Well, you must get into the Eleven,’ continued Mr. Brandiston, ‘and I shall look to you to win the great match.’ It was in a different spirit, timid and trembling, that Gerald Eversley entered the study. A _tête-à-tête_ with his house master was to him like the ancient ordeal of fire or water. He did not venture to lift his eyes from the floor until he heard Mr. Brandiston say kindly: ‘Well, Eversley, and how do you like St. Anselm’s?’ A pause. ‘But it is too early to ask that yet. Rather strange, is it not? You have not finished unpacking yet, I see,’ looking, as he spoke, at Gerald’s neck and chin, so Gerald thought. ‘Your father tells me you have not been at school before. All the more credit to you,’ he added, seeing the boy’s look of pain, ‘to have won a scholarship straight from home. You must try for some of the classical prizes soon. I hope you will do the house credit. I shall expect you to be captain of the school some day. Now you may go and get your books from Arkwright’s.’ Harry Venniker, who had been waiting for his companion in the passage outside the study, prevented the possibility of any remark that Gerald might have wished to make by his rapid questions. ‘What did you think of him? Not a bad sort, is he? He asked me if I wasn’t a bowler, and told me he hoped I should get into the Eleven. What did he say to you?’ It was not necessary for Gerald to reply to the question respecting his opinion of his house master, for Harry ran on with his sentences like a mountain-stream flowing over the pebbles in its bed but not delayed by them; but he thought of Mr. Brandiston as the incarnation of law and order and felt disposed to worship him accordingly. They went off to Arkwright’s, the bookseller’s shop. ‘I say, Arbuthnot,’ cried a little red-haired boy named Thornton, who had been watching the two new boys as they rounded the corner of the passage leading from the boys’ entrance of the boarding house into the street, ‘here’s a new chap come who has got “stick-ups” and a jacket.’ Thornton, as having been exactly one term in the school, had arrogated to himself the position of an authority upon scholastic etiquette. Seniority soon confers authority at a public school. It may be necessary to explain that the social solecism of which Gerald Eversley was thus pronounced to be guilty consisted in wearing the ‘stick-up’ collars which are at St. Anselm’s the traditional accompaniments of a tailcoat, instead of the smooth flat-lying collars--sometimes known as the Eton collars--with a jacket. His costume had thus become a curious blending of the dress of the senior and the junior boys at St. Anselm’s. It offended the sentiments of both classes of boys. Arbuthnot opened his eyes in astonishment. It seemed impossible to believe that any boy, however ‘green,’ would be ignorant of the immemorial laws of dress at St. Anselm’s. ‘No,’ he said; ‘that’s too rich.’