This little protest stood me in good stead. It put an end to all direct aspersions on my s.e.x, although it was a long while before I was destined to hear the last of delicate insinuations on the topic. And it advanced me very considerably in favour with the four whose noses I had not been fortunate enough to engage.

"Look here; stop fooling, you chaps," said one of them, when in due time Master Trimble was permitted to regain his feet. "This new kid had better make up our sixth man here. No other f.a.ggery would be likely to take him, so we may as well."

I concluded from this remark that the juniors of Mr Sharpe's house were permitted to herd together in half dozens; and on the whole I was disposed rather to bear the ills I had than fly to others I knew not of.

"I don't mind," said I, "if you let me be."

"Who wants to touch you with a pair of tongs? You may as well pull in with us, and help us kick the others. It'll be a change after the girls' school."

"I _wasn't_ at a girls' school," said I, "I told you. All I did was to coach with one of the teachers."

"About the same thing, I fancy," said Trimble, blowing his outraged nose somewhat defiantly, "Sarah!"

"If you call me Sarah again," said I hotly, "I'll pull your nose again."

"All right: Miss Jones, then."

"No, not Miss; just Jones."

"All serene, just Jones, then shut up; stick on your lavender gloves, and keep your hair on."

There was a general laugh at this which vastly solaced the aggrieved Trimble, and encouraged him to refer jocularly to my late hat and boots, topics which I had not the spirit to resent.

As soon as these personal matters were disposed of, I was tacitly admitted as a member of the honourable f.a.ggery, and invited to express my opinion on a matter which had been engaging the attention of the fraternity before I arrived.

"We were thinking," said my late travelling companion, whom his friends addressed as Langrish, "that it would be a score to get up a Philosophical Society in the school. What do you say?"

"What to do?" I ventured to ask.

"Oh, discussions, and picnics, and larks. What do you suppose we _should_ do? There's a senior club of the kind already. They go in for dry rot--science and history, and that sort of thing. Awful slow, and n.o.body knows what he's talking about. I flatter myself _we_ should."

"We ought to draw up some rules, oughtn't we?" said Trimble.

"Rather--forge ahead."

Whereupon we crowded solemnly round the small table and put our heads together.

One of the party, by the way, answering to the name of Purkis, appeared to be the leading spirit, and made the most valuable suggestions.

"Rule 1," dictated he, "That this club be called the Low Heathen Conversation Club."

"Hold on," said Trimble; "you've got club coming twice in the same sentence. Bad grammar."

"Besides, I thought there was to be something about philosophy,"

suggested Langrish.

"And keeping out the day cads," said Warminster, another of the party.

"Of course, if you make the rule long enough," said Purkis, with lofty contempt, "you can get something in it about the man in the moon."

"But," said I, thinking to make a little joke, just to show I had no ill-feeling, "we don't want him in the club, do we?"

"No," said Langrish, who had evidently been on the look-out for his chance; "no more do we want pretty Sarah's washerwoman; do we, you chaps?"

I subsided gracefully. The time was not yet ripe, evidently, for me to a.s.sert myself.

"I tell you what," said Warminster; "what's the use of every one making each rule? Let old Purkis make the first, and I'll make the second, and Langrish the third, and so on. It will be ever so much quicker, and give each chap a fair innings."

It seemed a good idea, and as it allowed Purkis's rule to stand unchallenged, he acquiesced.

So in due time the following wonderful code of rules was drawn up and adopted--

1. That this club be called the Low Heath Conversation Club. (Purkis.)

2. That the object of the club be and are periodical picnics and meetings for the discussion of philosophy, etcetera. (Warminster.)

There was some debate as to whether the ninth word should be "is" or "are." But "are," as agreeing with the plural, was carried by a large majority.

3. That each member bring his own grub, _alias_ provisions. (Trimble.)

4. That no day boy be eligible on to the club. (Langrish.)

5. That any member breaking the rules is hereby expelled. (c.o.xhead.)

6. That the subscription be two shillings a term, payable in advance.

(Jones.)

Warminster was anxious for consistency's sake to add the words "and are"

after "be," but was overruled.

After which we honourably drew lots for the various posts of emolument and honour in connection with the club.

To my surprise I was drawn for president. At first I was disposed to disclaim the honour on account of my youth and inexperience. But my fellow-Philosophers a.s.sured me that was no excuse, and that my name would undoubtedly "draw." I did not exactly see how, but they were probably better judges than I; and perhaps as an exhib--

No, I was bound to keep that dark. At any rate, it would be a nice thing to be able to write home to my mother, that on the day of my arrival I had been appointed president of the Philosophical Conversation Club, with a right to add the initials P.L.H.C.C. after my name. It sounded well, and would give me a better footing in Low Heath than my tan boots.

Langrish was drawn for treasurer, and Purkis for secretary; while, to obviate any cause for jealousy, Trimble was selected as auditor, Warminster as librarian, and c.o.xhead as registrar.

A levy of subscriptions was made forthwith by the treasurer, and the secretary was ordered to expend part of the amount in a handbill setting forth the object and _personnel_ of the society, for distribution through the school. The auditor undertook to check the printer's bill, the librarian to keep a copy of the doc.u.ment among the archives of the club, and the registrar to prepare a book for entering the names of the new members. Altogether it was a most businesslike proceeding, and one which reflected, as it seemed to me, great credit on the young life of Low Heath.

After this, a peremptory summons from the bell dismissed us precipitately to bed. I had the indignity of being conducted to my cubicle by Mrs Smiley, who had the bad taste to adjure me in the hearing of my comrades to behave myself like a good boy and go to sleep directly the lights were out. This was not altogether easy, for my cubicle happened to be between those of Trimble and Langrish, and the part.i.tions were not particularly high. I was, indeed, allowed to undress and say my prayers without interference, which was more than I had hoped for. But no sooner was I in bed, and lights out, than I was favoured with all sorts of missiles pitched over the part.i.tions on either side with extraordinary accuracy. A book from Langrish hit me on the ear, and a wet sponge from Trimble moistened my cheek. And when I sought shelter under the sheets, the b.u.t.t-end of a fishing-rod in the ribs drew me from my hiding-place, and a clever cast with a hooked pin by Langrish relieved me of my outer covering altogether. The footsteps of the monitor on duty deprived me of the privilege of making an audible protest. All I could do was to send Trimble's sponge quietly over to Langrish, and Langrish's book across to Trimble, and, as well as I was able, recover my abstracted sheet with the aid of the rod. It took a long time, and laid me open to dire penalties for disturbing the public peace. But it had to be done, and fortunately for me a row at the other end of the room called the monitor away in the nick of time.

When he returned, all was still, and I was dreaming that Mr Evans was selling a pair of second-hand six-b.u.t.toned lavender gloves to my mother in the hall of Mr Sharpe's house.

CHAPTER TEN.

SPECIAL SERVICE.