ndows
of the big school-room. And Harry's place, too, in the room, he
specially liked; close to the window, he could look out, through its
ivied frame, across the smooth green lawn, away down the meadows to the
distant sea. And who can wonder that the sight of the heaving billows
brought thoughts of his father to him many a time and oft? But many a
time, too, those dreams were snapt by the voice of Mr Prichard, his
master--

"Campbell, attend to your work;" or, "Campbell, don't look out of the
window;" or, when in a facetious mood, "Campbell, you cannot learn your
delectus by the light of nature."

But this morning, Harry was far too occupied to stare about. Not that
he was thinking specially of what his mother had told him the night
before, that she would soon be gone away from him; childlike, he had
almost forgotten that, or at any rate the examination, for the time
being, absorbed his whole attention. And like us all, he could not
realise the sorrow his mother's words conveyed. Who of us, indeed,
does not feel, even when standing over the grave of some dear one dead,
even when decking the green mound with flowers--feel it is well-nigh
impossible fully to realise that those hands, now laid white beneath
the mould, will never again be clasped in ours on earth. So it is no
wonder that Harry was in his usual good spirits; with this only
difference, that the examination into whose depths he had now plunged,
was filling him with nervous excitement and terrified interest.

Each boy had a desk and stool to himself, and to the little boys the
desk-key was a proud possession. The sixteen desks were ranged in even
rows, Mr Prichard's being at the opposite end, it so happened, to
Harry's place. By Harry sat Egerton the new boy, the dreaded rival;
and as they bent, side by side, over their desks, their pens and inky
fingers scrambling as hard as possible over their papers, many eyes
were turned upon them, to see which appeared to be getting on best.

Harry himself was too busy to take any notice of Egerton; and the
morning was half-gone, and he had scarcely looked from his desk. But a
sudden impulse or wish to rest awhile, made him pause and lay down his
pen. And this is what met his eyes. Mr Prichard was standing with his
back to the boys, writing some directions on the class notice-board,
not hurrying himself, and quite lost in what he was doing. He was an
absent man, was Mr Prichard. All the boys were busy wr