ifference between the upper and lower forms.

The dormitory, to which he had looked forward with still greater
pleasure, had proved a delusion and a snare. Often, in the bitterness of
his experience in the dormitory, had he wished himself back in his warm
and comfortable bed at home. He did not see--did not understand that the
trials upon which he was entering were just those which were moulding
him for the future. They were to test and try him, as they had tested
and tried many others before him.

Some of you who read this may be going through the same experience as
Harry Moncrief. Remember, rough as the experience may be, it goes to
make the man in you, and it depends upon you whether you come from these
trials dross or pure gold.

By the side of the shed where Harry was standing there was a window,
thick with dust. Harry tried to look through the window, but, failing in
this, his forefinger went idly to work on the dust. Bit by bit he traced
out a face and head, almost without knowing it, for he had been thinking
of the meeting that was to take place in the shed rather than of his
sketch.

"My, it isn't at all bad!" he cried, standing back a pace and admiring
his handiwork when he had finished it. "If I'd really tried, I couldn't
have done it so well. Perhaps the nose doesn't stick up enough, but it's
got the right cut about it."

Harry was about to rub out the sketch, when he paused, as though
reluctant to rub out such a masterpiece.

"'Pon my word, it's rather good! I wonder if anybody would know who it's
meant for? I don't suppose anybody will. I've a jolly good mind to leave
it!"

He pronounced the last words with emphasis, turned on his heels, and
walked away.

Now it so happened that after Plunger and his companions had enjoyed
their laugh at the expense of Harry, their attention went back again to
the one absorbing topic of conversation--the meeting of the Fifth.

"Shouldn't I like to be there!" said Plunger, his curiosity growing as
the time for the meeting advanced. "I would like to know what's in the
wind! Is it about the Black Book, I wonder?"

"What's that to do with the Fifth any more than the rest of us?"
remarked Sedgeley.

"Oh, the Fifth always put a lot of side on, and like to cock it over
us!" retorted Plunger.

"You'll be just the same, Freddy, when you're sent up--if ever you are
sent up," remarked Baldry. "Sour grapes!"

"Shut up, Baldhead!" retorted Plunger hotly. "I never want