The latter did not appear to be in a happy frame of mind.

“How do you do, Mr. Roscoe?” he said.

“Very well,” answered Mr. Roscoe, briefly.  “Mr. Smith, I wish to see my ward.”

“I am sorry you cannot see him, Mr. Roscoe.”

“Cannot see him!  Why not?”

“Because he has left the institute.”

Allan Roscoe frowned.

“Why has he left?” he asked.

“He has left against my will.  I think he has been influenced by an usher in my employ who has behaved very ungratefully.  I took him, sir, when he was in danger of starving, and now he leaves me at a day’s notice, after doing all he can to break up my school.”

“I feel no particular interest in your usher,” said Allan Roscoe, coldly.  “I wish to obtain information about the boy I placed under your charge.  Do you know where he has gone?”

“No; he did not tell me,” answered the principal.

“You wrote me that he had been detected in stealing a wallet!”

“Yes,” answered Socrates, embarrassed.  “Appearances were very much against him.”

“Do you still think he took it?”

“I may have been mistaken,” answered Mr. Smith, nervously, for he began to see that the course he had been pursuing was a very unwise one.

“Hector has written me, inclosing a statement signed by two of his schoolfellows, implicating your own nephew, and he charges that you made the charge against him out of partiality for the same.”

“There is considerable prejudice against my nephew,” said Socrates.

“And for very good reasons, I should judge,” said Allan Roscoe, severely.  “Hector describes him as an outrageous bully and tyrant.  I am surprised, Mr. Smith, that you should have taken his part.”

Now, Socrates had already had a stormy interview with his nephew.  Though partial to Jim, and not caring whether or not he bullied the other boys, as soon as he came to see that Jim’s presence was endangering the school, he reprimanded him severely.  He cared more for himself—­for number one—­than for anyone else in the universe.  He had been exceedingly disturbed by receiving letters from the fathers of Wilkins and Ben Platt, and two other fathers, giving notice that they should remove their sons at the end of the term, and demanding, in the meantime, that his nephew should be sent away forthwith.

And now Allan Roscoe, whom he had hoped would side with him, had also turned against him.  Then he had lost the services of a competent usher, whom he got cheaper than he could secure any suitable successor, and, altogether, things seemed all going against him.

Moreover, Jim, who had been the occasion of all the trouble, had answered him impudently, and Socrates felt that he had been badly used.  As to his own agency in the matter, he did not give much thought to that.

“My nephew is going to leave the school, Mr. Roscoe,” said Socrates, half-apologetically.