He often wished that Master Arthur could get very rich, and take him for his man-servant; he thought he should like to brush his clothes and take care of his sticks.

He had a great interest in the growth of his moustache and whiskers.

For some time past Master Arthur had had a trick of pulling at his upper lip whilst he was teaching; which occasionally provoked a whisper of "Moostarch, guvernor!" between two unruly members of his class; but never till to-night had Bill seen anything in that line which answered his expectations.

Now, however, as he stood before the young gentleman, the fire-light fell on such a distinct growth of hair, that Bill's interest became absorbed to the exclusion of all but the most perfunctory attention to the lesson on hand.

Would Master Arthur grow a beard?
Would his moustache be short like the pictures of Prince Albert, or long and pointed like that of some other great man whose portrait he had seen in the papers?
He was calculating on the probable effect of either style, when the order was given to put away books, and then the thought which had been for a time diverted came back again--his walk home.
Poor Bill! his fears returned with double force from having been for awhile forgotten.