“D’you mean to say your father has sent you to a public school?” said he. He was not a nice-looking fellow. He had a remarkably long and disproportionate nose. Also his lips had a sarcastic turn. His name was Coles. “This is _good_,” said he, and gave a short laugh. “I must write and tell the gov’nor about this. He’ll be awfully amused. What do you think the fellows here will say when they know what your father is?” Bobbie Carr looked straight up at him, but there was a queer look of anxiety on his face. “They’re not going to know,” said he at last. “I’ve promised I wouldn’t say.” “I should think so,” said Coles. “You won’t be very happy here when they find out he’s a——” A figure came up suddenly from behind and moved between them. A large hand rested upon Bobbie’s shoulder. “Well, sonny,” said Rouse. “How did _you_ enjoy it?” CHAPTER III COMING EVENTS The new Headmaster of Harley was a man of considerable importance and an overpowering belief in himself; for which reason he formed hasty opinions, and having once formed them believed them to be correct for ever afterwards. In appearance he was not unlike a bloodhound in spectacles, and his manner was appropriately grim. The first case that came before his notice was that of Arthur, and he dealt with it in person. “Because,” said he, “at Wilton I had the reputation of knowing each boy individually, and I should like to know each boy here as soon as I possibly can.” The railway company had reported that Arthur had had the audacity to travel upon their line without a ticket, and Arthur was accordingly brought in and required to furnish his explanation of the outrage. This he did in the most heart-rending manner, with second-hand sort of tears spurting from his eyes all the time, and with such effect that, after listening to his pitiable tale, the new Head became convinced that he had been set upon in the train by a cowardly ruffian belonging to the school, and apparently even a prefect of it, who had wrenched his ticket from him by brute force and torn it to shreds before his very eyes. Arthur went so far as to give detailed information. The felon’s name was Rouse. He had introduced himself. And he was a friend of a boy called Nicholson, whose brother was a master at school. The new Head sent him away with a comforting pat on the shoulder and settled himself down to consider a fitting punishment for the scoundrel who could do such a thing. Now as luck would have it, that afternoon he was standing in majesty beside his window, looking out upon the kingdom he had come to govern, when his eye lighted upon a Rugby game in progress upon a distant football ground, and he suddenly came to an abrupt decision. “At Wilton,” he told the bursar, “I had the reputation of only going out to watch games when I was least expected to do so.” He nodded his head pleasantly.