“Well, I count on that; that’s partly the reason I am asking you rather than another. I want you to make a special effort to look out for Finch.” “Gee whiz! Mr. Morris,” exclaimed Tony, sitting upright, and assuming an expression of exaggerated horror. “I’ve seen him! I’ll be decent, of course. But really, I don’t see how I can possibly stand taking that little scarecrow under my wing. Why, Jimmie and Kit would——” “Oh, yes, I know their attitude; but you know as well as I that they would back you up in the matter. I want you to be more than decent. The boy is here, and the Head has strong reasons for wanting him to make good. As you know, all the chances are against his doing so. In truth, I should say, that the boy has no chance unless an old boy, more or less of your caliber, will definitely take him up and befriend him.” “Nobody is going to hurt him,” protested Tony. “Why, Kit just now rescued him from Ducky Thornton and a crowd of little bullies.” “That’s good,” answered Morris, “but that is only a drop in the bucket. That boy’s life will be unbearable unless he makes a friend. And I do not believe there is a boy in the school who would be his friend, _really his friend_,—except you.” “His friend, Mr. Morris?...!” “Nothing else helps you know—_nothing_.” Tony grew serious. He thought of what friendship had meant to him:—Jimmie—his eyes moistened at the thought of him; Carroll; Morris, the man before him, whose deep kind gray eyes were looking at him now so confidently. “Mr. Morris,” he said at last, “you do know me, I reckon; you bank on my being clay in your hands.” Then he laughed, “What’s the brat’s name?—Pinch?” “No, Finch, Jacob Finch.” “Well, all right—Finch.... The dickens fly away with him. Good-night, maestro.” “Good-night, my boy.” They clasped hands for a moment, and Tony was gone. “I am an ass,” he said, flinging himself on the couch by the side of Kit, when he returned to Number Five. “I’ve promised Bill to be a guardian angel to that new kid.” CHAPTER XI THE DISCOMFITURE OF DUCKY THORNTON Fifth Form year in a school like Deal usually marks a decided change in the boys; they have grown more mature, have become more serious in various ways, have definitely put away—the most of them—the childish things of school life, and are to be counted as standing for the most part on the side of the powers of law and order. They are used to the ways of the place, are thoroughly imbued with the school spirit and tradition, and consciously aim at keeping themselves and their fellows in the good old ways.