seen him in that state, and that they were possessed by a dread of his relapsing.
One winter day when a slight fall of snow was feathering the sills and frames of the schoolroom windows, he stood at his blackboard, crayon in hand, about to commence with a class; when, reading in the countenances of those boys that there was something wrong, and that they seemed in alarm for him, he turned his eyes to the door towards which they faced. He then saw a slouching man of forbidding appearance standing in the midst of the school, with a bundle under his arm; and saw that it was Riderhood.
He sat down on a stool which one of his boys put for him, and he had a passing knowledge that he was in danger of falling, and that his face was becoming distorted. But, the fit went off for that time, and he wiped his mouth, and stood up again.
“Beg your pardon, governor! By your leave!” said Riderhood, knuckling his forehead, with a chuckle and a leer. “What place may this be?”
“This is a school.”
“Where young folks learns wot’s right?” said Riderhood, gravely nodding. “Beg your pardon, governor! By your leave! But who teaches this school?”
“I do.”
“You’re the master, are you, learned governor?”
“Yes. I am the master.”
“And a lovely thing it must be,” said Riderhood, “fur to learn young folks wot’s right, and fur to know wot they know wot you do it. Beg your