f it meant a
licking, was a very deceptive one.

"I'm very sorry," said I; "I tried to bring the belt round yesterday
evening, but--"

"Hang the belt!" said the captain. "That's not what I want you for.
Why didn't you tell me what happened at home yesterday afternoon?"

Then it was another row altogether I was in for! What, I wondered, had
I done! Surely he didn't suspect me of having pushed his young sister
into the water?

"I didn't like, while the match was on. I didn't know Mamie had tumbled
in, or I would have stopped her."

"But you fished her out?" he asked.

"I told Annie to take her and dry her," said I, wondering where the blow
was going to fall. "You see, she went upstairs for the belt, and it was
when she had gone it happened. I don't think it was her fault."

To my amazement Redwood laughed and clapped me on the back.

"You young donkey, don't you know you saved Mamie's life, and I want to
say 'Thank you,' to you?"

This unexpected _denouement_ alarmed me almost as much as my previous
misgivings.

"Oh no, really I didn't," said I; "she was close to the edge."

"Another inch or two and she would have been in six feet of water," said
he. Then, with a friendly laugh, he added--

"You may not have meant to save her life; but you did, and must take the
consequences. My mother wants you to come to tea to-morrow. Call here
for me after evening chapel, and we'll go together. Good-bye now, and
thanks, youngster."

I could hardly tell if I was on my head or my heels as I walked back.
It had never occurred to me till now that I had done anything out of the
common in fishing Miss Mamie out of her muddy bath. Indeed, I still
felt I was getting credit I did not deserve, and blushed to myself. As
to the invitation for to-morrow, that seemed to me a burst of glory
quite past my present comprehension, and I resolved to treasure it as a
secret in my own bosom until at least I had made sure it was not a
dream.

Before then, however, I had less pleasant work on hand. My comrades did
not fail to remind me several times during the afternoon of my
"promise," as they called it, to distribute the Conversation Club
circulars in Great Hall, and adjured me not to run it too fine. The
consequence was that, at a quarter to five, I was convoyed, with the
bundle of papers under my arm, to the door of the dining-hall, and
gently shoved inside, with all retreat cut off until my task was done.

Some of the s