“My boys,” he said, “obedience to my orders is not only a duty to me, but to yourselves—you are not old enough to know at all times what is really good for you. Nor is it proper at all times that I should give you reasons for my conduct. It ought to be enough, that when I lay down a rule you should have good faith in my intentions, and you ought to be well aware that I would in no way restrict your enjoyments but for some good reason. By your conduct you have not only disobeyed my commands, but you have probably inflicted a very serious wound in the breast of one who is a stranger in this place, deserves all the rights of hospitality, and of Christian charity. Our new neighbour here, Sir Thomas Alton, is a Roman Catholic; his gardens adjoin ours. As a school, our doings must be a sufficient nuisance to him. He only came amongst us last Michaelmas, and yet he gave you peaches by the hat-full, and nectarines by scores. He is a Roman Catholic, as I said before, and it was not for us to poke a ‘Guy Faux’ or a ‘bonfire’ under his nose—we should not have liked it ourselves—and there is nothing like the religion that teaches us to do as we would be done by. The first duty we owe to a neighbour is to be charitable to his opinions; if they are not the same as ours, that is the very reason why we should act the more forbearingly and lovingly towards him. But, by your conduct, you have thwarted all my good intentions, defeated my charity, and spoiled my love.” “If we had known this,” said Nelson, “we would not have touched a billet or a faggot for the world.” “Would that I had informed you of it,” replied the Master; “and from the circumstance I may also learn a lesson: That it is wiser to teach by appeals to reason and to conscience, than to expect much from a blind obedience. Boys are, indeed, but men of a smaller growth. Yet still, if you love me, and have faith in me, you will obey me without asking the reason.” “We will do anything,” said Nelson, “to show our love to Sir Thomas.” “You can do nothing, Sir,” replied the Master. “You will probably have inflicted a wound which I shall find some difficulty in healing.” “Not in the least, my dear Sir,” said a voice, in an Irish accent, from the door, which stood partly open. “By my faith, I think the boys are all heroes; and if they want a Guy, if they will come up to the Hall, I will be a Guy myself, and we will have a good fire, and roasted apples, and roasted chesnuts, and sure we will _roast_ one another; which is a vast deal better than so much _basting_. So come along my lads, and take me for your Guy Faux.” Three cheers simultaneously burst forth at this speech. The Doctor was overcome with agreeable emotion. Nelson ran to kiss the hand of Sir Thomas; and after mutual congratulations, the boys had a cheerful breakfast, and made the merriest day at the Hall that they ever before enjoyed, by the most grotesque Guy on the most splendid bonfire. [Illustration]