"
"Thank you, Mr. Smith," answered Mr. Roscoe, with an inward shudder;
"but I have important engagements that call me away immediately."
"Then we must reluctantly take leave of you. I hope you will feel
easy about your nephew--"
"My ward," corrected Allan Roscoe.
"I beg your pardon--I should have remembered--your ward."
"I leave him, with confidence, in your hands, my dear sir."
So Allan Roscoe took his leave.
Let us look in upon the aspiring and ambitious scholars, after Mr.
Smith left them in charge of the ushers.
Jim Smith signalized his devotion to study by producing an apple
core, and throwing it with such skillful aim that it struck Mr.
Crabb in the back of the head.
The usher turned quickly, his face flushed with wild indignation.
"Who threw that missile?" he asked, in a vexed tone.
Of course no one answered.
"I hope no personal disrespect was intended," continued the usher.
Again no answer.
"Does anyone know who threw it?" asked Mr. Crabb.
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