Yes, sir; and what else did he do?"

Trimble, as he looked every now and then down the room, was astonished
to notice the quiet which prevailed in the lower class, and the interest
with which every boy was listening to the new master.

He did not like it. He couldn't manage to interest his class, and it
didn't please him at all that this casual newcomer should come and cut
him out before his face.

After a while he walked down the room and approached the assistant's
desk.

He was convinced this, unwonted order could not result from any
legitimate cause.

"You don't seem to be doing much work here, I must say," said he. "Give
me the book, Mr Jeffreys: I want to see what they know of the lesson.
Where's the place?"

Jeffreys handed the book, putting his finger on the place.

Trimble glanced through a paragraph or two, and then pointing to a boy,
one of the least sharp in the class, said,--

"Now, Walker, what happened after Monmouth's death?"

"Oh, if you please, sir, a cruel judge, called Jeffreys, condemned--"

"That will do. You, Rosher, how many people did he condemn to death?"

"More than three hundred, sir," answered Freddy promptly.

"What for, Bacon?"

"Because they helped Monmouth."

Trimble felt perplexed. He never had a class that answered like this.
He tried once more.

"Pridger, what else did he do?"

"He had 849 transported, sir."

Trimble shut the book. It was beyond him. If Pridger had said 848 or
850, he could have made something of it. But it floored him completely
to find the second class knowing the exact number of convicts in one
given year of English history.

"Don't let me catch any of you wasting your time," he said. "Farrar,
what do you mean by looking about you, sir? Stand on the form for half
an hour."

"Farrar has been very quiet and attentive all the afternoon," said
Jeffreys.

"Stand on the form an hour, Farrar," said Trimble, with a scowl.

Jeffreys' brow darkened as he watched the little tyrant strut off to his
class. How long would he be able to keep hands off him?

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. An unconscious bond of
sympathy had arisen between the new master and his pupils. His
historical importance invested him with a glamour which was nearly
heroic; and his kind word on Farrar's behalf had won him an amount of
confidence which was quick in showing itself. "We like you better than
Fison, though he was nice," said Bacon, as the c