in this outrageous manner?" his tutor
asked. "Surely all the boys about here must know you by sight; and how
one of them would dare to strike you I cannot conceive."

"I know the fellow," Richard said angrily. "He is the son of that
doctor fellow who died two years ago."

"But what made him do it?" the tutor repeated.

"He was sailing his boat, and it got stuck, and he threw in some stones
to get it off; and I helped him, and I happened to hit the mast of his
beastly boat, and then he flew at me like a tiger, and that's all."

"Well, it seems to be a monstrous assault, Richard, and you must speak
to the squire about it."

"Oh, no, I sha'n't," Richard said hastily. "I don't want any row about
it, and I will pay him off some other way. I could lick him easy enough
if it had been a fair fight, only he knocked me down before I was on my
guard. No, I sha'n't say anything about it."

But Richard's tutor, on thinking the matter over, determined to speak
to the squire. Only the evening before, Mr. Linthorne had surprised him
by asking him several questions as to Richard's progress and conduct,
and had said something about examining him himself, to see how he was
getting on. This had caused Mr. Robertson no little alarm, for he knew
that even the most superficial questioning would betray the extent of
Richard's ignorance, and he had resolved that, henceforth, he would
endeavour to assert his authority, and to insist upon Richard's
devoting a certain portion of each day, regularly, to study. Should the
squire meet the boy anywhere about the house, he must at once notice
the condition of his face; and even if he did not meet him, he could
not fail to notice it on Sunday, when he sat beside him in the pew. It
would be better, therefore, that he should at once report the matter to
him.

Without saying a word to Richard of his intentions, he therefore went
to the squire's study, and told him what had taken place, as he had
learned it from Richard. The squire listened silently.

"Very well, Mr. Robertson. You were quite right to tell me about it. Of
course, I cannot suffer my nephew to be treated in this manner. At the
same time, I am sorry that it was Walsham's son. I don't know anything
about the boy, and should not know him even by sight, but I had an
esteem for his father, who was a hard-working man, and, I believe,
clever. He used to attend here whenever any of the servants were ill,
and I had intended to do something fo