It really seemed as if fate was dead against Jim Hartland’s winning the Gayton Scholarship For some time his mother, though saying nothing to the children, had not felt well. The shock of her husband’s death, and the consequent change in circumstances, had done much to depress her, and the hard struggle to earn a scanty living had made her worse. She had done her best to keep up as long as possible; but on the Monday morning she was too ill even to get Jim’s breakfast. "Never mind, mother," said he cheerfully; "you stay in bed. I’ll see to things. The lessons must go for a bit." Being a handy sort of fellow, he made breakfast, carried some up to his mother and Susie, straightened things a bit downstairs, and then ran off to his work. There still remained three weeks till the day of the examination; but, unfortunately for Jim, his mother’s illness lasted two-thirds of that time. Mrs. Boden went in as often as she could, and a kindly neighbour did several odd jobs; but there were so many things to be done that Jim found all his time occupied. "I should chuck the ’Gayton’ if I were you," said the Angel one morning. "It will be no good to you if you win it, and with all these upsets you can’t expect to be at your best." "The fellows would think I was afraid of being beaten." "What’s the odds? Who cares what they think? There’s no sense in working yourself half to death for nothing." "Not a bit; but I’m going in all the same." "Well, you are a stubborn beggar, and no mistake," said his chum, who usually spoke his mind. The examination was to be held in one of the rooms at the Gayton School, and on the Monday morning the candidates assembled in the big playground. Jim, who had been granted leave for the day by Mr. Broad, went down with Dick and Tom Moon, who was one of the Magpies. He was feeling wretchedly ill; his head ached, and his brains were all at sixes and sevens. He had worked like a horse all the week to make up for lost time, and was paying the penalty. He had lost all sense of proportion, and it seemed to him that life would be worth nothing if he failed to win this scholarship. "Hullo!" cried Dick suddenly; "there’s Dandy Braithwaite!—Morning, Dandy! Why, you look as pleased as if you’d won the scholarship already!" "I’m going to have a good shot at it, anyhow." "Bravo, my boy!—Hullo, Temple! You here?" "Why not?" asked Temple in surprise. "I thought you’d more sense, ’pon my word! Now what is the use of you fellows wasting your time when there are three of the Deaneryites in the running?" The boys who knew the Angel’s little ways greeted his remark with good-humoured laughter; the others thought he was a conceited donkey, and some said as much. "Much plague in India just now, Dicky?" asked Temple mischievously. "Wait till I’ve seen the geography questions." "What’s the joke?" asked Tom Moon. "Haven’t you heard of the Angel’s little dodge? Why, they fairly screamed over it at the Deanery."