bytery.

"And to have carried the Hugh Blackadder seven times running is surely
enough for any one locality, even though it be Glenquharity," said Mr.
Lorrimer, preparing for defeat.

"There's consolation for you, sir," said Mr. Cathro, sarcastically, to
his rival, who tried to take snuff in sheer bravado, but let it slip
through his fingers, and after that, until the two hours were up, the
talk was chiefly of how Tommy would get on at Aberdeen. But it was
confined to the four ministers and one dominie. Mr. Ogilvy still hovered
about the door of communication, and his face fell more and more, making
Mr. Dishart quite unhappy.

"I'm an old fool," the Dominie admitted, "but I can't help being cast
down. The fact is that--I have only heard the scrape of one pen for
nearly an hour."

"Poor Lauchlan!" exclaimed Mr. Cathro, rubbing his hands gleefully, and
indeed it was such a shameless exhibition that the Auld Licht minister
said reproachfully, "You forget yourself, Mr. Cathro, let us not be
unseemly exalted in the hour of our triumph."

Then Mr. Cathro sat upon his hands as the best way of keeping them
apart, but the moment Mr. Dishart's back presented itself, he winked at
Mr. Ogilvy. He winked a good deal more presently. For after all--how to
tell it! Tommy was ignominiously beaten, making such a beggarly show
that the judges thought it unnecessary to take the essays home with them
for leisurely consideration before pronouncing Mr. Lauchlan McLauchlan
winner. There was quite a commotion in the school-room. At the end of
the allotted time the two competitors had been told to hand in their
essays, and how Mr. McLauchlan was sniggering is not worth recording, so
dumfounded, confused, and raging was Tommy. He clung to his papers,
crying fiercely that the two hours could not be up yet, and Lauchlan
having tried to keep the laugh in too long it exploded in his mouth,
whereupon, said he, with a guffaw, "He hasna written a word for near an
hour!"

"What! It was you I heard!" cried Mr. Ogilvy gleaming, while the unhappy
Cathro tore the essay from Tommy's hands. Essay! It was no more an essay
than a twig is a tree, for the gowk had stuck in the middle of his
second page. Yes, stuck is the right expression, as his chagrined
teacher had to admit when the boy was cross-examined. He had not been
"up to some of his tricks," he had stuck, and his explanations, as you
will admit, merely emphasized his incapacity.

He had brought h