th joy. "Oh,
may I, Mr. Faber?"

"Why, that is what I called you in here for, Jasper," said the master.
"It seemed so very much better for him to hear it from a boy, for I
remember my own boyhood, though so very long since; and the effect will,
I feel sure, be much deeper than if Pickering hears it from me. He is
very tired of this study, Jasper," and Mr. Faber glanced around at the
four walls, and again came that grim smile. "And even to hear a word of
commendation, it might not be so pleasing to be called in. So away with
you. At the proper time, I shall speak to him myself."

Jasper, needing no second bidding, fled precipitately--dashed in again.
"Beg pardon, I'd forgotten my books." He seized them from the table, and
made quick time tracking Pickering.

"Where is Pick?" rushing up to a knot of boys on a corner of the
playground, just separating to go home.

"Don't know; what's up, King?"

"Can't stop," said Jasper, flying back to the schoolroom. "I must get
Pick."

"Dodge has gone," shouted a boy clearing the steps, who had heard the
last words. So Jasper, turning again, left school and playground far
behind, to run up the steps of the Cabot mansion.

"Pickering here?"

"Yes." The butler had seen him hurrying over the stairs to his own room
just five minutes ago. And in less than a minute Jasper was up in that
same place.

There sat Pickering by his table, his long legs upon its surface, and
his hands thrust into his pockets. His books sprawled just where he had
thrown them, at different angles along the floor.

"Hullo!" cried Jasper, flying in, to stop aghast at this.

"Yes, you see, Jasper, I'm played out," said Pickering. "It isn't any
use for me to study, and there are the plaguey things," pulling out one
set of fingers to point to the sprawling books. "I can't catch up. Every
teacher looks at me squint-eyed as if I were a hopeless case, which I
am!"

"Oh, you big dunce!" Jasper clapped his books on the table with a bang,
making Pickering draw down his long legs, rushed around to precipitate
himself on the rest of the figure in the chair, when he pommelled him to
his heart's content.

"If you expect to beat any hope into me, old boy," cried Pickering, not
caring in the least for the onslaught, "you'll miss your guess."

"I'm hoping to beat sense into you," cried Jasper, pounding away,
"though it looks almost impossible now," he declared, laughing. "Pick,
you've won! Mr. Faber says you've come