"Bubbly, don't open old wounds," advised mother; "our Tommy is come home, and I am deeply thankful for it. How could they help getting rid of him, when they never could have taught him half he knows? They knew that he had served his time with their master, the great Professor Megalow; and how could they open their mouths before him? And how could they hold up their heads before Tommy, when they thought of the pit he led them into?" "Aha, I see! That's it," cried father; "well, I musn't be angry with them after all. One good turn deserves another. And talking of that, we shall have no pits left, if what I was told to-day is true. The Vestry are going to send a man and two boys, all up through our valley, in the course of next month, with sticks and a line, to take measurements, and all the rest of it, for this drainage scheme. Well, it won't hurt us; but I doubt very greatly whether the smell they are sure to make will be wholesome for my workmen. I must try to leave more of my stuff about, to keep the air fresh and the bad smells away. Sophy, I must be off; you might give me a nip of Hollands, before I light my pipe. And while I am at work, you and Tommy can put your heads together, concerning the next thing to be done with a young scamp, who has been expelled from school." CHAPTER XVII. SELF-DEFENCE. It appeared to me now, that my education might fairly be entrusted to myself, at least until after Christmas-time; but whether it was, that my dear parents were eager to push me on with learning, or else that they had enjoyed enough of my company for the present, the issue was settled against me, and without another week of holidays. Jack Windsor was in the same box with me; and his mother and mine laid their heads together, and came to the conclusion that Dr. Rumbelow had acted very badly. With the aid of a noble "manual of epistolary correspondence," they indited a joint letter to the new bishop, which must have grieved his upright soul. He answered right humbly, and in few words, that he grieved as deeply as they could do, at the utter subversion of a wholesome school; which would not have happened, if he could have helped it. But he had never been the owner, and only acted under the will of Trustees, who had not consulted him, when he left. Feeling the deepest interest in his beloved pupils of many happy years, he watched the result with sad apprehension, but could not interfere with it. But for any, whose parents desired their removal from the influence of wild doctrines, he could with high confidence recommend an orthodox, and most efficient teacher, an old pupil of his own at Oxford, an accurate scholar, and most active man, now doing excellent work in the Church. This was the Reverend St. Simon Cope, curate of St. Athanasius, a District church in Kentish Town.