TheNight-SchoolandtheSchoolmasterBartleMassey’swasoneofafewscatteredhousesontheedgeofacommon，whichwasdividedbytheroadtoTreddleston。AdamreacheditinaquarterofanhourafterleavingtheHallFarm；
andwhenhehadhishandonthedoor-latch，hecouldsee，throughthecurtainlesswindow，thattherewereeightornineheadsbendingoverthedesks，lightedbythindips。
Whenheentered，areadinglessonwasgoingforwardandBartleMasseymerelynodded，leavinghimtotakehisplacewherehepleased。Hehadnotcomeforthesakeofalessonto-night，andhismindwastoofullofpersonalmatters，toofullofthelasttwohourshehadpassedinHetty’spresence，forhimtoamusehimselfwithabooktillschoolwasover；sohesatdowninacornerandlookedonwithanabsentmind。ItwasasortofscenewhichAdamhadbeheldalmostweeklyforyears；heknewbyhearteveryarabesqueflourishintheframedspecimenofBartleMassey’shandwritingwhichhungovertheschoolmaster’shead，bywayofkeepingaloftyidealbeforethemindsofhispupils；heknewthebacksofallthebooksontheshelfrunningalongthewhitewashedwallabovethepegsfortheslates；heknewexactlyhowmanygrainsweregoneoutoftheearofIndiancornthathungfromoneoftherafters；hehadlongagoexhaustedtheresourcesofhisimaginationintryingtothinkhowthebunchofleatheryseaweedhadlookedandgrowninitsnativeelement；andfromtheplacewherehesat，hecouldmakenothingoftheoldmapofEnglandthathungagainsttheoppositewall，foragehadturneditofafineyellowbrown，somethinglikethatofawell-seasonedmeerschaum。
Thedramathatwasgoingonwasalmostasfamiliarasthescene，neverthelesshabithadnotmadehimindifferenttoit，andeveninhispresentself-absorbedmood，Adamfeltamomentarystirringoftheoldfellow-feeling，ashelookedattheroughmenpainfullyholdingpenorpencilwiththeircrampedhands，orhumblylabouringthroughtheirreadinglesson。
Thereadingclassnowseatedontheforminfrontoftheschoolmaster’sdeskconsistedofthethreemostbackwardpupils。