"The boys will be sorry," exclaimed Dick, "and glad too—sorry on their own account, and glad on yours." "I think," said the master, smiling, "we have got on very comfortably together. By the way, I am sorry about your chum Hartland. I had hoped he would do better." "Jim’s had very hard lines lately, sir. Things have all gone wrong, somehow, and he took the result of the ’Gayton’ very much to heart." "So I should imagine," exclaimed the master dryly. "It wasn’t his fault coming out so low down," said Dick. "You can’t sprint very fast with a heavy load on your shoulders, and Jim was carrying too much weight. A lot of his time was taken up at the shop, morning and evening; then his mother fell ill, and he had to work like a nigger keeping things straight at home. Why, for weeks he had hardly a minute to breathe in!" "He did not mention this to me when I spoke to him about his position." "No," responded Dick with a twinkle; "Jim isn’t built that way. He’s too proud to let the world into his little secrets." "Oh!" said the master thoughtfully, "that puts a very different complexion on the case." That same evening Jim’s mother was surprised by a visit from Mr. Laythorne, who, by a few skilful questions, soon discovered that Dick had not overstated the case. It was plain that, despite his folly elsewhere, Jim had behaved splendidly at home; and the class-master’s good opinion of his scholar was more than restored. "What are you going to make of the boy?" he asked. "Well," replied Mrs. Hartland, "had his father lived we should have tried to start him as a pupil-teacher, but I fear he must give up that idea now. Mr. Broad has been very kind, and has offered to take him into the shop altogether." "And what does Jim think of the proposal?" "He doesn’t really like it, but he is a good boy, and raises no objection." Mr. Laythorne was more than ordinarily thoughtful that evening. For more than an hour he sat in his room, thinking deeply, too absorbed even to open one of his favourite books. "It’s a quixotic scheme," he muttered once, "but upon my word I’ve a good mind to try it. The lad has brains, and, properly trained, should do well. He’ll do no good here if his heart isn’t in the work and he may slip back. It would remove him from temptation, too. Well, I’ll sleep on it, and ask Holmore’s advice." The result of these cogitations, and of an interview with the head-master, became apparent at the end of the week, when he once more called at the house in Brook Street; but this time late in the evening, when Jim had returned from work. He was not a man given to much beating about the bush, and he introduced the object of his visit at once. "Hartland," he began quietly, "I understand from your mother that you would like to be a pupil-teacher?" "Yes, sir," answered Jim readily, "but," trying to smile, "that’s out of the question now." "I’m not so sure of that. You know I am going to Portsmouth?"