Harry Venniker, though he was not intellectually distinguished, and had only scraped into the Lower Sixth Form by the subtle and compassionate process of a ‘charity remove,’ was in the cricket and football elevens, and his bowling was the hope and stay of the school. He had grown up to be a tall, manly, splendid creature, with the old curly auburn hair and the old sunny smile and ringing merry laugh. He was said to be the most popular boy in the school. It was noticed that his achievements in the cricket field were more loudly applauded than any other boy’s. Little boys, fresh to the school, would sometimes cause their parents and friends, when they visited St. Anselm’s, to walk a hundred yards or more out of their way for the sake of catching sight of him as he went to or from the cricket field. His tastes and feelings, whether known or only imagined, formed the etiquette of public opinion. One little boy, even more enthusiastic than the rest, turned one day to his sister who was making some innocent remark in the street, and said, ‘Hush! Katie, don’t talk, here’s Venniker coming along; he doesn’t like girls talking loud; perhaps he’ll look at you, if you’ll hold your tongue.’ Yet amidst all this popularity Harry Venniker remained unchanged; he was still as modest and unaffected as when he came to St. Anselm’s, and it seemed as if everybody were conscious of the wonderful favour attending his life, except himself. It is sometimes said that boyhood is the happiest time of life. I know not if it is so; perhaps the world is apt to confuse happiness with freedom from responsibility; but there can be no doubt that for most boys the happiest time of boyhood, at least in a public school, is the last year of school life. There is a time--it is most mysterious, it cannot be predicted, it cannot be defined, but every schoolboy knows what it is--when a boy becomes a ‘swell.’ He is elevated then above the mass of his schoolfellows. He is ennobled, so to say, by the popular voice. He becomes a privileged person. Certain actions, which, if performed by ordinary boys, would subject them to the dreadful imputation of ‘swagger,’ are allowed as lawful and natural to him. These actions are not the same in all schools, but in every school the boys know them perfectly. A boy who is a ‘swell’ may carry a light cane at house matches and on other solemn occasions, or may be a member of a particular club, or he may wear a special cap or necktie, or special collars, or may adorn his waistcoat with brass buttons, or may fold up his umbrella, or walk up and down the middle of the street arm in arm with other boys who are also ‘swells’ in the late afternoon, when young ladies are supposed to be returning from lawn-tennis parties, or he may be distinguished in any one of a hundred other trivial ways; but whatever the distinction is, and however trivial, it is that which constitutes a ‘swell.’