r some time, however, he could not find his cap. It did not need
much reflection to tell him what this meant or foreboded. It was the
beginning of persecution. But after rumaging about among the boxes
kept in the lobby, his patience was at length rewarded. There, in a
corner, was the missing cap; but torn and dirty and much injured.
Nothing daunted, he cleaned it as well as he could, and, putting it on,
emerged into the play-ground.

Just as he was fairly in the open, walking quickly towards the gates,
and not looking about him, he heard a burst of voices that bore no
pleasant meaning; and then a body of tennis-balls flew all round
him--some hitting him smartly, some whizzing within an ace of him.

As soon as he had recovered from the first shock of his astonishment,
stung and bruised, he looked to see who were his assailants, and there
he saw about twenty boys, mostly of his own age and size, in fact,
belonging to his form; though several of the crowd stood out from the
rest, as older and bigger.

Harry's weakness was now turned to indignation.

"You beastly cowards!" he cried, "what have I done to you?"

"Thought to get the prize by cribbing, did you, you sneak?"

"I did not crib," shouted Harry, who had not stirred from where he was
first hit by the balls.

"You little liar, you did. Give it him again," cried one of the bigger
boys; and then another shower of balls fell thick about him.

"I'm not a liar. It's you're the liars, and the cowards too," he
cried, coming nearer the crowd; and then the boys, too, crowded nearer
to him.

"Do you mean to call me a liar? Do you mean to call me a coward?"
cried one after the other--the bigger boys now being louder and more
threatening in their tones.

"Yes, I do," answered Harry, "if you say I cribbed, when I didn't. And
you are cowards to all set on one."

"Leave him to me," said Warburton, a tall, ungainly boy of fourteen, as
boy after boy was eager to take the quarrel to himself. "I'll teach
him. Now, you young brute," he cried, advancing to Harry. "Do you
mean to call me a liar and a coward?"

[Illustration: "'Leave him to me,' said Warburton, a tall ungainly boy
of fourteen, as boy after boy was eager to take the quarrel to
himself."--WILTON SCHOOL, page 52.]

"Yes, I do," persisted Harry, as Warburton came nearer, and shook his
fist in his face. "It wasn't my crib; and you'd better not hit me!"

"Better not hit _you_," jeered Warburton; while