"Horrid little Owenite saint." "Saint!--sneak, you mean.

I'll teach him," growled Pietrie, and jumping up, he belabored Wright's head with the Latin grammar out of which he had just been cribbing.
The whole room was in confusion and hubbub, during which Wright sat stock still, quietly enduring without bowing to the storm.
Only one boy sympathised with him, but he did so deeply--poor little penitent Vernon.

He felt his position hard because Wright had alluded so prominently to him, and he knew how much he must be misconstrued, but he had his brother's spirit, and would not shrink.

Amid the tumult he got up in his seat, and they heard his pleasant, childish voice saying boldly, "I hope Wright won't tell; but he's the best fellow in the room, and cribbing _is_ a shame, as he says." What notice would have been taken of this speech is doubtful, for at the critical moment Mr.Gordon reappeared, and the whispered cave caused instantaneous quiet.
Poor Wright awaited with some dread the end of school; and many an angry kick and blow he got, though he disarmed malice by the spirit and heroism with which he endured them.

The news of his impudence spread like wildfire, and not five boys in the school approved of what he had done, while most of them were furious at his ill-judged threat of informing Mr.Gordon.There was a general agreement to thrash him after roll-call that afternoon.
Eric had lately taken a violent dislike to Wright, though he had been fond of him in better days.