“I say, keeper,” said he meekly, “let me go for two bob?”

“Not for twenty neither,” grunts his persecutor.

And so they sat on till long past second calling-over, and the sun came slanting in through the willow-branches, and telling of locking-up near at hand.

“I’m coming down, keeper,” said Tom at last, with a sigh, fairly tired out.  “Now what are you going to do?”

“Walk ’ee up to School, and give ’ee over to the Doctor; them’s my orders,” says Velveteens, knocking the ashes out of his fourth pipe, and standing up and shaking himself.

“Very good,” said Tom; “but hands off, you know.  I’ll go with you quietly, so no collaring or that sort of thing.”

Keeper looked at him a minute.  “Werry good,” said he at last.  And so Tom descended, and wended his way drearily by the side of the keeper, up to the Schoolhouse, where they arrived just at locking-up.  As they passed the School-gates, the Tadpole and several others who were standing there caught the state of things, and rushed out, crying, “Rescue!” But Tom shook his head; so they only followed to the Doctor’s gate, and went back sorely puzzled.

How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from the last time that Tom was up there, as the keeper told the story, not omitting to state how Tom had called him blackguard names.  “Indeed, sir,” broke in the culprit, “it was only Velveteens.”  The Doctor only asked one question.

“You know the rule about the banks, Brown?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then wait for me to-morrow, after first lesson.”

“I thought so,” muttered Tom.

“And about the rod, sir?” went on the keeper.  “Master’s told we as we might have all the rods—­”

“Oh, please, sir,” broke in Tom, “the rod isn’t mine.”

The Doctor looked puzzled; but the keeper, who was a good-hearted fellow, and melted at Tom’s evident distress, gave up his claim.  Tom was flogged next morning, and a few days afterwards met Velveteens, and presented him with half a crown for giving up the rod claim, and they became sworn friends; and I regret to say that Tom had many more fish from under the willow that May-fly season, and was never caught again by Velveteens.

It wasn’t three weeks before Tom, and now East by his side, were again in the awful presence.  This time, however, the Doctor was not so terrible.  A few days before, they had been fagged at fives to fetch the balls that went off the court.  While standing watching the game, they saw five or six nearly new balls hit on the top of the School.  “I say, Tom,” said East, when they were dismissed, “couldn’t we get those balls somehow?”

“Let’s try, anyhow.”