refore, that Jackson
entered the study.

"Come in, Mike," said his father, kicking the waste-paper basket; "I
want to speak to you."

Mike, skilled in omens, scented a row in the offing. Only in moments of
emotion was Mr. Jackson in the habit of booting the basket.

There followed an awkward silence, which Mike broke by remarking that he
had carted a half volley from Saunders over the on-side hedge
that morning.

"It was just a bit short and off the leg stump, so I stepped out--may I
bag the paper knife for a jiffy? I'll just show--"

"Never mind about cricket now," said Mr. Jackson; "I want you to listen
to this report."

"Oh, is that my report, Father?" said Mike, with a sort of sickly
interest, much as a dog about to be washed might evince in his tub.

"It is," replied Mr. Jackson in measured tones, "your report; what is
more, it is without exception the worst report you have ever had."

"Oh, I say!" groaned the record-breaker.

"'His conduct,'" quoted Mr. Jackson, "'has been unsatisfactory in the
extreme, both in and out of school.'"

"It wasn't anything really. I only happened--"

Remembering suddenly that what he had happened to do was to drop a
cannonball (the school weight) on the form-room floor, not once, but on
several occasions, he paused.

"'French bad; conduct disgraceful--'"

"Everybody rags in French."

"'Mathematics bad. Inattentive and idle.'"

"Nobody does much work in Math."

"'Latin poor. Greek, very poor.'"

"We were doing Thucydides, Book Two, last term--all speeches and
doubtful readings, and cruxes and things--beastly hard! Everybody
says so."

"Here are Mr. Appleby's remarks: 'The boy has genuine ability, which he
declines to use in the smallest degree.'"

Mike moaned a moan of righteous indignation.

"'An abnormal proficiency at games has apparently destroyed all desire
in him to realize the more serious issues of life.' There is more to the
same effect."

Mr. Appleby was a master with very definite ideas as to what constituted
a public-school master's duties. As a man he was distinctly pro-Mike. He
understood cricket, and some of Mike's strokes on the off gave him
thrills of pure aesthetic joy; but as a master he always made it his
habit to regard the manners and customs of the boys in his form with an
unbiased eye, and to an unbiased eye Mike in a form room was about as
near the extreme edge as a boy could be, and Mr. Appleby said as much in
a clear firm hand.