tie, under the customary form of
oath, that he would write something, and whatever he wrote he would hand
in, though it was only twenty words, and Speug never went back from his
oath. When Howieson caught the Dowbiggin ear with a pellet there is no
doubt that a joyful light came into Speug's eyes, and he struggled with
strong temptation, and when old friends made facetious signs to him he
hesitated more than once, but in the end assumed an air of dignified
amazement, explaining, as it were, that his whole mind was devoted to
literary composition, and that he did not know what they meant by this
impertinent intrusion upon a student's privacy. Cosh certainly jumped
once in his seat as if he had been stung by a wasp, and it is certainly
true that at that moment there was a piece of elastic on the thumb and
first finger of Speug's left hand, but his right hand was devoted to
literature. The language which Cosh allowed himself to use in the heat
of the moment was so unvarnished that it came under Bulldog's attention,
who told him that if he wanted to say anything like that again he must
say it in Latin, and that he ought to take notice of the excellent
conduct of Peter McGuffie, who, Bulldog declared, was not at all
unlikely to win the prize. And as the master returned to his seat his
back was seen to shake, and the wink with which Speug favoured the
class, in a brief rest from labour, was a reward for an hour's drudgery.
Bulldog knew everybody up and down, out and in--what a poor creature
Cosh was, and what good stuff could be found in Speug; and he also knew
everything that was done--why Cosh had said what he said, and why Speug
at that moment was lost in study. Bulldog was not disappointed when
Nestie's face lighted up at the title of the essay, and he knew why his
favourite little lad did not write anything for fifteen minutes, but
looked steadily out at the window and across the North Meadow, and he
returned to his paper with a sense of keen satisfaction when Nestie at
last settled down to work and wrote without ceasing, except when now and
again he hesitated as for a word, or tried a sentence upon his ear to
know how it sounded. For the desire of Bulldog's heart was that Nestie
should win, and if--though that, of course, was too absurd--Speug by the
help of the favouring gods should come in second, Bulldog would feel
that he had not lived in vain.

"Ye have three meenuts to dot your i's and stroke your t's," said
Bulld