after
another, who are called up, stick more and more, and make balder and
ever more bald work of it. The poor young master is pretty near beat by
this time, and feels ready to knock his head against the wall, or his
fingers against somebody else's head. So he gives up altogether the
lower and middle parts of the form, and looks round in despair at the
boys on the top bench, to see if there is one out of whom he can strike
a spark or two, and who will be too chivalrous to murder the most
beautiful utterances of the most beautiful woman of the old world. His
eye rests on Arthur, and he calls him up to finish construing Helen's
speech. Whereupon all the other boys draw long breaths, and begin to
stare about and take it easy. They are all safe: Arthur is the head of
the form, and sure to be able to construe, and that will tide on safely
till the hour strikes.

Arthur proceeds to read out the passage in Greek before construing it,
as the custom is. Tom, who isn't paying much attention, is suddenly
caught by the falter in his voice as he reads the two lines--

[greek text deleted]

He looks up at Arthur. "Why, bless us," thinks he, "what can be the
matter with the young un? He's never going to get floored. He's sure
to have learnt to the end." Next moment he is reassured by the spirited
tone in which Arthur begins construing, and betakes himself to drawing
dogs' heads in his notebook, while the master, evidently enjoying the
change, turns his back on the middle bench and stands before Arthur,
beating a sort of time with his hand and foot, and saying; "Yes, yes,"
"Very well," as Arthur goes on.

But as he nears the fatal two lines, Tom catches that falter, and again
looks up. He sees that there is something the matter; Arthur can hardly
get on at all. What can it be?

Suddenly at this point Arthur breaks down altogether, and fairly bursts
out crying, and dashes the cuff of his jacket across his eyes, blushing
up to the roots of his hair, and feeling as if he should like to go down
suddenly through the floor. The whole form are taken aback; most of them
stare stupidly at him, while those who are gifted with presence of mind
find their places and look steadily at their books, in hopes of not
catching the master's eye and getting called up in Arthur's place.

The master looks puzzled for a moment, and then seeing, as the fact is,
that the boy is really affected to tears by the most touching thing in
Homer, perhaps in all