ure made with the
bat, the little bowlers and fielders were forced to join.

"Well, if I were a quarrelsome chap," said Glyn to himself, "I should
just go up to Master Slegge and put my fist up against his nose. Great,
stupid, malicious hobbledehoy! But it's very plain Singhy hasn't been
here. Now, where can he be? Gone down the town perhaps to buy
something--cakes or fruit I suppose. How fond he is of something nice
to eat? But there, he always gives a lot away to the little fellows.
Well, so do I, if you come to that; but I don't think it's because I
give them buns and suckers that they all like me as they do. Well, I
suppose that's where Singh's gone; but he might have told me and asked
me to go with him."

The boy strolled back with the intention of going into the class-room,
now empty, to sit down and have a good long read; but as he drew near
the house he came upon the page, who, wonderful to relate, displayed a
face without a vestige of blacking.

"Hi, Sam!" cried Glyn. "Seen anything of Mr Singh?"

"Yes, sir; I see him down the town--saw him down the town, sir, I mean,"
said the boy hastily, recalling the fact that he had been corrected
several times about his use of the verb "To see."

"Saw him down the town," he muttered to himself. "See, saw; see, saw.
Wish I could recollect all that."

"Which way was he going?" said Glyn.

"Straight down, sir, towards the church, along of Mr Morris, sir."

"Humph! Gone for a walk, I suppose," said Glyn thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir, they were walking, sir. Shall I tell him you want him, sir,
when he comes back?"

"Oh no, I don't think you need. I dare say he'll come to me," replied
Glyn, and he strolled into the big class-room, unlocked his desk, got
out a book of travels, opened it at one particular spot which he had
reached a day or two before, and then began to read, growing so
interested that a couple of hours glided away like half of one.

Then, closing the book with a sigh, as the dial on the wall insisted
upon the fact that time was passing, he replaced the work and went up to
his room to prepare for the evening meal.

"What a pity it is," he said, "that half-holidays will go so quickly.
Classic afternoons always seem three times as long, and so do Mr
Morris's lessons. I wish I were not so stupid over mathematics."

On reaching the door of his room he thrust it open quietly, and found
Singh kneeling down before his Indian bullock-trunk, lifting