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Why had he not been called-persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings.

Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy.

The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast.

There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart.

He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths.

After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so.

His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more.

This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body.

He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence.

He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary.

He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles.

Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go.

His elbow was pressing against some hard substance.

After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh.

It was in a paper.

He unrolled it.

A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke.

It was his brass andiron knob!

This final feather broke the camel's back.

CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news.

No need of the as yet un-dreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed.

Of course the schoolmaster gave holi-day for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not.

CHAPTER XI

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