Gerald was highly indignant. It was insufferable to be so spoken to and treated by the son of the man who supplied his uncle with meat. He wondered if Rabjohns knew that Mr. Bailey was one of his father's customers; he hardly thought it possible he could be aware of the fact. Whilst he was still looking angry and red in the face, he saw Gilbert Mickle at a little distance, leaning on his crutches, watching him with evident amusement. Gerald felt humiliated at the sight of the sarcastic smile on Gilbert's lips, but he could not resist the temptation of speaking to some one he knew, so he strolled up to the lame boy and commenced a conversation. "I'm in the same form as Tom," he informed Gilbert. "Are you?" Gilbert said, apparently not interested. "How do you like Rabjohns?" he asked, after a slight pause. "I don't like him at all. I think he's an impertinent cad." "Oh no! He's not a bad sort—one of the rough-and-ready kind, you know. He's all right, in his way—though it may not be your way or mine—and so's Higgs. That's Higgs talking to Rabjohns now." "I see. Who's he?" "The son of Higgs the stationer." "Are most of the boys shopkeepers' sons?" "A great many of them are. This is a public school, and open to any one. You'll soon find your proper level here." Gerald did not quite understand what his companion meant, but somehow the remark did not please him. "I advise you to keep in with Rabjohns," Gilbert proceeded carelessly; "he's one of the biggest boys in the school, and it's better for a youngster like you to have him for a friend than not." Gerald, who had no intention of being on friendly terms with a butcher's son, made no reply. At that moment Reginald Hope passed by, and Gerald called to him eagerly. "Oh, Hope! Wait a minute!" But Hope, though he certainly must have heard, elected not to stop, and hurried on without so much as a glance in Gerald's direction, and joined a group of boys about his own age. "He's like that," Gilbert remarked in what he meant to be a kindly tone, for he was really sorry for his companion's mortification; "he doesn't want you now he's got his old companions. He found it all very well to knock about with you in the holidays when he'd no one else to chum with, but it's different now. Those fellows he's talking to are boarders. If I were you—" Gerald waited to hear no more; he turned abruptly away, not desirous of listening to unpalatable truths; but after school hours, when he was hurrying down the street on his way home to dinner, Reginald Hope overtook him and walked by his side. "I say, Willis, I wouldn't stop to talk to you in the playground because I can't stand Gilbert Mickle," Hope said apologetically; "you understand?" Gerald's face cleared; he felt he had been unjust to his friend. Of course Hope did not like Gilbert. He might have known that was his reason for passing without a word. The lame boy was not a favourite with any one.