ver.
He stooped down to lift him up; but Bateson blubbered.

"Don't touch me, please. Oh, I'm dying!" and rolled over, groaning.

It was no time for parleying. Railsford lifted him up in his arms and
looked at him. There were beads of perspiration on his face, and a
flavour of strong tobacco about his jacket. Bateson had been smoking.
The master carried him downstairs and out into the square, where he set
him on his feet. The cool air instantly revived the unhappy boy, and
what it left undone a short and sharp fit of sickness completed.

"You're better now," said Railsford, when this little ceremony was over.

Bateson was fain to admit it.

"How many more cigars have you got about you?" inquired the master, as
he stalked with the delinquent at his heels into his room, and closed
the door.

The Baby was pale this time with terror, not with tobacco. He
tremblingly turned out his trousers pockets, and produced a big cigar of
which about a quarter had been consumed.

"That's all, really, sir," he faltered.

Railsford took the cigar and sniffed it. In his old college days he
would not like to say he had not smoked as good a one himself.

"Very well," said he, handing it back to the astonished Baby. "Now,
Bateson, sit down on that chair. Here are some matches. You must
finish this cigar to the end before you leave this room."

The wretched Bateson turned green and began to howl.

"Oh no, please sir! Don't say that, sir! It will kill me! Please, Mr
Railsford!"

Railsford quietly lit a match, and handed it to the boy. Bateson fairly
went down on his knees, and grovelled at the master's feet.

"Oh, Mr Railsford! I'll promise never to touch one again--I really
will if you'll only let me off. I should die if you made me. Oh,
please!"

Railsford blew out the match and told the boy to get up.

"I never did it before," whimpered Bateson--it was hardly necessary to
say that. "I didn't know it was any harm. Felgate said it would do me
good. Please, Mr Railsford, may I put it in the fire? I'll never
touch such a beastly thing again."

And as Railsford said nothing to prevent it, he flung the origin of his
evils into the fire.

"Now go to your room," said the master. "And don't be so foolish
again."

Bateson departed, marvelling that he had not been thrashed for his
crime, but pretty effectually cured of any ambition to renew his
narcotic experiments. Railsford, had he been anyone else but Ma