My introduction to Low Heath at large next day turned out to be a far less formidable affair than I had antic.i.p.ated. I had long since given up the notion that the whole school would rise at my appearance and salute me. I had even ceased to expect that they would all stare and make remarks. But I was hardly prepared for the absolute indifference with which I was permitted to answer to my name at "Great register."

Not a soul took any notice of me, even when Dr England explained to me publicly that as there were already three other Joneses in the School, I would please answer in future to the t.i.tle of Jones iv., which I humbly promised to do. Brown, I was not sorry to hear, was to be designated as Brown iii. for similar reasons.

The ceremony being over, the new boys were trooped up to the head master's library, and there told off to their respective forms with a few words of warning and encouragement. It surprised me that, in spite of my scholastic honours, I was entered in the same form as Brown. But on the whole I was more pleased than disappointed, for I loved my old comrade dearly, and after all, if he _was_ placed above his merits, it wasn't his fault.

"It's a pity you aren't a day boy," said he, as he walked across afterwards; "we could have larks together."

"It's a pity you aren't in the school," said I.

"Oh, our chaps say it's rather stale to be in the school. I don't see why your fellows should be looked down on, but they are."

"Pooh! you should hear our chaps talk about the day boys. Do you know, d.i.c.ky, I'm president of a club, a Philosophical Club; and day boys aren't eligible. I'm awfully sorry; I should have liked to have you in."

"That's just what I thought about the Urbans. They don't let in any fellow who's in the school--only day boys--they're obliged to draw the line somewhere, you know. Do you know Redwood, the captain, is a senior Urban?"

"I know. Our chaps say it's a soak for the school having a day boy for captain."

"Oh! _We_ don't think so! I say, do you see that chap there?"

The youth at whom he pointed was the friendly senior of whom I had inquired the way to bed last night.

"Rather; he's a Sharper. Why, and what about him?"

"He's a hot man, they say, and the most popular chap at Low Heath. He's captain of the Rifles."

"What's his name? Do you know?"

"Crofts, or Crofter, or something like that. What's up?"

He might well ask!

"Crofter!" exclaimed I. "My word, d.i.c.ky, I've been and done it!"

"Done what?"

"Why, I called him a beast yesterday."

"You did? You're getting on, Jones iv."

"No, without humbug, I did. I didn't know it was Crofter, and I told him Tempest thought he was a beast."

"If Tempest says so, he probably is," remarked the unemotional d.i.c.ky.

"But what's to become of me? How was I to know?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you'd better go and tell him you were mistaken."

"I don't like to. I say, what a downer he'll have on me! I half wish I was a day boy, after all."

"It's a pity you aren't. We've a jolly lot in the Urban Minors; quite a literary lot."

"Bother the Urban Minors!" said I, looking dismally after the retreating form of Crofter.

"It'll take you all your time to bother some of them. There's Flitwick, he's--"

"Hang Flitwick! Whatever am I to do, d.i.c.ky?"

"I wouldn't advise you to hang Flitwick. Oh, about that fellow Crofter!

Oh, it'll be all right. He's plenty else to think about."

It was poor comfort, but the best I could get, and our arrival at our cla.s.s room cut short further discussion on this most unfortunate incident.

But it weighed on my mind all day. When cla.s.s was over, I was summoned by my fellow "Philosophers" to come out into the playing fields; I went in fear and trembling, lest I should encounter Crofter. But he was nowhere to be seen.

My companions were evidently hand and glove with most of the juniors in the school, and I was favoured with a bewildering number of introductions, not always of the most gratifying kind.

"What have you got there, Trim? A tame monkey?" asked one gorgeous youth, whose cap bore the badge of Mr Selkirk's house.

"Not exactly," said Trimble; "haven't had time to tame him yet."

"What's his name?"

"Sarah. Allow me. Muskett--Sarah Jones; Jones--Silly Muskett. Now you know one another."

"He's only fooling about my name," said I; "it's Thomas."

"Oh, is it? Delighted to see you, Sarah Thomas."

And before I could put him right he was off, and I was led away by my rejoicing comrades.

"Look here, Trimble," said I, "it's time you knew my name by now."

Trimble laughed, as did the others. They all thought it was high time.

But everybody we met I was introduced to as Sarah.

"Awfully sorry," said Langrish, after the fourth or fifth offence.

"I've such a bad memory for names.--Well kicked, sir."

This exclamation was addressed, not to me, but to a senior who had just appeared on the scene, and was kicking about the practice football with a friend prior to a match which was evidently due.

It was a splendid kick, and the author of it was a splendid fellow-- brawny of limb and light of foot, with fair hair and clear blue eyes--as one might picture one of the Nors.e.m.e.n of the story-books. You could see by the way he moved, and the spirit he put even into this practice kicking, that he was a sportsman every inch of him; and his good-natured laugh, as he exchanged greetings with this and that arriving friend, proclaimed him, even before you heard him speak, as good a gentleman as he was an athlete.

"Redwood's in form to-day," said some one. "We'd better stop and see the play."

"Is that Redwood, the captain?" inquired I, in an awestruck way, of Warminster.

"Rather," was the reply, in a tone of pride which convinced me that Low Heath was proud of its chief, even though he had the misfortune to be a day boy.