l of the garments of those in authority over
them. To them he was 'an awful swell'; though he was not actually
overdressed--it was only that he liked to walk home along Piccadilly
with the air of a man who had just left his club and had nothing
particular to do.

He was not unpopular with his boys: he did not care twopence about any
of them, but he felt it pleasant to be popular, and his careless
good-nature secured that result without much effort on his part. They
had a great respect for his acquirements too, speaking of him among
themselves as 'jolly clever when he liked to show it'; for Mark was
not above giving occasional indications of deep learning which were
highly impressive. He went out of his way to do it, and was probably
aware that the learning thus suggested would not stand any very severe
test; but then there was no one there to apply it.

Any curiosity as to the last hat and coat on the wall was satisfied
while he still sat at his desk, for the door, with its upper panels of
corrugated glass protected by stout wire network--no needless
precaution there--opened just then, and a small boy appeared, looking
rather pale and uncomfortable, and holding a long sheet of blue
foolscap in one hand.

'Hullo, Langton,' said Mark, as he saw him; 'so it's you; why, haven't
you gone yet, eh? How's that?'

'Please sir,' began the boy, dolorously, 'I've got into an awful
row--I'm run in, sir.'

'Ah!' said Mark; 'sorry for you--what is it?'

'Well, I didn't do anything,' said he. 'It was like this. I was going
along the passage, and just passing Old Jemmy's--I mean Mr.
Shelford's--door, and it was open. And there was a fellow standing
outside, a bigger fellow than me, and he caught hold of me by the
collar and ran me right in and shut the door and bolted. And Mr.
Shelford came at me and boxed my ears, and said it wasn't the first
time, and I should have a detention card for it. And so he gave me
this, and I'm to go up to the Doctor with it and get it signed when
it's done!'

And the boy held out the paper, at the top of which Mark read in old
Shelford's tremulous hand--'Langton. 100 lines for outrageous
impertinence. J. Shelford.'

'If I go up, you know, sir,' said the boy, with a trembling lip, 'I'm
safe for a swishing.'

'Well, I'm afraid you are,' agreed Mark, 'but you'd better make haste,
hadn't you? or they'll close the Detention Room, and you'll only be
worse off for waiting, you see.'

Mark was really