"And if you stood there conceitedly flattering yourself that you were Number One, would it not be wrong?"
"Yes," he whispered, and his mouth quivered.
"You are still attached to me, Ovind?"
"Yes." He looked up for the first time.
"Then I must tell you it was I who had your number placed low down; because I care for you so much, Ovind."
The old schoolmaster looked at him, blinked a few times, and the tears ran quickly down.
"You have not anything against me for it?"
"No." He looked up brightly though his voice trembled.
"My dear child, I will watch over you as long as I live."
He waited for him till he had gathered his books together, and then said he would go home with him. They went slowly along: at first Ovind was silent, battling with himself, but by degrees he overcame. He was convinced that that which had come to pass was the best that could have happened, and, before he reached home, this belief was so strong, that he thanked God, and told the schoolmaster so.