TOM BROWN'S
"Which don't he wish he may get?" said Tom, laughing; "at any rate, he hasn't got them yet, or he wouldn't have been such a flat to-night as to let Jack Raggles go in out of his turn."
"Ah! the Doctor never would have done that," said Arthur, demurely. "Tom, you've a great deal to learn yet in the art of ruling."
"Well, I wish you'd tell the Doctor so, then, and get him to let me stop till I'm twenty. I don't want to leave, I'm sure."
"What a sight it is," broke in the master—"the Doctor as a ruler. Perhaps ours is the only little corner of the British Empire which is thoroughly, wisely, and strongly ruled just now. I'm more and more thankful every day of my life that I came here to be under him."
"So am I, I'm sure," said Tom; "and more and more sorry that I've got to leave,"
"Every place and thing one sees here reminds one of some wise act of his," went on the master. "This island now—you remember the time, Brown, when it was laid out in small gardens and cultivated by frost-bitten fags in February and March?"
"Of course I do," said Tom; "didn't I hate spending two hours in the afternoons grubbing in the tough dirt with the stump of a fives'-bat ? But turf-cart was good fun enough."
"I dare say it was, but it was always leading to fights with the townspeople; and then the stealing flowers out of all the gardens in Rugby for the Easter show was abominable."
"Well, so it was," said Tom, looking down, "but we fags couldn't help ourselves. But what has that to do with the Doctor's ruling?"
"A great deal, I think," said the master; "what brought island fagging to an end?"
"Why, the Easter speeches were put off till midsummer," said Tom, "and the sixth had the gymnastic poles put up here."
"Well, and who changed the time of the speeches and put the
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