orn out these leaves, and done
quite mischief enough. Let me put the book back, and don't be like
children who hit the fender against which they've knocked their heads."

"Or dogs that bite the stick they've been thrashed with," said
Henderson. "You're right, Dubbs, and I respect you; ay, you fellows may
sneer if you like, but I advised you not to do it, and I won't make
myself an idiot because you do."

"Never mind," drawled Howard Tracy. "I hate Paton, and I'll do anything
to spite him," whereupon he snatched the book from Daubeny, and threw it
entire into the flames. Poor Tracy had been even in more serious
scrapes with Mr Paton than Walter had; his vain manner was peculiarly
abhorrent to the master, who took every opportunity of snubbing him; but
nothing would pierce through the thick cloak of Tracy's conceit, and
fully satisfied with himself, his good looks, and his aristocratic
connections, he sat down in contented ignorance, and despised learning
too much to be in the least put out by being invariably the last in his
form.

"What, is there nothing left for me to burn?" said Walter, who sat
glowering on the high iron fender, and swinging his legs impatiently.
"Let's see what else there is in the desk. Here are a pack of old
exercises, apparently; they'll make a jolly blaze. Stop, though, _are_
they old exercises? Well, never mind; if not, so much the better. In
they shall go."

"Stop! what _are_ you doing, Walter?" said Henderson, catching him by
the arm; "you know these can't be old exercises. Paton always puts
_them_ in his waste-paper basket, not in his desk. Oh, Walter, what
_have_ you done?"

"The outside sheets were exercises anyhow," said Walter gloomily.
"Here, it's no good trying to save them now, whatever they were" (for
Henderson was attempting to rake them out between the bars); "they're
done for now," and he pressed down the thick mass of foolscap into the
reddest centre of the fire, and held it there until nothing remained of
it but a heap of flaky crimson ashes.

A dead silence followed, for the boys felt that now, at any rate, they
were "in for it."

The sound of the tea-bell prevented further mischief; and as Henderson
thrust his arm through Walter's, he said, "Oh, Evson, I wish you hadn't
done that! I wish I'd got you to come away before. What a passionate
fellow you are!"

"Well, it's done now," said Walter, already beginning to soften, and to
repent of his fatuity.

"Wh