TOM BROWN'S
ing round and facing the master, said, "I haven't learned any more, sir; our lesson is only forty lines."
"Is that so?" said the master, appealing generally to the top bench. No answer.
"Who is the head boy of the form?" said he, waxing wroth.
"Arthur, sir," answered three or four boys, indicating our friend.
"Oh, your name's Arthur. Well, now, what is the length of your regular lesson?"
Arthur hesitated a moment, and then said, "We call it only forty lines, sir."
"How do you mean, you call it?"
"Well, sir, Mr. Graham says we ain't to stop there when there's time to construe more."
"I understand," said the master. "Williams, go down three more places, and write me out the lesson in Greek and English. And now, Arthur, finish construing."
"Oh! would I be in Arthur's shoes after fourth lesson?" said the little boys to one another; but Arthur finished Helen's speech without any further catastrophe, and the clock struck four, which ended third lesson.
Another hour was occupied in preparing and saying fourth lesson, during which Williams was bottling up his wrath; and when five struck, and the lessons for the day were over, he prepared to take summary vengeance on the innocent cause of his misfortune.
Tom was detained in school a few minutes after the rest, and, on coming out into the quadrangle, the first thing he saw was a small ring of boys applauding Williams, who was holding Arthur by the collar.
"There, you young sneak," said he, giving Arthur a cuff on the head with his other hand, "what made you say that—"
"Hullo!" said Tom, shouldering into the crowd; "you drop that, Williams; you sha'n't touch him."
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