s, and wishing he had never come to Saint
Dominic's, when a hand laid on his shoulder made him start. He looked
up and saw Mr Rastle.

"Greenfield," said the master, kindly, "how much of your imposition have
you done?"

"Seventy lines, sir."

"Hum! That will do this time. You had better get to bed."

"Oh, sir!" exclaimed Stephen, moved far more by Mr Rastle's kind tone
than by his letting him off thirty lines of the Caesar, "I'm so sorry I
was rude to you."

"Well, I was sorry, too; so we'll say no more about that. Why, what a
crack you must have got on your cheek!"

"Yes, sir; that was the ruler did that."

"The ruler! Then it wasn't a fair fight? Now don't begin telling me
all about it. I dare say you were very heroic, and stood up against
terrible odds. But you've a very black eye and a very sore cheek now,
so you had better get to bed as fast as you can."

And certainly the pale, bruised, upturned face of the boy did not look
very bright at that moment.

Stephen Greenfield went off to bed that night in a perturbed state of
mind and body. He had stuck loyally to his promise not to fag, and he
had earned the universal admiration of his comrades. But, on the other
hand, he had been awfully knocked about, and, almost as bad, he had been
effectively snubbed by Mr Rastle. He did not exactly know what to
think of it all. Had he done a fine deed or a foolish one? and what
ought he to do to-morrow?

Like a sensible little man, he went sound asleep over these questions,
and forgot all about them till the morrow.

When he woke Stephen was like a giant refreshed. His eye was certainly
a rather more brilliant yellow than the day before, and his cheek still
wore a dull red flush. But somehow he felt none of the misgivings and
dumps that had oppressed him the night before. He was full of hope
again and full of courage. The Guinea-pigs should never charge _him_
with treachery and desertion, and what he had gone through already in
the "good cause" he would go through again.

With this determination he dressed and went down to school. Loman,
whose summons he expected every moment to hear, did not put him to the
necessity of a renewed struggle. From all quarters, too, encouraging
reports came in from the various insurgents. Paul announced that
Greenfield senior took it "like a lamb"; Bramble recounted how his
"nigger-driver," as he was pleased to call Wren, had chased him twice
round the playground a