"Oh! I see, sir," said Mr Hippetts importantly. "Go back, Pillett. I have the very boy. Gloog!"

Pillett went back, and furtively held up his fist at triumphant Gloog, who came out panting as if he had just been running fast, and as soon as he had made the regulation bow, he, from old force of habit, wiped his nose on his cuff.

"No, no, no, no," cried the doctor, without giving the lad a second glance, the first at his low, narrow forehead and cunning cast of features being quite enough.

"But this is an admirably behaved boy, sir," protested Mr Hippetts.

"Mr Sibery here can speak very highly of his qualifications."

"Oh yes, sir," put in the schoolmaster with a severe smile and a distant bow, for he felt annoyed at not being consulted.

"Yes, yes," said the doctor; "but not my style of boy."

"Might I suggest one, sir!" said Mr Sibery deferentially, as he glanced at the king who reigned over the whole building.

"To be sure," said the doctor. "You try."

Mr Hippetts frowned, and Mr Sibery wished he had not spoken; but the dark look on the master's brow gave place to an air of triumph as the schoolmaster introduced seven boys, one after the other, to all of whom the visitor gave a decided negative.

"Seems a strange thing," he said, "that out of three hundred boys you cannot show one I like."

"But all these are excellent lads, sir," said the master deprecatingly.

"Humph!"

"Best of characters."

"Humph!"

"Our own training, sir. Mr Sibery has spared no pains, and I have watched over the boys' morals."

"Yes, I dare say. Of course. Here, what boy's that?"

He pointed with his cane to a pair of round blue eyes, quite at the back.

"That, sir--that lame boy!"

"No, no; that young quicksilver customer with the curly poll."

"Oh! that, sir! He wouldn't do," cried the two masters almost in a breath.

"How do you know!" said the doctor tartly.

"Very bad boy indeed, sir, I'm sorry to say," said the schoolmaster.

"Yes, sir; regular young imp; so full of mischief that he corrupts the other boys. Can't say a word in his favour; and, besides, he's too young."

"How old?"

"About eleven, sir."

"Humph! Trot him out."

"Obed Coleby," said the master in a severe voice.

"Coleby, eh?"

"Yes, sir. Son of a miserable tramp who died some years ago in the House. No name with him, so we called him after the town."

"Humph!" said the doctor, as the little fellow came, full of eagerness and excitement, after kicking at Pillett, who put out a leg to hinder his advance.

The doctor frowned, and gazed sternly at the boy, taking in carefully his handsome, animated face, large blue eyes, curly yellow hair, and open forehead: not that his hair had much opportunity for curling--the workhouse barber stopped that.

The boy's face was as white as those of his companions, but it did not seem depressed and inanimate, for, though it was thin and white, his mouth was rosy and well-curved, and the slightly parted lips showed his pearly white teeth.

"Humph!" said the doctor, as the bright eyes gazed boldly into his.

"Where's your bow, sir?" said the master sternly.

"Oh! I forgot," said the boy quickly; and he made up for his lapse by bowing first with one and then the other hand.

"A sad young pickle," said the master. "Most hopeless case, sir.

Constantly being punished."

"Humph! You young rascal!" said the doctor sternly. "How dare you be a naughty boy!"

The little fellow wrinkled his white forehead, and glanced at the schoolmaster, and then at Mr Hippetts, before looking back at the doctor.

"I d'know," he said, in a puzzled way.

"You don't know, sir!"

"No. I'm allus cotching it."

"Say _sir_, boy," cried the master.

"Allus cotching of it, sir, and it don't do me no good."

"Really, Dr Grayson--"

"Wait a bit, Mr Hippetts," said the doctor more graciously. "Let me question the boy."

"Certainly, sir. But he has a very bad record."

"Humph! Tells the truth, though," said the doctor. "Here, sir, what's your name?"

"Obed Coleby."

"_Sir_!" cried the master.