"Well, Isidore Belchatosky has a velvet suit," said the gentle-hearted Miss Bailey, as she noticed the miserable eyes of the deposed beau travelling from his own frayed sleeve to the scarlet splendour across the aisle. "But's it's black," sneered the small coquette, and Teacher was only just in time to snatch Isidore's faultless writing from the deluge of his bitter tears. When the First Reader Class filed down the yard for recess, Miss Bailey was disgusted to find that Isaac Borrachsohn's admiring audience increased until it included every boy in the school young enough to be granted these twenty minutes of relaxation during the long morning. He was led away to a distant corner, there to receive tribute of deference, marbles, candy, tops, and political badges. But he spoke no word. Silently and gravely he held court. Gravely and silently he suffered himself to be led back to Room 18. Still silently and still gravely he went home at twelve o'clock. At a quarter before one on that day, while Morris Mogilewsky and Nathan Spiderwitz, Monitors of Gold-Fish and Window Boxes, were waiting dejectedly for the opening of the school doors and reflecting that they must inevitably find themselves supplanted in their sovereign's regard--for Teacher, though an angel, was still a woman, and therefore sure to prefer gorgeously arrayed ministers--there entered to them Patrick Brennan, fortified by the morning's devotion, and reacting sharply against the morning's restraint. "Fellars," he began jubilantly; "I know where we can hook a banana. And the Ginney's asleep. Come on!" His colleagues looked at him with lack-lustre eyes. "I don't need no bananas," said Morris dispiritedly. "They ain't so awful healthy fer me." "Me too," Nathan agreed. "I et six once und they made me a sickness." "Bananas!" urged Patrick. "Bananas, an' the man asleep! What's the matter with ye anyway?" "There's a new boy in our class," Morris answered. "Und he's a dude. Und Teacher's lovin' mit him." "Und he sets in your place," added Nathan. "I'll break his face if he tries it again," cried Patrick hotly. "Who let him sit there?" "Teacher," wailed Morris. "Ain't I tell you how she's lovin' mit him?" "And where's all _my_ things?" Patrick demanded with pardonable curiosity. "Where am I to sit?" "She makes you should set by her side," Morris reassured him. "Und keep your pencil in her desk. It could be awful nice fer you. You sets right by her." "I'll try it for a day or two," said Patrick grandly. "I'll see how I'll like it."