It was here, in a deep, shadowed cleft between tall cypresses, that they found the expelled little boy. He was lying face downward on the mossy turf, and the peculiar shaking of his shoulders was a thing they had seen, more than once, in each other. So Anthea kneeled down by him and said— “What’s the matter?” “I’m expelled from school,” said the boy between his sobs. This was serious. People are not expelled for light offences. “Do you mind telling us what you’d done?” “I—I tore up a sheet of paper and threw it about in the playground,” said the child, in the tone of one confessing an unutterable baseness. “You won’t talk to me any more now you know that,” he added without looking up. “Was that all?” asked Anthea. “It’s about enough,” said the child; “and I’m expelled for the whole day!” “I don’t quite understand,” said Anthea, gently. The boy lifted his face, rolled over, and sat up. “Why, whoever on earth are you?” he said. “We’re strangers from a far country,” said Anthea. “In our country it’s not a crime to leave a bit of paper about.” “It is here,” said the child. “If grown-ups do it they’re fined. When we do it we’re expelled for the whole day.” “Well, but,” said Robert, “that just means a day’s holiday.” “You _must_ come from a long way off,” said the little boy. “A holiday’s when you all have play and treats and jolliness, all of you together. On your expelled days no one’ll speak to you. Everyone sees you’re an Expelleder or you’d be in school.” “Suppose you were ill?” “Nobody is—hardly. If they are, of course they wear the badge, and everyone is kind to you. I know a boy that stole his sister’s illness badge and wore it when he was expelled for a day. _He_ got expelled for a week for that. It must be awful not to go to school for a week.” “Do you _like_ school, then?” asked Robert incredulously. “Of course I do. It’s the loveliest place there is. I chose railways for my special subject this year, there are such splendid models and things, and now I shall be all behind because of that torn-up paper.” “You choose your own subject?” asked Cyril. “Yes, of course. Where _did_ you come from? Don’t you know _anything?_” “No,” said Jane definitely; “so you’d better tell us.” “Well, on Midsummer Day school breaks up and everything’s decorated with flowers, and you choose your special subject for next year. Of course you have to stick to it for a year at least. Then there are all your other subjects, of course, reading, and painting, and the rules of Citizenship.” “Good gracious!” said Anthea. “Look here,” said the child, jumping up, “it’s nearly four. The expelledness only lasts till then. Come home with me. Mother will tell you all about everything.” “Will your mother like you taking home strange children?” asked Anthea. “I don’t understand,” said the child, settling his leather belt over his honey-coloured smock and stepping out with hard little bare feet. “Come on.” So they went.