As a matter of fact Carle's classroom work was falling off. He was not perhaps conscious of the change, and some of his teachers had likewise failed to perceive the trend. When a boy trots his translations, he may, if he is quick and observant in the recitation room, deceive his instructors for a very considerable time. A good teacher necessarily repeats questions and reemphasizes principles, and Carle was bright enough to take full advantage of opportunities afforded by the recitations. But all the time, as his outside interests increased, and the circle of intimates with whom he idled grew, his study became more superficial. The translation book was no longer reserved for special emergency; it lay open on his desk from the first line of the lesson to the last. His newly developed method in mathematics was to gather all possible solutions from his acquaintances before trying any problems himself. He was growing distinctly clever in the art of cribbing. Still he seemed to be doing fair work, for such a process is one of gradual and secret undermining rather than of open destruction. One does not perceive the extent to which the foundations are injured until the crash comes. "What is the matter with Carle?" asked Mr. Rice, the young teacher of history, at a faculty meeting in February. "Isn't he falling off in his work?" Mr. Moore turned on him an indulgent smile. "I haven't noticed it," he said, "and I have him five times a week." As the young instructor had Carle's section but two hours weekly, this answer appeared to the questioner equivalent to a rebuke; so, taking Kipling's advice to the cub, he thought, and was still. The result of his thinking was first that Mr. Moore, being faculty member of the Omicron, must know Carle's habits of work much better than he himself did; and, secondly, that he was but a tyro at the business, with much to learn, both as to boys and the ways of the school. He did not see that the Principal made a note of his question, or that Lovering, one of the Latin men, and Pope, a middle-aged confrère who had sections in mathematics, exchanged a few words in low tones. Otherwise, he might have felt less chagrin over his apparent error. CHAPTER VIII THE FIRST PLAGUE The inhabitants of the east entry of Hale were enjoying a season of unusual quiet. Duncan Peck, because of unacceptable work, lay under the ban of study hours,--a fact which damped the ardor of both the brothers. Clarence Moon had apparently learned wisdom from experience, for he had much less to say about the exalted state in which he lived at home, and in general bore himself with more becoming modesty. Lindsay and Owen and their room-mates had other ambitions than to be disturbers of the peace, and Payner lived solitary and secure in his fortress. There remained but the conscientious Smith and Crossett the absentee, neither of whom was likely to spend time in fomenting discord in the dormitory.