h equal alacrity, though it cannot be said that their
performances there were equally creditable. Some were quick and
intelligent, others were slow and stupid, while a few were slow but by
no means stupid. Charlie Christian was among these last.

"Oh, Charlie, you _are_ such a booby!" one day exclaimed Otaheitan
Sally, who, being advanced to the dignity of monitor, devoted much of
her time to the instruction of her old favourite. "What _can_ be the
matter with your brains?"

The innocent gaze of blank wonder with which the "Challie" of infancy
had been wont to receive his companion's laughing questions, had not
quite departed; but it was chastened by this time with a slight
puckering of the mouth and a faint twinkle of the eyes that were
suggestive.

Sitting modestly on the low bench, with his hands clasped before him,
this strapping pupil looked at his teacher, and said that really he did
not know what was wrong with his brains.

"Perhaps," he added, looking thoughtfully into the girl's upturned orbs,
"perhaps I haven't got any brains at all."

"O yes, you have," cried Sall, with a laugh; "you have got plenty, if
you'd only use them."

"Ah!" sighed Charlie, stretching out one of his strong muscular arms and
hands, "if brains were only things that one could lay hold of like an
oar, or an axe, or a sledge-hammer, I'd soon let you see me use them;
but bein' only a soft kind o' stuff in one's skull, you know--"

A burst of laughter from Sally not only cut short the sentence, but
stopped the general hum of the school, and drew the attention of the
master.

"Hallo, Sall, I say, you know," said Adams, in remonstrative tone, "you
forget that you're a monitor. If you go on like that we'll have to make
a school-girl of you again."

"Please, father, I couldn't help it," said Sally, while her cheeks
flushed crimson, "Charlie is such a--"

She stopped short, covered her face with both hands, and bending forward
till she hid her confusion on her knees, went into an uncontrollable
giggle, the only evidences of which, however, were the convulsive
movements of her shoulders and an occasional squeak in the region of her
little nose.

"Come now, child'n," cried Adams, seating himself on an inverted
tea-box, which formed his official chair, "time's up, so we'll have a
slap at Carteret before dismissing. Thursday October Christian will
bring the book."

There was a general hum of satisfaction when this was said, for
C