I made up my mind this should be the last occasion on which such a
penalty should be mine. But, alas! the very next day the confectioner
had a wonderful negro figure in his window made all of sweets, his face
of liquorice and his shirt of sugar, his lips of candy and his eyes of
brandy-balls. I was spellbound, and could not tear myself away. And
when I did, to add to my misfortunes, there was a crowd outside the
omnibus stables to watch the harnessing of a new and very frisky horse.
Of course I had to witness this spectacle, and the consequence was I got
to school half an hour late, and was again reprimanded and stood in the
corner.

This went on from bad to worse. Not only did I become unpunctual, but I
neglected my lessons till the last moment, and then it was too late to
get them off, though I could learn as much in a short time as any of the
boys. All this grieved poor Mrs Sparrow, who talked to my parents
about it, who talked very seriously to me. My father looked unhappy, my
mother cried; Mrs Sparrow (who was present at the interview) was
silent, and I wept loudly and promised to reform--honestly resolving I
would do so.

Well, for a week I was a model of punctuality and industry; but then the
confectioner changed his sugar negro for an elephant made all of toffee,
and I was once more beguiled. Once more from top of my class I sank to
the bottom; and though after that I took fits and starts of regularity
and study, I never was able for long together to recover my place, and
Mrs Sparrow fairly gave me up as a bad job.

What was to be done? I was growing up. In time my twelfth birthday
arrived, and it was _time_ I went to boarding school.

I could see with what anxiety my parents looked forward to the time, and
I inwardly reproached myself for being the cause of their trouble.
"Perhaps," thought I, "I shall get all right at Welford," and having
consoled myself with that possibility I thought no more about it. My
father talked very earnestly to me before I left home for the first time
in my life. He had no fears, he said, for my honesty or my good
principles; but he had fears for my perseverance and diligence. "Either
you must conquer your habit of dawdling," he said, "or it will conquer
you." I was ready to promise any sacrifice to be cured of this enemy;
but he said, "No, lad, don't promise, but remember and do!" And then he
corded up my trunk and carried it downstairs. I cannot to this day
recal