He was staring at her so intently that he seemed hardly to comprehend her words. The chord in him that had been struck hurt curiously, like a muscle long unused. When at last his eyes fell to the sopping bundle at his feet he just shrugged his shoulders and muttered: "Oh, _they_ don't matter. I'll leave them." Then, recollecting that he had not yet given her any greeting, he made some conventional remark about the weather. Then she made another conventional remark about the weather. Then he said, curiously: "We don't see so much of each other nowadays, do we?" To which she replied: "No. I wonder why? Are they overworking you?" "Not that," he answered. "Then I won't guess any other reasons." He said jokingly: "I shall come down to the town and give you another of those surprise visits one of these evenings." The crowd were returning from watching the putting of the weight. She made to leave him, saying as she did so: "_Yes_, do. You like a talk, don't you?" "Rather!" he exclaimed, almost boyishly, as she went away. _Almost boyishly_! Even a moment of her made a difference in him. III That evening, for the first time in his life, he was "ragged." He was taking preparation in the Big Hall. As soon as the School began to enter he could see that some mischief was on foot. Nor was it long in beginning to show itself. Hardly had the last-corner taken his seat when a significant rustle of laughter at the rear of the Hall warned him that danger was near. He left his seat on the rostrum and plunged down the aisle to the place whence the laughter had come. More laughter.... He saw something scamper swiftly across the floor, amidst exclamations of feigned alarm. Someone had let loose a mouse. He was furious with anger. Nothing angered him more than any breach of discipline, and this breach of discipline was obviously an insult to him personally. They had never "ragged" him before; they were "ragging" him now because they disliked him. He saw the faces of all around him grinning maliciously. "Anyone who laughs has a hundred lines." A sharp brave laugh from somewhere--insolently defiant. "Who was it that laughed then?" No answer. Then, amidst the silence, another laugh, a comic, lugubriously pitched laugh that echoed weirdly up to the vaulted roof. He was white now--quite white with passion. "Was that you, Slingsby?" A smart spot! It _was_ Slingsby, and Slingsby, recognising the rules of civilised warfare even against Speed, replied, rather sheepishly: "Yes, sir." "A thousand lines and detention for a week!" The school gasped a little, for the punishment was sufficiently enormous. Evidently Speed was not to be trifled with. There followed a strained silence for over ten minutes, and at last Speed went back to his official desk feeling that the worst was over and that he had successfully quelled the rebellion. Then, quite suddenly, the whole building was plunged into darkness.