It was like a reprieve to convicted felons.

Cla.s.s went on, and the clock was getting on to twelve--the usual hour for a break--when the door opened, and Mr Ladislaw put in his head and said, "Smith, will you step down to my study? Mr Hashford, the mid-day bell will not ring till one to-day."

Smith solemnly followed the master from the room, and for another hour we worked in cla.s.s--one of us, at any rate--feeling very anxious and not a little uneasy.

When the bell did ring, and we went down stairs, not knowing exactly what was to become of us, my first thought was, what had become of Smith? He was not in the playground, where we wandered about listlessly for a quarter of an hour before dinner, nor was he to be seen when presently we a.s.sembled in the memorable parlour for our mid-day repast.

It was not a very grand meal, that dinner. We partook of the cold remains of a joint which one of ourselves had made a woeful attempt to cook the day before, and which now tasted anything but delicious. Miss Henniker was in her usual place, and as we sat with our eyes rigidly fixed on the plates before us, we were conscious of her glancing once or twice towards one and another of us, and then turning away to speak to Mr Ladislaw, who was also present. Except for the whispered conversation of these two not a word was uttered during the meal. Even Flanagan, when, in reaching the salt, he knocked over his water, did not receive the expected bad mark, but was left silently to mop up the spill as best he could.

It was a terrible meal, and my anxiety about my friend Smith made it all the worse.

Dinner was over, and we were descending to afternoon cla.s.s in Mr Ladislaw's study, when the front door opened and Hawkesbury entered.

We could see he was taken aback and utterly astonished to see Mr Ladislaw and Miss Henniker at liberty and us once more at our old tasks.

For a moment his face looked concerned and doubtful, then, suddenly changing, it broke out into smiles as he ran up to Mr Ladislaw.

"Oh, Mr Ladislaw," cried he, "and Miss Henniker, I am so glad! I really couldn't bear to be in the school while they were treating you so shamefully!"

"Where have you been, Hawkesbury?" said Mr Ladislaw.

"Oh! I went out in hopes of being able to--"

"You have told no one of what has occurred?" said Mr Ladislaw, sternly.

"Oh, no!" said the smiling Hawkesbury; "I really went out because I couldn't bear to be in the school and be unable to do anything for you and Miss Henniker. I _am_ so glad you have got out!"

None of us had the spirit to protest. We could see that Hawkesbury's statement, and his expressed joy at their liberation, had gone down both with Mr Ladislaw and Miss Henniker--and at our expense, too; and yet we dared not expostulate or do ourselves justice.

Afternoon school went on, and still no Smith appeared. Was he locked up in the coal-hole or in one of the attics up stairs? I wondered; or had he been given into custody, or what? No solution came to the mystery all that afternoon or evening. We worked silently on, conscious that the Henniker's eyes were upon us, but aware that she neither spoke nor interfered with us.

Bedtime came at last, and, in strange trouble and anxiety, I went up. I almost made up my mind to ask Mr Hashford or Mr Ladislaw what had become of Smith, but I could not screw my courage up to the pitch.

As I was undressing, Hawkesbury came near me and whispered, "Where is Smith?"

I vouchsafed no reply. I had been used to give Hawkesbury credit for good intentions, but I had had my confidence shaken by that day's events.

"Don't be cross with me, Batchelor," said he; "I really don't deserve it."

"Why did you desert and leave us all in the lurch?" growled I.

"I did not mean to do it," said he, very meekly; "but really, when I woke this morning I felt I was doing wrong, Batchelor, and could not bear to stay in and stand by while Mr Ladislaw and Miss Henniker were kept shut up. That's really the reason, and I thought it would be kinder of me to keep out of the way and not spoil your fun. Smith quite misunderstood me, he did really."

"Why didn't you say you wouldn't join before we began?" I asked.

"Why, because you know, Batchelor, I was in a bad frame of mind then, and was angry. But I tried hard to forgive, and I blame myself very much that I even seemed to agree. You mustn't think too hardly of me, Batchelor."

I said nothing, but went on undressing, more perplexed than ever to know what to think. Hawkesbury, after a warm "Good-night," left me, and I was thankful, at any rate, for the prospect of a few hours' sleep and forgetfulness.

I was just getting into bed, and had turned back the clothes to do so, when I suddenly caught sight of a sc.r.a.p of paper appearing from under my pillow.

I first supposed it must be some remnant of last night's sports, but, on taking it out, found that it was a note carefully rolled up and addressed to me in Smith's well-known hand.

With eager haste I unfolded it and read, "I'm expelled. Good-bye.

Write `J.,' Post-Office, Packworth."

Expelled! sent off at an hour's notice, without even a word of good-bye!

My first sensations were selfish, and as I curled myself up in bed, with his note fast in my hand, I felt utterly wretched, to know that my only friend, the only comfort I had at Stonebridge House, had been taken away. What should I do without him?

Expelled! Where had he gone to, then? Packworth, I knew, was a large town about ten miles from Brownstroke, where my uncle now and then went on business. Did Jack live there, then? And if he did, why had he never told me? At any rate, I could get over and see him in the holidays. "Write to me." How was that possible here? unless, indeed-- unless I could smuggle the letter into the post. Poor Jack expelled!

Why should he be expelled more than any of us, except Hawkesbury? What a fury he had been in with Hawkesbury that very morning! Certainly Hawkesbury was aggravating. Strange that my friend Smith and Hawkesbury--that my friend Jack--that Jack and Hawk--

And here, in a piteous muddle of mind and spirit, I fell asleep.

I remained another year at Stonebridge House after Jack Smith had been expelled. We did not get a single holiday during that period, so that my scheme of walking over from Brownstroke, and finding him out at Packworth, never came off. And I only contrived to write to him once.

That was the first time, the Sunday after he had left, when the Henniker saw me dropping my letter into the post. After that I was closely watched, and I need hardly say, if Jack ever wrote to me, I never got his letter. Still I cherished the memory of my friend, and even when Stonebridge House was most desolate, found some consolation in feeling pretty sure I had a friend somewhere, which is more than every one can say.

I made steady progress with my arithmetic and other studies during the year, thanks to Mr Hashford, who, good fellow that he was, took special pains with me, so that at the end of the year I was p.r.o.nounced competent to take a situation as an office-boy or junior clerk, or any like post to which my amiable uncle might destine me.

I was not sorry to leave Stonebridge House, as you may guess. During the last year, certainly, things were better than they had been. No reference was made on any occasion, either in public or in private, to the great rebellion of that summer. The Henniker never quite got over the shake she had had when we rose in arms against her, and Mr Ladislaw appeared proportionately subdued, so on the whole things were rather more tolerable. And for lack of my lost friend, I managed to improve the acquaintance of the good-natured Flanagan, besides retaining the favour of the smiling Hawkesbury.

So pa.s.sed another year, at the end of which I found myself a wiser and a sadder boy, with my back turned at length on Stonebridge House, and my face towards the wide, wide world.

CHAPTER NINE.

HOW I REPLIED TO AN ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT AND WAITED FOR THE ANSWER.

The day that witnessed my departure from Stonebridge House found me, I am bound to confess, very little improved by my year or two's residence under that dull roof. I do not blame it all on the school, or even on Miss Henniker, depressing as both were.

There is no reason why, even at a school for backward and troublesome boys, a fellow shouldn't improve, if he gave his mind to it. But that is just where I failed. I didn't give my mind to it. In fact, I made up my mind it was no use trying to improve, and therefore didn't try.

The consequence was, that after Jack Smith left, I cast in my lot with the rest of the backward and troublesome boys, and lost all ambition to be much better than the rest of them.

Flanagan, the fellow I liked best, was always good-humoured and lively, but I'm not sure that he would have been called a boy of good principles. At any rate, he never professed to be particularly ambitious in any such way, and in that respect was very different from Hawkesbury, who, by the time he left Stonebridge House, six months before me, to go to a big public school, had quite impressed me with the worth of his character.

But this is a digression. As I was saying, I left Stonebridge House a good deal wilder, and more rackety, and more sophisticated, than I had entered it two years before. However, I left it also with considerably more knowledge of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division; and that in my uncle's eye appeared to be of far more moment than my moral condition.

"Fred," he said to me the day after I had got home, and after I had returned from a triumphant march through Brownstroke, to show myself off to my old comrades generally, and Cad Prog in particular--"Fred," said my uncle, "I am going to send you to London."

"To London!" cried I, not knowing exactly whether to be delighted, or astonished, or alarmed, or all three--"to London."

"Yes. You must get a situation, and do something to earn your living."

I ruminated over this announcement, and my uncle continued, "You are old enough to provide for yourself, and I expect you to do so."

There was a pause, at the end of which, for lack of any better remark, I said, "Yes."

"The sooner you start the better," continued my uncle. "I have marked a few advertis.e.m.e.nts in that pile of newspapers," added he, pointing to a dozen or so of papers on his table. "You had better take them and look through them, and tell me if you see anything that would suit you."