On the morning following his encounters with Westby and with Collingwood, Irving as usual took charge of the Study.  The boys assembled; Irving rang the bell, reducing them to quiet; Dr. Davenport came in, mounted the platform, and took up the report book—­in which Irving had just finished transcribing his entries.

Dr. Davenport began reading in his clear, emphatic voice, “Out of bounds, Mason, Sterrett, Coyle, one sheet; late to study, Hart, McQuiston, Durfee, Stratton, Kane, half a sheet; tardy to breakfast—­” and so on.  None of the offenses were very serious; and the rector read them out rapidly.  But at last he paused a moment; and then, looking up from the book, he said, with grave distinctness, “Disorderly in class and insolent, Westby, three sheets; disorderly in dormitory and insolent, Collingwood, three sheets.”

He closed the book; a stir, a thrill of interest, ran round the room.  For a Sixth Former to be charged with such offenses and condemned to such punishment was rare:  for Collingwood, who was in a sense the leader of the school, to be so charged and punished was unprecedented.

Collingwood, sitting directly under the clock, and facing so many curious questioning eyes, turned red; Westby, standing by the door, looked at him and smiled.  At the same time, Dr. Davenport, closing the report-book, leaned towards Irving and said quietly in his ear,—­

“Mr. Upton, I should like to see you about those last two reports—­immediately after this study hour.”

Irving reddened; the rector’s manner was not approving.

Dr. Davenport descended from the platform and walked slowly down the aisle.  As he approached, he looked straight at Westby; and Westby returned the look steadily—­as if he was ashamed of nothing.

The rector passed through the doorway; the Sixth Form followed; the day’s work began.

CHAPTER V

MASTER TURNS PUPIL

The rector received Irving with a smile.  “Well,” he said, “I think you must be a believer in the maxim, ‘Hit hard and hit first.’  Would you mind telling me what was the trouble?”

“It wasn’t so much any one thing,” replied Irving.  “It was a culmination of little things.—­Oh, I suppose I started in wrong with the fellows somehow.”

He was silent for a moment, in dejection.

“A good many do that,” said Dr. Davenport.  “There would be small progress in the world if there never was any rectifying of false starts.”

“I can hardly help it if I look young,” said Irving.  “That’s one of my troubles.  I suppose I ought to avoid acting young.  I haven’t, altogether.  They call me Kiddy.”

“We get hardened to nicknames,” observed the rector.  “But often they’re affectionate.  At least I like to cherish that delusion with regard to mine; my legs have the same curve as Napoleon’s, and I have been known as ‘Old Hoopo’ for years.”