inattentive. You seem to take no interest in your work. It's been slovenly and bad."
"I'm very sorry, sir," said Philip.
"Is that all you have to say for yourself?"
Philip looked down sulkily. How could he answer that he was bored to death?
"You know, this term you'll go down instead of up. I shan't give you a very good report."
Philip wondered what he would say if he knew how the report was treated. It arrived at breakfast, Mr. Carey glanced at it indifferently, and passed it over to Philip.
"There's your report. You'd better see what it says," he remarked, as he ran his fingers through the wrapper of a catalogue of second-hand books.
Philip read it.
"Is it good?" asked Aunt Louisa.
"Not so good as I deserve," answered Philip, with a smile, giving it to her.
"I'll read it afterwards when I've got my spectacles," she said.
But after breakfast Mary Ann came in to say the butcher was there, and she generally forgot.
Mr. Perkins went on.
"I'm disappointed with you. And I can't understand. I know you can do things if you want to, but you don't seem to want to any more. I was going to make you a monitor next term, but I think I'd better wait a bit."
Philip flushed. He did not like the thought of being passed over. He tightened his lips.
"And there's something else. You must begin thinking of your scholarship now. You won't get anything unless you start working very seriously."
Philip was irritated by the lecture. He was angry with the headmaster, and angry with himself.
"I don't think I'm going up to Oxford," he said.
"Why not ? I thought your idea was to be ordained."
"I've changed my mind."
"Why?"
Philip did not answer. Mr. Perkins, holding himself oddly as he always did, like a figure in one of Perugino's pictures, drew his fingers thoughtfully through his beard. He looked at Philip as though he were trying to understand and then abruptly told him he might go.
Apparently he was not satisfied, for one evening, a week later,
