unconsciously caught in the net.

"I wanted one word," replied Tommy, unconsciously avoiding it.

"You jewel!" muttered Mr. Ogilvy under his breath, but Mr. Cathro would
have banged the boy's head had not the ministers interfered.

"It is so easy, too, to find the right word," said Mr. Gloag.

"It's no; it's as difficult as to hit a squirrel," cried Tommy, and
again Mr. Ogilvy nodded approval.

But the ministers were only pained.

"The lad is merely a numskull," said Mr. Dishart, kindly.

"And no teacher could have turned him into anything else," said Mr.
Duthie.

"And so, Cathro, you need not feel sore over your defeat," added Mr.
Gloag; but nevertheless Cathro took Tommy by the neck and ran him out of
the parish school of Thrums. When he returned to the others he found the
ministers congratulating McLauchlan, whose nose was in the air, and
complimenting Mr. Ogilvy, who listened to their formal phrases solemnly
and accepted their hand-shakes with a dry chuckle.

"Ay, grin away, sir," the mortified dominie of Thrums said to him
sourly, "the joke is on your side."

"You are right, sir," replied Mr. Ogilvy, mysteriously, "the joke is on
my side, and the best of it is that not one of you knows what the joke
is!"

And then an odd thing happened. As they were preparing to leave the
school, the door opened a little and there appeared in the aperture the
face of Tommy, tear-stained but excited. "I ken the word now," he cried,
"it came to me a' at once; it is hantle!"

The door closed with a victorious bang, just in time to prevent Cathro--

"Oh, the sumph!" exclaimed Mr. Lauchlan McLauchlan, "as if it mattered
what the word is now!"

And said Mr. Dishart, "Cathro, you had better tell Aaron Latta that the
sooner he sends this nincompoop to the herding the better."

But Mr. Ogilvy giving his Lauchlan a push that nearly sent him
sprawling, said in an ecstasy to himself, "He _had_ to think of it till
he got it--and he got it. The laddie is a genius!" They were about to
tear up Tommy's essay, but he snatched it from them and put it in his
oxter pocket. "I am a collector of curiosities," he explained, "and this
paper may be worth money yet."

"Well," said Cathro, savagely, "I have one satisfaction, I ran him out
of my school."

"Who knows," replied Mr. Ogilvy, "but what you may be proud to dust a
chair for him when he comes back?"

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE END OF A BOYHOOD

Convinced of his own worthless