"It's not very right," replied Mr. Henry. "It injures themselves, and it is flying in the face of orders." "But why did you not report them openly, instead of the—the other way?" "I did not report them at all. I did not mention it to any one." "Is that true?" asked Dick, dubiously. "Boy! I should never tell you what was not true." Dick stood puzzled. It was Mr. Henry's word against common sense; against the conviction of the whole school. Nothing would come of arguing the matter, even had Mr. Henry been disposed to argue it, and Dick turned to leave, saying something in a complaining tone about having to get to his lessons in play hours. "Do you find them difficult?" asked Mr. Henry. "Difficult?" returned Dick, as if the question were an aggravation. "It's that horrid Euclid. Nothing ever bothers me as that does." "Bring it to me; I daresay I can smooth your mountains for you by a little explanation." "Do you mean it?" cried Dick, a spring of gratitude in his voice. "But it is not in your work. You have nothing to do with Euclid." "Never mind that. Fetch it now." Dick flew for his books. Mr. Henry did smooth the mountains, patiently, kindly; and he bade him always come to him in the same stumbling-blocks—every evening if he liked. Mrs. Butter made her appearance once, which Dick regarded as an agreeable interlude, for it enabled him to ask affectionately after the shorn cock and the other animals, to the lady's great wrath. She had a pair of new boots in her hand for Mr. Henry; the man, she said, was waiting for the money. Mr. Henry replied that it was not convenient to pay him then; he would send it in a day or two. Dick, his Euclid difficulty over, went home; and in giving an account to his friends of various matters, mentioned this episode of the new boots and the nonpayment—not in ill-nature, but in his propensity to gossip. Trace was contemptuous over it. "I'll lay a guinea the fellow has not a shilling in the world!" "But look here!" cried Dick. "I don't really think it was he that told about the smoke. He says he didn't: he's as earnest as he can be." "That's all your opinion's good for," returned Trace. And the rest gave a slighting laugh at Dick. Dick took his revenge in a most impudent whistle. The boys were subsequently in the hall at their evening lessons. Lamb, who had contrived to do his quickly, was stealing out to pass the intervening half-hour before prayer-time in his bedroom, which was against rules. In passing the mathematical room, he encountered Mr. Long. Glancing around to see that no one else was within hearing, Mr. Long accosted him in a semi-undertone. "By the way, Lamb—there was no mistake I suppose in regard to that matter you mentioned to me? The seniors _were_ smoking?" "No mistake at all, sir. Five or six cigars were alight, and the room was full of smoke." "They are making a terrible fuss over it—just as though it were not true."