his mother good-bye through
the carriage window. "I have to thank you for your hospitality, and him
for the great service he has done me. God bless him and you!"

It was almost an echo of words Paul had heard before, but they fell none
the less sweetly on his ears. That night he dreamed he was hard at work
on the prize essay, "The Invasion of Great Britain," and that just as he
had finished it, a shadow fell across the room. He turned round to see
whence the shadow came, and saw that it was--Zuker! Then he melted into
thin air. When Paul turned to his essay he found that that had
disappeared, too. In the shock of the discovery he awoke. Some one was
bending over him, but it was not Zuker. It was his mother.

"What is it, dear?" she asked anxiously. "You cried out so loudly that I
thought something dreadful had happened."

"Cried out! What?"

"Help! help!"

"Oh," said Paul, laughing, but shivering in spite of himself, "I was
dreaming--that is all! I'm sorry to have disturbed you, mother."

The day following, the vacation was at an end, and Paul returned to
Garside. It was an old, turreted building, dating a couple of centuries
back. Flying from the west turret was a flag, known as the "old flag at
Garside." It had a history which was dear to every boy in the school. It
had been taken by Captain Talbot in the Crimea. The captain had formerly
been a scholar at Garside. He died soon after of his wounds, and left
the flag as a legacy to the school.

"Keep the flag flying at the old school," he said, almost with his last
breath. And then God received his spirit.

The flag was very much stained, and had scarcely any of the original
pattern remaining; but, none the less, the boys were prouder of that
flag than any other decoration in the school.

Just as Paul came in sight of it flying from the turret, a timid voice
sounded in his ear:

"Is that Garside, please?"

Paul, looking down at the speaker, saw a weak-looking, wizen-faced boy,
with pale, thin cheeks, and one shoulder slightly higher than the other.
In a word, he was a hunchback. Paul could not help a slight start as he
looked at him. The boy was quick to notice it, and a slight wave of
colour came to the pallid cheek. Paul was annoyed at himself for having
betrayed astonishment, and answered kindly:

"Yes; that is Garside. Are you going there?"

The boy nodded.

"Very well; we'll go along together. Do you mind taking my arm? The
fellows are rather a ro