"It's very hard, sir." "Possibly it is." "If I am to be failed this examination, I might as well go home at once." "That is as you think proper." Bindon's voice softened a little; he perceived he had been unjust, and, provided he did not contradict himself, he was disposed to amelioration. "As a private person," he said, "I think this confession of yours goes far to mitigate your offence. But you have set the machinery in motion, and now it must take its course. I--I am really sorry you gave way." A wave of emotion prevented Hill from answering. Suddenly, very vividly, he saw the heavily-lined face of the old Landport cobbler, his father. "Good God! What a fool I have been!" he said hotly and abruptly. "I hope," said Bindon, "that it will be a lesson to you." But, curiously enough, they were not thinking of quite the same indiscretion. There was a pause. "I would like a day to think, sir, and then I will let you know--about going home, I mean," said Hill, moving towards the door. * * * * * The next day Hill's place was vacant. The spectacled girl in green was, as usual, first with the news. Wedderburn and Miss Haysman were talking of a performance of _The Meistersingers_ when she came up to them. "Have you heard?" she said. "Heard what?" "There was cheating in the examination." "Cheating!" said Wedderburn, with his face suddenly hot. "How?" "That slide--" "Moved? Never!" "It was. That slide that we weren't to move--" "Nonsense!" said Wedderburn. "Why! How could they find out? Who do they say--?" "It was Mr. Hill." _Hill_!" "Mr. Hill!" "Not--surely not the immaculate Hill?" said Wedderburn, recovering. "I don't believe it," said Miss Haysman. "How do you know?" "I _didn't_," said the girl in spectacles. "But I know it now for a fact. Mr. Hill went and confessed to Professor Bindon himself." "By Jove!" said Wedderburn. "Hill of all people. But I am always inclined to distrust these philanthropists-on-principle--" "Are you quite sure?" said Miss Haysman, with a catch in her breath. "Quite. It's dreadful, isn't it? But, you know, what can you expect? His father is a cobbler." Then Miss Haysman astonished the girl in spectacles. "I don't care. I will not believe it," she said, flushing darkly under her warm-tinted skin. "I will not believe it until he has told me so himself-- face to face. I would scarcely believe it then," and abruptly she turned her back on the girl in spectacles, and walked to her own place. "It's true, all the same," said the girl in spectacles, peering and smiling at Wedderburn. But Wedderburn did not answer her. She was indeed one of those people who seemed destined to make unanswered remarks. XIX. THE CRYSTAL EGG.