At length Tracy was put on. He stood up in his usual self-satisfied way, looking admiringly at his boots, and running his delicate white hand through his scented hair. Mr Paton watched him with a somewhat contemptuous expression, as though he were thinking what a pity it was that any boy should be such a little puppy. Henderson, with his usual quick discrimination, had nicknamed Tracy the "Lisping Hawthornbud." "Your fifth failure this week, Tracy; you must do the usual punishment," said Mr Paton, taking up his key to unlock the desk. "Now for it," thought all the form, looking on with great anxiety. The key caught hopelessly in the broken lock. Mr Paton's attention was aroused; he pushed the lid off the desk, and saw at once that it had been broken open. "Who has broken open my desk?" No answer. He looked very grave, but said nothing, looking for his imposition-book. "Where is my imposition-book?" No answer. "And where is my--?" Mr Paton stopped, and looked with the greatest eagerness over every corner of the desk. "Where is the manuscript I left here with my imposition-book?" he said in a tone of the most painful anxiety. "I do hope and trust," he said, turning pale, "that none of you have been wicked enough to injure it," and here his voice faltered. "When I tell you that it was of the utmost value, I am sure that if any of you have concealed or taken it, you will give it back at once." There was deep silence. "Once again," he asked, "where is my imposition-book?" "Burnt, sir; burnt, sir," said one or two voices, hardly above a whisper. "And my manuscript?" he asked, in a louder voice, and in still greater agitation. "Surely, surely, you cannot have been so thoughtless, so incredibly unjust as to--" Walter stood up in his place, with his head bent, and his face covered with an ashy whiteness. "I burnt it, sir," he said, in an almost inaudible voice, and trembling with fear. "Come here," said Mr Paton impetuously; "I can't hear what you say. Now, then," he continued, as Walter crept up beside his desk. "I burnt it, sir," he said, in a whisper. "You--burnt--it!" said Mr Paton, starting up in uncontrollable emotion, which changed into a burst of anger as he gave Walter a box on the ear which sounded all over the room, and made the boy stagger back to his place. But the flash of rage was gone in an instant; and the next moment Mr Paton, afraid of trusting himself any longer, left his desk and hurried out, anxious to recover in solitude the calmness of mind and action which had been so terribly disturbed. Mr Percival, who taught his form in another part of the room, seeing Mr Paton box Walter so violently on the ear, and knowing that this was the very reverse of his usual method, since he had never before touched a boy in anger, walked up to see what was the matter, just as Mr Paton, with great hurried strides, had reached the door. "What is the matter with Mr Paton?" he asked.