Only the Angel! Had His Majesty’s Inspector been a Deanery boy he would not have required any further information. As it was, the look of surprise in his face deepened. Now Dick, with all his faults, was a little gentleman. His face was white and his voice husky, but, standing cap in hand, he said bravely, "I am very sorry, sir. We were racing, and Jim Hartland had almost caught me, so I put on a last sprint, and—" "And won?" "Yes, sir," answered Dick modestly; "but Jim was close behind." "Yes," observed the gentleman with a grim smile, "I am painfully aware of the fact. However, there is not much harm done. Ask your master to lend me a brush." "Isn’t he a brick?" said one of the boys as they ran to their places. "He didn’t even look angry. Have you hurt your leg, Jim?" "It’s a bit painful—that’s all." "I hope it will be right for the match to-morrow." And then, at sound of the bell, all talking stopped, and the boys marched into the assembly hall. After prayers, the inspector, looking none the worse for his mishap, came into the room and talked with Mr. Holmore, who then proceeded to make a little speech concerning the Gayton Scholarship. "You know," he said, "that only one boy can win it, and there will be candidates from nearly every school in the town. We have three good champions, and whether they obtain the great honour for the Deanery or not, I am sure they will do their best. Come to the desk as I call your names. Richard Boden." There was a hum of pleasure as Dick went up, flushed with joy, yet feeling rather uncomfortable at having to face the inspector a second time that morning. "Percy Braithwaite." A well-dressed, spruce-looking boy, known as Dandy Braithwaite, came forward with alacrity and, to the delight of the school, was followed by James Hartland. "Now, boys," said their master, "I hope your work will show we have made a wise selection. Remember, once your names are given in, we cannot make any alteration." Then turning to the inspector, he added, "These are our candidates, sir." "Ah," exclaimed that gentleman genially, "I have made the acquaintance of two of them, Mr. Holmore, and I can assure you they are tremendous fellows—at a sprint.—Well, my lads, one thing is certain: this scholarship won’t be gained without plenty of hard work. The chosen knights are buckling on their armour in every quarter of the town, and the tournament will be a keen one." Fortunately, school closed at noon for the day, as the boys were too excited to pay much attention to lessons. They were well satisfied with their master’s selection, and many of them at once put down the scholarship as a "good thing" for Jim Hartland. Some thought Braithwaite might get it, others pinned their faith to Dick Boden, "if the little beggar would work;" and when one wretched urchin hinted that the St. Paul’s boys had won a lot of prizes lately, he was promptly "sat on."