fternoon he had been invited to take tea with the six girls and
Mademoiselle, and after tea the weather being wet, they all played games
in the recreation-room. One of the smaller girls happened to swing
higher than decorum allowed, and caused Michael to blush and to turn his
head quickly and look intently at houses opposite. He knew that the girl
was unaware of the scandal she had created, and therefore blushed the
deeper and hoped that the matter would pass off quietly. But very soon
he heard a chatter of reproof, and the poor little girl was banished
from the room in disgrace, while all the other girls discussed the
shameful business from every point of view, calling upon Mademoiselle
and Michael to endorse their censure. Michael felt very sorry for the
poor little girl and wished very much that the others would let the
matter drop, but the discussion went on endlessly and as, just before he
went home, he happened to see the offending girl sitting by a window
with tear-stained face, Michael felt more sorry than ever and wished
that he dared to say a comforting word, to explain how well he
understood it was all an accident. On the way home, he walked silently,
meditating upon disgrace, and for the first time he realized something
of human cruelty and the lust to humiliate and submerge deeper still the
fallen. At the same time he himself experienced, in retrospect of the
incident, a certain curious excitement, and did not know whether, after
all, he had not taken pleasure in the little girl's shame, whether,
after all, he would not have liked to go back and talk the whole matter
out again. However, there was that exciting chapter in Treasure Island
to finish and the September Boy's Own Paper to expect. On the next day
Michael, walking with Miss Carthew on the Leas, met General Mace, and
girls' schools with their curious excitements and blushes were entirely
forgotten. General Mace, it appeared, was an old friend of Miss
Carthew's father and was staying by himself at Folkestone. General Mace
had fought in the Indian Mutiny and was exactly what a general should
be, very tall with a white moustache fiercely curling and a rigid back
that bent inwards like a bow and a magnificent ebony walking-stick and a
gruff voice. General Mace seemed to take a fancy to Michael and actually
invited him to go for a walk with him next day at ten o'clock.

"Sharp, mind," said the General as he saluted stiffly. "Ten o'clock to
the minute."