"What an awful ass I've been, sir!"
"I don't know quite about the ass, but you've certainly not been an epitome of all that's wise this term. It was on that very subject that I came here to have a word with you before we go for the holidays."
Gus looked blankly into the grate.
"This exhibition of yours, Todd, in the examination is just the answer you might expect to the problem you've set yourself. 'How can I get something of value by doing nothing for it?' I must say... etc." Taylor spoke very much to the point to Todd for about half an hour, taking the ribs out of Gus's conceit one by one, until he felt very much like a damp, damaged gamp, and about as helpless. One by one he took him through the catalogue of the aimless, stupid, footling performances in the term, and Gus blankly wondered how the dickens Taylor knew quite so much of his doings, He felt that the house master was not a bad imitation of Corker on a flaying expedition. I must say that Taylor's performance was a considerable trifle above the average "beak's wigging," but the sting of his discourse was in the tail. "Now, Todd, would you like me to ask Dr. Moore to transfer you to some other house, where your very intimate friends will not absorb so much of your time?"
Todd blushed purple at this very broad hint.
"I'd rather stay where I am; I am not quite an incapable, sir."
"No; I don't think you are—not quite. Dr. Moore, however, is somewhat out of patience with you, and proposes drastic measures."
"Home?" inquired Todd, with gloomy conviction.
"Yes," said the house master. "Dr. Moore has written your father. But you are coming back next term, when you will have the chance of showing that that awful performance in the Exhibition is not your true form. I hope you'll take it."
Todd said bitterly, "I will, sir."