Fisher minor, to whom the question was addressed, did not know, and remarked that they didn't teach Latin here the same way as when he learned from a governess at home. He regretted this admission almost as soon as he had made it. For Wally and D'Arcy immediately got paper and began to draw fancy portraits of Fisher minor learning Latin under the old _regime_. The point of these illustrations was not so much in the figures as in the conversation. The figures were more or less unlike the originals; at least, Fisher minor declared that the three isosceles triangles piled by Wally one on the top of the other were not a bit like his governess; while the plum- pudding on two sticks, with a little pudding above for a head which emitted four huge tears, the size of an orange, from either eye, he regarded as a simple libel on himself. In one sense the likenesses were speaking--that is, a gibbous balloon proceeded from the mouth of each figure, wherein the following dialogue was indicated. "_Governess_.--`Naughty little Tommy-wommy, didn't know his Latin. Tommy must have a smack when he goes bye-bye.' _Tommy_.--`Booh, hoo, how bow, yow, wow, oh my! I'll tell my ma!'" "Bring up that paper, Wheatfield," said Mr Stratton. Wally made a wild grab at Ashby's exercise, and was proceeding to take it up when the master stopped him. "Not that; the other, Wheatfield. Bring it immediately." Whereupon Wally with shame had to rejoice Ashby's heart by restoring his _exercise_, and take up in its place the fancy portrait. Mr Stratton gazed attentively and critically at this work of art. "Not at all well done, Wheatfield," said he. "Sit down at my table here and draw me thirty copies of it before you leave this room. Next boy, go on." Wally confessed, in later life, that of all the impositions he had had in the course of his chequered career, none had been more abominable and wearisome than this. Oh, how he got to detest that governess and her ward, and how sickening their talk became before the task was half over! He sat in that room nearly three hours by the clock, groaning over this task, and when at last he went in search of Mr Stratton with the original and thirty copies in his hand, he felt as limp and flabby, bodily and mentally, as he had ever done in his life. Mr Stratton, who was having tea in his own room, examined each picture in turn, and rejected two as not fair copies of the original. "Do these two again--here," said he. Wally meekly obeyed. He had not a kick left in him. "That's better," said the young master when they were done. "Now sit down and have some tea." It was a solemn meal. Mr Stratton went quietly on with his meal, looking up now and then to see that his guest was supplied with bread and butter and cake and biscuits. Wally was equally silent. He felt sore against the master, but he liked his cake--and the tea was "tip- top."