After prayers, Mr Lindsay told him to come to his room with his books. He went there with a good heart also. His Latin construing and parsing seemed to satisfy his tutor, and then he read some Greek. Mr Lindsay looked pleased. This encouraged him. He went over book after book with perfect ease. The chances are, that he knew less than many a boy who had passed a much worse examination; but he had the advantage of possessing well-strung nerves, and of not feeling that he was doing anything dreadful or out of the way. Whatever he did know he recalled at once to his memory. He had also no wish to pretend to know more than he did. All was perfectly natural with him. His head and his voice were clear, and so on he went without the slightest hesitation. Had he been suddenly asked to sing a song which he knew, he could have done so with ease. "You have got through very well," said Mr Lindsay; "I am happy to say that I shall be able to get you very satisfactorily placed." Reginald was not a little pleased. He would have liked to ask "Where?" but he thought that might not be etiquette; so he restrained his curiosity, and ran off with a light stop to deposit his books in his room, and afterwards to join Power at breakfast, with a remarkably good appetite. "Where do you think I shall be, though?" he asked more than once. Power guessed, but did not like to run the risk of disappointing him, so wisely would not give an opinion. At last, a short time before eleven o'clock, he set off with Mr Lindsay to make his _debut_ in school. He was left by himself in the school-yard while Mr Lindsay, as did most of the masters, went into "Chambers," to have a talk with the Doctor. He felt for a moment a little forlorn, standing in that wide place with so many boys around him, and yet not one he could call a friend or even an acquaintance; for neither Power nor Anson had yet come. The boys now began to pour into the school-yard. Many came up to him and began the old standard questions. "What's your name?" asked one; "any relation of Warrender at Rowley's?" "No," answered Reginald. "I have had no relation here since my father was at Eton, that I know of." "Oh, yes--but surely you're a cousin of Tom Jones?" observed one who was looked upon as a great wag. "I am not aware that I have that honour," answered Reginald. Several similar questions he had to answer, which he did in perfect good humour. At last a big, hulking fellow, who looked as if he had got fat on sucking-things, rolled up to him. There was something in the boy's air which reminded him wonderfully of a bully at his former school. "How are you, Master Jones?" said the fellow, with a supercilious look. "Pretty well, Tommy Green," answered Reginald, giving him back glance for glance. "How dare you call me Green!" exclaimed the big boy, looking angry.