Mr. Burrows, catching a glimpse of his face, said to one of the other teachers, "That boy grows sullen; with all the rest, his good-nature was the only good thing which he had about him, and he is losing that." Tip heard him, and felt that it was true. He had been punished many a time before, and taken it with the most provoking good humour. But to-day it was different; to-day, for the first time in his life, he had received a punishment which he did not deserve; this day of all others, in which he had tried with all his heart to do right! "Why didn't you hold on, you simpleton?" Bob asked. "Never saw you get up so much pluck in my life. What made you back out, and be whipped like a baby?" "Why didn't _you_ own that you threw that plaguy paper ball, and not sit there like a coward, and see me take your whipping?" "_I_ own it! That's a good one! 'Pon honour, Tip, didn't you throw that ball? I thought you did; I was aiming one at Ellis Holbrook's head just then, and I didn't see what was going on behind me. Didn't you throw it--honour bright?" "No, I didn't; and I'll throw _you_ if you say so again." And Tip turned suddenly in the opposite direction, but Satan still walked with him. "It's no use," said this evil spirit, speaking out boldly,--"it's no use; don't you see it isn't? You might as well give it up first as last; the boys, and the teacher, and every one, think you're nothing in the world but a wicked young scamp, and you never _can_ be anything else. You've been humbugging yourself these four weeks, making believe you had a great Friend to help you: why hasn't He helped you to-day? You've tried your best all day long, and He knows you have; yet you never had such a hard day in your life. If He cares anything at all about you, why didn't He help you to-day? You asked Him to." Tip sat down on a log by the side of the road, and gave himself up for a little to Satan's guidance, and the wicked voice went on,-- "Now, you see, you've been cheated. You've tried hard for a whole month to _be_ somebody, and no one thinks any more of you than they did before, and never will. Your mother scolds just as much, and your home looks just as dismal, and Kitty is just as hateful, and the respectable boys in the village have nothing to do with you. You might just as well lounge around and have a good time. Nobody expects you to be good, or will let you, when you want to be." Softly there came another voice knocking at Tip's heart. At first he would not notice it, but it _would_ be heard.