Horace
Howard found himself sent to Coventry, as his foes had decreed. As he
was a quiet, studious lad, he did not notice this at first, but by
degrees it impressed itself upon him that no one had asked him a
question all day, or even told him that he must not do this or that.
He felt vaguely uncomfortable before he set off on his long walk home;
and when he found that several of his schoolfellows, who had
previously talked to him as they walked part of the way together, ran
off as soon as the gate was passed, his heart sank within him, and he
wondered what he could have done to bring this punishment upon
himself.

But, whatever he might feel, he determined not to let his mother know
anything about it, and so he went into the little room where she sat
at work, whistling cheerily as usual.

'Stitch, stitch, stitch,' he said, as his mother looked up from her
work for the accustomed kiss.

'You're earlier to-night, dear,' said Mrs. Howard, as she laid aside
her work and drew the tea-tray close to her.

'I suppose I walked a bit faster, and didn't gossip quite so much,'
said the lad, and he had to strangle a sigh as he spoke, lest his
mother should detect it.

'Are you hungry, my boy?' said his mother as he hung up his cap.

'Not very,' answered Horace, for he knew by this time that it was
inconvenient for him to have a large appetite, and so he was learning
to regulate it by the state of their finances.

'You went in your old jacket again to-day, Horace,' she remarked as
she set his dinner before him, for he took his mid-day meal with him
to school.

'Yes, I wore my old jacket. Why not?' said Horace. 'You mended it up
so nicely that it was a pity not to give it another turn and save the
other. Jackets can't be picked up in the street, you know; and though
we may sometimes pick wool off the hedges, it isn't woven and made up
into boys' jackets.'

Horace talked on in this strain, to prevent his mother from asking
questions as to how he had got on at school during the day, for Mrs.
Howard knew something of the ways of boys, and was terribly afraid
lest some of her son's schoolfellows should find out something of
their circumstances, and not treat Horace as they would an equal.

Nothing but the lad's love of science and her desire to give him an
education that would fit him to make use of this talent, had made her
willing to consent that he should compete for a scholarship that would
enable him to do this. It was