“Oh, I say! What's your name?” “Peter.” “Peter! Oh! but your other name. The fellows will rag you most awfully if you tell them your Christian name.” “Westcott, then.” “Mine's Cheeseman. I'm going to like everybody here and get on. I say, shall we be chums?” “No.” “Oh, I say! Why not?” “Because I don't like you.” “Oh, I say!” “In another minute I'll break your neck.” “Oh! I say!” The piping boy sprang up from the play-box and stood away. “All right, you needn't be ratty about it! I'll tell the fellows you said your name was Peter! They'll give it you.” And the piping boy moved down the passage whistling casually. After this, silence, and only all the greatcoats swaying a little in the draught and bulging out and then thinning again as though there were two persons inside them. Peter sat quite motionless for a long time with his face in his hands. He was very tired and very cold and very hungry. A crowd advanced towards him--five or six boys, and one large fat boy was holding the piping one by the ear. “Oh, I say! Let me go! Let me go! I'll do your boots up, really I will. I'll do whatever you like! Oh! I say! There's a new boy. He says his name is Peter!” So did the wretched piping one endeavour to divert attention from his own person. The fat boy, accompanied by a complacent satellite, approached Peter. “Hullo, you. What's your name?” “Westcott.” “'Tisn't. It's Peter.” “Peter Westcott.” “Well, Mr. Peter Westcott, stand up when you're spoken to by your betters. I say, hack him up, you fellows.” Peter was “hacked” up. “Now, what do you mean by not speaking when you're spoken to?” Peter stood square and faced him. “Oh! you won't speak, won't you? See if this will do it.” Peter's arm and ear were twisted; he was also hit in the mouth. He was still silent. Some one in the back of the crowd said, “Oh, come on, you chaps--let's leave this kid, the other fellow's more fun.” And they passed on bearing the piping one with them. Peter sat down again; he was feeling sick and his head ached. He buried his head in the greatcoat that hung above him, and cried quite silently for a very long time. A bell rang, and boys ran past him, and he ran with them. He found that it was supper and that he was sitting with the other new boys at the bottom of the table, but he could not eat and his head was swimming. Then there were prayers and, as he knelt on the hard floor with his head against the form, some one stuck a pin into the soft part of his leg and gave him great pain. Then at last, and all this time he had spoken to no one, upstairs to bed. A tall, thin woman in shining black was at the head of the stairs--she read out to the new boys the numbers of their dormitories in a harsh, metallic voice. Peter went to his, and found it a long room with twenty beds, twenty washing basins, and twenty chairs. One last incident.