Dr. Orville, the founder of the college, had bestowed on it an exhibition at his death. It fell in at the end of every third year; and for three years gave seventy pounds a year to the boy who got it. It was open for competition to all unconditionally, no matter whether they were seniors or not; though of course none but seniors were sufficiently advanced to try for it; and the name of each competitor must lie on the books, _as_ competitor, for one year previous to the trial. The boys called it familiarly the Orville Prize; in short, the Orville. The names had been just put down, several, for the probationary twelvemonth was on the eve of being entered; and, to the unspeakable indignation of the school, George Paradyne's was one. A new boy (leaving other things that some two or three of them knew of out of the question) who had but just come in, to thrust down his name indecently amidst the old pupils! This was said from mouth to mouth; and Trace had a sore battle with himself not to disclose the disgrace of the past. The Head Master came into the hall and called up Talbot. The boy had been at home for a week or two, and only returned that morning. "Are you feeling strong, my lad?" "Quite so, thank you, sir. I have been to the sea-side." "Have you!" returned the Master, some surprise in his tone, for he knew how limited funds were at Talbot's home. "Sir Simon Orville came to see my mother the day after I got home; he insisted that she should take me to the sea-side," said Talbot with a smile, as if he had divined those thoughts. The doctor understood the rest in a moment. "I'm proud of Sir Simon; I'm proud to call him a friend," cried he, warmly. "I am glad you've been." "If you please, sir, I wish my name to be entered for the Orville Exhibition," Talbot stayed to say. "Do you? Very well. How old are you?" "Close upon seventeen." "All right. I don't care how many of you enter. Only one can gain it; but it will get the rest on in their studies. I'll just make a note of your name in pencil now." He looked for his lead-pencil, and could not see it. Then, remembering that he had missed it the previous day, he put his hand in his pocket for the gold one. But it was not there. "Why, what have I done with it?" cried the doctor, searching about. "Perhaps I took it into my study and left it there. Very careless of me! Go and see, Talbot: it will be on the table in the large inkstand." Talbot went and came back without it. "It's not there, sir. This is the only one I could see," handing an old silver one.