It was like a dream--and, after all, not a very nice dream.
But we were recalled to ourselves when presently, along the passage outside our door, there resounded a footstep which instinct told us belonged to the Henniker.

Not much chance of feeling comfortable with that sound in one's ears! But to our surprise and comfort it passed on and descended the stairs.
It was like a reprieve to convicted felons.
Class went on, and the clock was getting on to twelve--the usual hour for a break--when the door opened, and Mr Ladislaw put in his head and said, "Smith, will you step down to my study?
Mr Hashford, the mid-day bell will not ring till one to-day." Smith solemnly followed the master from the room, and for another hour we worked in class--one of us, at any rate--feeling very anxious and not a little uneasy.
When the bell did ring, and we went down stairs, not knowing exactly what was to become of us, my first thought was, what had become of Smith?
He was not in the playground, where we wandered about listlessly for a quarter of an hour before dinner, nor was he to be seen when presently we assembled in the memorable parlour for our mid-day repast.
It was not a very grand meal, that dinner.

We partook of the cold remains of a joint which one of ourselves had made a woeful attempt to cook the day before, and which now tasted anything but delicious.

Miss Henniker was in her usual place, and as we sat with our eyes rigidly fixed on the plates before us, we were conscious of her glancing once or twice towards one and another of us, and then turning away to speak to Mr Ladislaw, who was also present.

Except for the whispered conversation of these two not a word was uttered during the meal.