en he
sank back, and around him an ominous stillness seemed to reign.

The name was that of Runge, _tertius_, who got some historical work.
Then _quartus_, Blomberg, who was a passionate botanist, received a
valuable text book on his favourite subject. Still the rector went on,
and Keith felt sure that his name had been passed over by some mistake,
and that now it would come.

"A German lexicon for special attention to the student of that
language," the Rector droned on.

Again Keith started to rise from his seat, but even as he did so, it
flashed through his mind that he was given no more attention to German
than to other studies.

"... to Otto Krass of the Second Grade," the Rector completed his
sentence, holding out a book.

As Keith sank back on the bench, Krass, _quintus_, rose with an
expression on his face as if he had become personally involved in a
particularly incredible miracle.

A whisper ran through the rest of the class. Glances were cast at Keith,
who felt them like so many lashes on bare skin although in every other
respect he had once more become utterly unconscious of what happened
about him.

By slow degrees he recovered so far that he could try to think, but the
process was unendurable. There could be no accident. It was a deliberate
slight aimed at him for some specific reason. He tried to think of the
past year and its happenings in and out of school, but this effort
produced no solution to the riddle.

Suddenly he bethought himself of his speculations concerning his place
in the class. It seemed that he had been deeply envious of Davidson all
that year. With a quick turn of the head he surveyed for a moment the
haughty expression and narrowly drawn postures of the boy beside him.
There was a trace of a sneer on that face, and again Keith's heart was
flooded with resentment. But this mood changed abruptly into
contriteness. Perhaps he was being punished by some one, by God--he
hesitated at that thought--for grudging his schoolmate the place and the
honours that he probably had deserved. Keith was the meanest of
the mean....

Krass was back in his seat showing his book. He showed it to Keith also,
but with a palpable embarrassment that touched the latter as an
additional blow. Keith tried to say that it was nice, but his lips were
too dry and stiff to produce a sound.

The Rector was still reading off names. To save himself from his own
thoughts, Keith tried to listen. Soon he noticed