"Go back, Bunce," cried the master. "Pillett, stand out. Now here, sir, is a lad whom I am sure you will like. Writes a hand like copperplate. Age thirteen, and very intelligent." Pillett came forward eagerly, after darting a triumphant look at Coggley and Bunce. He was a wooden-faced boy, who seemed to have hard brains and a soft head, for his forehead looked nubbly, and there were rounded off corners at the sides. "Let Dr Grayson hear you say--" "No, no, Hippetts; this is not an examination," cried the doctor testily. "That is not the sort of boy I want. He must be a bright, intelligent lad, whom I can adopt and take into my house. I shall treat him exactly as if he were my own son, and if he is a good lad, it will be the making of him." "Oh! I see, sir," said Mr Hippetts importantly. "Go back, Pillett. I have the very boy. Gloog!" Pillett went back, and furtively held up his fist at triumphant Gloog, who came out panting as if he had just been running fast, and as soon as he had made the regulation bow, he, from old force of habit, wiped his nose on his cuff. "No, no, no, no," cried the doctor, without giving the lad a second glance, the first at his low, narrow forehead and cunning cast of features being quite enough. "But this is an admirably behaved boy, sir," protested Mr Hippetts. "Mr Sibery here can speak very highly of his qualifications." "Oh yes, sir," put in the schoolmaster with a severe smile and a distant bow, for he felt annoyed at not being consulted. "Yes, yes," said the doctor; "but not my style of boy." "Might I suggest one, sir!" said Mr Sibery deferentially, as he glanced at the king who reigned over the whole building. "To be sure," said the doctor. "You try." Mr Hippetts frowned, and Mr Sibery wished he had not spoken; but the dark look on the master's brow gave place to an air of triumph as the schoolmaster introduced seven boys, one after the other, to all of whom the visitor gave a decided negative. "Seems a strange thing," he said, "that out of three hundred boys you cannot show one I like." "But all these are excellent lads, sir," said the master deprecatingly. "Humph!" "Best of characters." "Humph!" "Our own training, sir. Mr Sibery has spared no pains, and I have watched over the boys' morals." "Yes, I dare say. Of course. Here, what boy's that?" He pointed with his cane to a pair of round blue eyes, quite at the back. "That, sir--that lame boy!" "No, no; that young quicksilver customer with the curly poll." "Oh! that, sir! He wouldn't do," cried the two masters almost in a breath. "How do you know!" said the doctor tartly. "Very bad boy indeed, sir, I'm sorry to say," said the schoolmaster. "Yes, sir; regular young imp; so full of mischief that he corrupts the other boys. Can't say a word in his favour; and, besides, he's too young." "How old?" "About eleven, sir." "Humph! Trot him out." "Obed Coleby," said the master in a severe voice. "Coleby, eh?"