Meanwhile, Jim Smith and his schoolfellows were amusing themselves in the playground.

“Where’s that new fellow?” asked Jim, looking back to see whether he had come out.

“He didn’t come out,” said Bates.

Jim nodded his head vigorously: 

“Just as I expected,” he said.  “He knows where he is well off.”

“Do you think he was afraid to come?” asked Bates.

“To be sure he was.  He knew what to expect.”

“Are you going to thrash him?” asked Johnson.

“I should say I might.”

“He’s a very good Latin scholar,” remarked Wilkins.

“He thinks he is!” sneered Jim.

“So Mr. Crabb appears to think.”

“That for old Crabb!” said Jim, contemptuously, snapping his fingers.  “He don’t know much himself.  I’ve caught him in plenty of mistakes.”

This was certainly very amusing, considering Smith’s absolute ignorance of even the Latin rudiments, but the boys around him did not venture to contradict him.

“But it don’t make any difference whether he knows Latin or not,” proceeded Jim.  “He has been impudent to me, and he shall suffer for it.  I was hoping to get a chance at him this recess, but it’ll keep.”

“You might spoil his appetite for dinner,” said Bates, who was rather a toady to Jim.

“That’s just exactly what I expect to do; at any rate, for supper.  I’ve got to have a reckoning with that young muff.”

The recess lasted fifteen minutes.  At the end of that time the schoolbell rang, and the boys trooped back into the schoolroom.

Hector sat at his desk looking tranquil and at ease.  He alone seemed unaware of the fate that was destined for him.

CHAPTER X.

Dinner at Smith institute.

At twelve o’clock the morning session closed.  Then came an intermission of an hour, during which the day scholars either ate lunch brought with them, or went to their homes in the village to partake of a warm repast.

At ten minutes past twelve, a red-armed servant girl made her appearance at the back door looking out on the playground, and rang a huge dinner bell.  The boys dropped their games, and made what haste they could to the dining room.

“Now for a feast!” said Wilkins to Hector, significantly.

“Does Mr. Smith furnish good board?” asked Hector, for he felt the hunger of a healthy boy who had taken an early breakfast.

“Good grub?” said Wilkins, making a face.  “Wait till you see.  Old Sock isn’t going to ruin himself providing his pupils with the delicacies of the season.”

“I’m sorry for that.  I am confoundedly hungry.”

“Hungry!” exclaimed Wilkins.  “I’ve been I hungry ever since I came here.”

“Is it as bad as that?” asked Hector, rather alarmed.

“I should say so.  I haven’t had a square meal—­what I call a square meal—­for four weeks, and that’s just the time since I left home.”