CHAPTER XII.
"He honoureth them that fear the Lord." Slowly, but surely, as the late autumn days came on, Tip was growing into a better place in the schoolroom, in the opinion of his teachers and his schoolmates.

In Mr.Burrows' school, ten was the perfect mark, and _x_ was the very lowest grade a boy could reach.

It had once been an everyday joke with Tip, that, being _x_, he must be perfect, because it said in the spelling-book that _x_ was ten.
But it had been a good many days since Tip had said "_x_;" the boys had ceased to be amazed when he answered "ten" in prompt, proud tone.
They were growing, many of them, to be surprised and sorry for him, when, in his days of failures, he answered, with drooped eyes and very red, ashamed face, "seven," or, it might be, "six." Though he was still anything but a good reader, no one could fail to see that he blundered less and less every day, and Mr.Burrows was growing patient with his blunders, growing helpful in his troubles.
The boys saw him working hard over his spelling-book, and few of them now had the meanness to laugh when a word passed him.
Mr.Burrows' tones were not so harsh to him as they used to be; and now-a-days, when he was accused of breaking rules, instead of being called up and unhesitatingly punished, his teacher, who grew every day less and less sure that he was at the bottom of all the mischief done, always gave him a chance to speak for himself, and was learning to believe him.
Oh yes! things were different, and were all the time growing more so.

Bob Turner saw this plainly: he began to find Tip a very stupid companion, and stayed away from school more afternoons than ever.
But poor Tip noticed the change less,--yes, much less than any of the others.

You don't know how hard it was for him.