his feet, eager to return the blow Stanley had given him.

"What does this mean?" he demanded sternly. "Fighting?"

Not a word fell from the boys. The tumult had ceased as by magic.

"Do you hear me? I will stand no trifling! A nice commencement of the
term. Taking advantage of the absence of Dr. Colville, eh?" came the
stern voice of the science master, as his eyes went round the group. Dr.
Colville, the Head of Garfield, had been taken ill during the vacation,
and had been ordered complete rest from his duties for another month or
so by his medical adviser. In his absence the reins of government had
fallen into the hands of Mr. Weevil, as second in command.

Still no answer from the boys. They were as silent as before. It seemed
as though they had been smitten with sudden dumbness.

"Lost your tongues, eh? They were going briskly enough a minute since!"
went on the master grimly. Then he paused, and fixed his eyes upon
Stanley. "Moncrief major! It was you who started this disturbance. You
struck Newall!"

"Yes, sir, I struck Newall," assented Stanley.

"Why?"

"Ask Newall, sir."

"I am asking you, sir!" came the sharp retort. "Why did you strike
Newall? Quick, your answer!"

Stanley waited for Newall to speak; but Newall's lips, bleeding and
swollen from the blow, were tightly compressed. He scarcely heard the
master's words. He could only think of the blow he had received. It was
rankling in his mind, and turning to bitter hate the ill-feeling that
already existed between him and Stanley. It was the first seed of hate
that in the time to come was to bring forth a bitter harvest of tares.
Ah, boys, beware of the first seeds of hate! Pluck them from you, as you
would your hand from the fire. Otherwise they will spring up so quickly
that they will wind themselves, like poisonous weeds, round every fibre
of your being, blighting and strangling all the better impulses of your
nature, killing, above all, the choicest blossom that comes to us from
the Divine garden--the blossom of love. Where hate flourishes, love
cannot be. There is no room for the two. Never since the world began
have they ever flourished side by side--never since the seeds of hate
were planted by the serpent in the first garden, the Garden of Eden.
Beware, then, of the seeds of hate!

From a fine sense of honour, Stanley remained silent. Now that he had
struck Newall he had no wish to implicate him. He began to feel some
pity for him as he