night this year.
Is that so?'

'I was not aware anything was settled,' said Mark, flushing with
pleasure. 'I did lay a little thing of my own, a sort of allegorical
Christmas piece--a _masque_, don't you know--before the Doctor and the
Speeches Committee, but I haven't heard anything definite yet.'

'Oh, perhaps I'm premature,' said Mr. Shelford; 'perhaps I'm
premature.'

'Do you mind telling me if you've heard anything said about it?' asked
Mark, thoroughly interested.

'I did hear some talk about it in the luncheon hour. You weren't in
the room, I believe, but I think they were to come to a decision this
afternoon.'

'Then it will be all over by now,' said Mark; 'there may be a note on
my desk about it. I--I think I'll go and see, if you'll excuse me.'

And he left the room hastily, quite forgetting his original purpose in
entering: something much more important to him than whether a boy
should be flogged or not, when he had no doubt richly deserved it, was
pending just then, and he could not rest until he knew the result.

For Mark had always longed for renown of some sort, and for the last
few years literary distinction had seemed the most open to him. He had
sought it by more ambitious attempts, but even the laurels which the
performance of a piece of his by boy-actors on a Speech-day might
bring him had become desirable; and though he had written and
submitted his work confidently and carelessly enough, he found himself
not a little anxious and excited as the time for a decision drew near.

It was a small thing; but if it did nothing else it would procure him
a modified fame in the school and the masters' room, and Mark Ashburn
had never felt resigned to be a nonentity anywhere.

Little wonder, then, that Langton's extremity faded out of his mind as
he hurried back to his class-room, leaving that unlucky small boy
still in his captor's clutches.

The old clergyman put on the big hat again when Mark had gone, and
stood up peering over the desk at his prisoner.

'Well, if you don't want to be locked up here all night, you'd better
be off,' he remarked.

'To the Detention Room, sir?' faltered the boy.

'You know the way, I believe? If not, I can show you,' said the old
gentleman politely.

'But really and truly,' pleaded Langton, 'I didn't do anything this
time. I was shoved in.'

'Who shoved you in? Come, you know well enough; you're going to lie, I
can see. Who was he?'

It is not improbable t