Poor Holt had cause to rue this morning, for long after. He was weary of the sound of hissing, and of the name "tell-tale;" and the very boys who had prompted him to go up were at first silent, and then joined against him. He complained to Hugh of the difficulty of knowing what it was right to do. He had been angry on Hugh's account chiefly; and he still thought it _was_ very unjust to hinder their lessons, when they wished not to be idle: and yet they were all treating him as if he had done something worse than the boys with the mask. Hugh thought all this was true: but he believed it was settled among schoolboys (though Holt had never had the opportunity of knowing it) that it was a braver thing for boys to bear any teasing from one another than to call in the power of the master to help. A boy who did that was supposed not to be able to take care of himself; and for this he was despised, besides being disliked, for having brought punishment upon his companions. Holt wished Hugh had not been throwing sponges at the time:--he wished Hugh had prevented his going up. He would take good care how he told tales again. "You had better say so," advised Hugh; "and then they will see that you had never been at school, and did not know how to manage." The first Saturday had been partly dreaded, and partly longed for, by Hugh. He had longed for the afternoon's ramble; but Saturday morning was the time for saying tables, among other things. Nothing happened as he had expected. The afternoon was so rainy that there was no going out; and, as for the tables, he was in a class of five; and "four times seven" did not come to him in regular course. Eight times seven did, and he said "fifty-six" with great satisfaction, Mr Carnaby asked him afterwards the dreaded question, but he was on his guard; and as he answered it right, and the usher had not found out the joke, he hoped he should hear no more of the matter. The next Saturday was fine, and at last he was to have the walk he longed for. The weekly repetitions were over, dinner was done, Mr Carnaby appeared with his hat on, the whole throng burst into the open air, and out of bounds, and the new boys were wild with expectation and delight. When they had passed the churchyard and the green, and were wading through the sandy road which led up to the heath, Firth saw Hugh running and leaping hither and thither, not knowing what to do with his spirits. Firth called him, and putting his arm round Hugh's neck, so as to keep him prisoner, said he did not know how he might want his strength before he got home, and he had better not spend it on a bit of sandy road. So Hugh was made to walk quietly, and gained his breath before the breezy heath was reached.