. "Come here."

The Tadpole obeyed, and glared triumphantly at Stephen.

"Now, Master Greenfield," said Pembury, addressing Stephen; "have the
kindness to hand me the ink."

Stephen hesitated; he felt _sure_ Anthony was a master; and yet Oliver's
directions had been explicit.

"Do you hear?" thundered Anthony.

"Do you hear?" squeaked the Tadpole, delighted to have the tables turned
on his adversary.

"Oliver said I wasn't to let it go," faltered Stephen.

"Do you hear me, sir?" again demanded Anthony.

"Do you hear? give it up!" again squeaked the Tadpole.

Stephen sighed, and surrendered the inkpot. There was an air of
authority about Pembury which he dared not defy.

"Now, Master Tadpole, here's your ink; half a pot you said? Put your
hands behind you, and stir if you dare!" and Pembury looked so awful as
he spoke that the wretched boy was quite petrified.

The Fifth Form boy then solemnly emptied half the inkpot on to the top
of the young gentleman's head, who ventured neither by word nor gesture
to protest.

"Now you can go, sir!" and without another word he led the small youth,
down whose face trickled a dozen tiny streams of black, making it look
very like a gridiron, to the door, and there gently but firmly handed
him into the passage. The wretched youth flew off to proclaim his
sorrows to his confederates, and vow vengeance all over Tadpole and
Guinea-pig-land against his tormentor and the new boy, who was the
author of all his humiliation.

Pembury meanwhile returned to Stephen. That young gentleman had felt
his belief in Pembury's authority somewhat shaken by this unusual mode
of punishment, but the Fifth Form boy soon reassumed his ascendency. He
produced from his pocket a paper, and thus addressed Stephen: "Dr
Senior regrets that he should be absent at such an important time in the
history of Saint Dominic's as the day of your arrival, Master
Greenfield, but he will be back to-morrow. Meanwhile, you are to occupy
yourself with answering the questions on this paper, and take the
answers to the head master's study at ten to-morrow. Of course you will
not be so dishonourable as to show the questions to any one, not even
your brother, or attempt to get the slightest help in answering them.
Good-bye, my boy. Don't trouble to stare at my left leg, if it _is_
shorter than the other. Good-bye."

Poor Stephen felt so confused by the whole of this oration, particularly
the last sentence, w