He clenched his small fists again. There she was at it again, humiliating him in front of his friend, publicly reminding him that he was still a child who had to go to school and whose presence was merely tolerated by his elders. This time, however, her intentions were altogether too obvious, and Edgar was satisfied to turn away without replying. "Insulted again," she said, smiling, and then to the baron, "Do you really think it's so bad for him to spend an hour studying once in a while?" To this--something in the child's heart congealed--to this the baron, who called himself his friend and who had made fun of him for being a bookworm, made answer that an hour or two really couldn't do any harm. Was there an agreement between the two? Had they actually allied themselves against him? "My father," said the boy, his eyes flashing anger, "forbade my studying here. He wants me to get my health back here." Edgar hurled this out with all his pride in his illness, clinging desperately to his father's dictum and his father's authority. It came out like a threat, and to his immense astonishment it took effect, seeming actually to have made both of them uncomfortable, his mother especially, for she turned her eyes aside and began to drum on the table nervously with her fingers. For a while there was a painful silence, broken finally by the baron, who said with a forced laugh: "It's just as you say, Eddie. I myself don't have to take examinations any more. I failed in all my examinations long ago." Edgar gave no smile, but looked at the baron with a yearning, searching gaze, as if to probe to the innermost of his being. What was taking place in the baron's soul? Something between him and Edgar had changed, and the child knew not what or why. His eyes wandered unsteadily, in his heart went a little rapid hammer, his first suspicion. CHAPTER VII THE BURNING SECRET