ts importance was wholly eclipsed by the contents of a note which he
found lying on his table, and which ran as follows:

"Dear Riddell,--Will you join us at tea this evening at seven? I expect
Fairbairn and Bloomfield.

"Yours faithfully,--

"R. Patrick."

Riddell groaned. Had he not had trouble, and humiliation, and misery
enough? What had he done to deserve this crowning torture? Tea with
the Griffins!

He sat down and wrote, as in politeness bound, that he would have much
pleasure in accepting the doctor's kind invitation, and, sending the
note off by Cusack, resigned himself to the awful prospect, which for a
time shut out everything else.

However, he had no right, he felt, to be idle. He must finish his work
now, so as to be free for the evening's "entertainment," and for the
other equally grave duties which lay before him.

But somehow he could not work; his mind was too full to be able to
settle steadily on any one thing, and finally he pushed away the books
and gave up the attempt.

It was at that moment that the small black book he had found caught his
eye.

He took it up, intending, if possible, to ascertain whose property it
was, and, failing that, to send Cusack to "cry" it round the school.

But the first thing that met his eye on the front page roused his
curiosity. It was evidently a quotation:

"Pass me not, oh! reader, by,
Read my pages tenderly (`tenderly' altered to `on the sly');
All that's writ is writ for thee,
Open now and you shall see."

After such a cordial invitation, even Riddell could hardly feel much
qualm about dipping farther into this mysterious manuscript.

It appeared to be a diary, which, but for the announcement at the
beginning, one would have been inclined to regard as a private document.
And the first entry Riddell encountered was certainly of that
character:

"Friday, the fifth day of the week.--My birthday. Rose at 6:591/2. I am
old. I am 24 (and ten off) some one had taken my soap. Meditations As
I dressed me. The world is very large I am small in the world I will
aspire as I go to chapel I view Riddell who toucheth his hat. Gross
conduct of my father sending me only half a crown breakfast at 7:33.
Disturbance with the evil Telson whereby I obtained lines."

This was quite enough for one day, and Riddell, greatly mystified,
turned a few pages farther on to see if the narrative became more lucid
as it progressed.

"I am now a skyrock