One evening, during evening work, Charlie was trying hard to do the verses which had been set to his form. He found it very difficult in the noise that was going on. Not half a dozen fellows in the room were working or attempting to work; they were talking, laughing, rattling the desks, playing tricks on each other, and throwing books about the room. The one bewildered new master, who nominally kept order among the two hundred boys in the room, walked up and down in despair, speaking in vain first to one, then to another, and almost giving up the farce of attempting to maintain silence. But seeing Charlie seriously at work he came up and asked if he could give him any assistance. Charlie gratefully thanked him, and the master sat down to try and smooth some of his difficulties. His doing so was the sign for an audible titter, which there was no attempt to suppress; and when he had passed on, Wilton, whose conduct had been more impertinent than that of any one else, said to Charlie-- "I say, young Evson, how you are grinding." "I have these verses to do," said Charlie simply. "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Wilton, as though he had made some good joke. "Here, shall I give you a wrinkle?" "Yes, if it's allowed." The answer was greeted with another laugh, and Wilton said, "I'll save you all further trouble, young 'un. Observe the dodge; we're all up to it." He put up a white handkerchief to his nose, and walking to the master said, "Please, sir, my nose is bleeding. May I go out for a minute?" "Your nose bleeding? That's the third time your nose has bled this week, and other boys have also come with their noses bleeding." "Do you doubt my word, sir?" asked Wilton, his handkerchief still held up, and assuming an injured air. "I should be sorry to do so until you give me reason," answered the master, courteously. "It seems a strange circumstance, but you may go." It would have been very easy to see whether his nose was bleeding or not, but the master was trying, very unsuccessfully at present, whether implicit confidence would produce a sense of honour among the boys. Wilton went out hardly concealing his laughter, and in ten minutes returned with the verses, finished and written out. "There," he said, "Ken did those for me; he knocked them off in five minutes. Ken's an awfully clever fellow, though he never opens a book. Don't bore yourself with verses any more; I'll get them done for you." Charlie glanced at the paper, and saw at once that the verses were perfectly done. "Do you mean to show up that copy as your own, Wilton?" "Of course I do." "But we are marked for them." "Hear! hear! thanks for the information. So much the better. I shall get a jolly good mark." "Shut up, young innocence, and don't be a muff," said another Noelite. "We all do the same thing. Take what heaven sends you and be glad to get it." "Thank you," said Charlie, looking round; "you may, but I'd rather not. It isn't fair."