exertion had left him. And there he lay; a desperate pain at his heart, and the crimson of hectic on his cheeks.