The day was fully occupied with the rather exhaustive examination designed to put the right boy in the right form. There were no fewer than three papers in the morning alone. There was, however, a short break between each, which Carpenter was inclined to spend in boring Rutter with appreciative comments upon the striking mural decorations of the great schoolroom in which the examination was held. There were forty-two new boys, some of them hulking fellows of fifteen or more, some quite small boys in Eton jackets; and the chances are that none among them was more impressed than Carpenter by the reproductions of classical statuary hung upon the walls of Pompeian red, or by the frieze of ancient and modern authors which a great mind had planned and a cunning hand had made; but it is certain that none thought less of them than Jan Rutter. To pacify his companion he did have a look at the frieze, but it was exactly the same look as he had cast into the studies before breakfast. The two had more in common when they compared notes on the various papers. “I didn’t mind the Latin grammar and history,” said Jan. “I’ve had my nose in my grammar for the last six months, and you only had to answer half the history questions.” Jan’s spirits seemed quite high. “But what about the unseen?” asked Carpenter. “I happened to have done the hardest bit before,” said Jan, chuckling consumedly; “and not so long since, either!” Carpenter looked at him. “Then it wasn’t unseen at all?” “Not to me.” “You didn’t think of saying so on your paper?” “Not I! It’s their look-out, not mine,” chuckled Jan. The other made no comment. It was the long break in the middle of the day, and the pair were on their way back to Heriot’s for dinner. “I wish they’d set us some verses,” said Carpenter. “They’d be _my_ best chance.” “Then you’re a fool if you take it,” put in a good-humoured lout who had joined them in the street. “But it’s the only thing I can do at all decently,” explained the ingenuous Carpenter. “I’m a backward sort of ass at most things, but I rather like Latin verses.” “Well, you’re another sort of ass if you do your best in any of these piffling papers.” “I see! _You_ mean to make sure of a nice easy form?” “Rather!” “There’s no fagging over the Upper Fourth, let me tell you, even for us.” “Perhaps not, but there’s more kinds of fagging than one, you take my word for it; and I prefer to do mine out of school,” said the big new boy, significantly, as their ways parted. Carpenter wanted to discuss his meaning, but Jan took no interest in it, and was evidently not to be led into any discussion against his will. He had in fact a gift of silence remarkable in a boy and not a little irritating to a companion. Yet he broke it again to the extent of asking Heriot at table, and that _à propos_ of nothing, when the other boys would “start to arrive.”