“Very likely!” answered Jim, who was glad to believe anything derogatory to Hector.

“What are you going to do about it, uncle?”

“I shall bring the matter before the school.  I will disgrace the boy publicly,” answered Socrates Smith, sternly.  “He deserves the exposure.”

“Aha, Master Roscoe!” said Jim, gleefully, to himself; “I rather think I shall get even with you, and that very soon.”

CHAPTER XIX.

A dramatic scene.

It was generally after vespers that Mr. Smith communicated to the school anything which he desired to call to their attention.  This was to be the occasion of bringing our hero into disgrace.

The boys assembled, most of them quite ignorant that anything exceptional was to occur.  Hector himself, the person chiefly interested, was entirely unconscious that he was to be made “a shining mark” for the arrows of suspicion and obloquy.  If he had noticed the peculiar and triumphantly malicious looks with which Jim Smith, the bully and tyrant, whom he had humiliated and deposed, regarded him, he might have been led to infer that some misfortune was in store for him.  But these looks he did not chance to notice.

There were two other boys, however, who did notice them.  These were Ben Platt and Wil-kins, who had very good reasons, as we know, for doing so.

“I believe old Sock is going to pitch into Roscoe at vespers,” said Ben, in a whisper, to his roommate.

“So do I. There’s a look about him like that of a tiger about to pounce on his prey.”

“Or a cat with murderous designs on a mouse.”

“We must expose the whole thing.”

“Of course.”

“Won’t Jim be mad?”

“Let him!  He won’t dare to thrash us while Roscoe is round.”

There was, indeed, about Socrates Smith an air of mystery, portentous and suggestive.  He looked like one meditating a coup d’etat, or, perhaps, it might better be said, a coup de main, as the hand is with schoolmasters, generally, the instrument of attack.

When the proper time arrived, Mr. Smith cleared his throat, as he always did before beginning to speak.

“Boys,” he said, “I have an important, and I may say, a painful, communication to make to you.”

All the boys looked at each other in curiosity, except the three who were already in the secret.

“You know, boys,” continued Socrates, “how proud I am of this institute, how zealous I am for its good reputation, how unwearied I am in my efforts for your progress and welfare.”

Mr. Smith’s unwearied efforts were largely in the line of making out and receipting bills for tuition, and it may be said that this was to him by far the most agreeable of the duties he undertook to perform.

“I have been proud of my pupils,” continued the principal, “and it has given me pleasure to reflect that you all reflected credit, more or less, upon my teaching.  I have, also, sought to form your manners, to train you to fill the positions which Providence may have in store for you.  In a word, while from time to time you may have indulged in little escapades, slightly-culpable, I have felt that you were all gentlemen.”