And the accent sounded friendless. There was something singularly attractive about this young man, in his gentle manner, his sensitive, shrinking shyness (for so it seemed), his sad, earnest brown eyes: and Dr. Brabazon's heart went out to him. "You shall be shown your room, Mr. Henry," he said, "and then my daughter will give you some tea." Later, Dr. Brabazon took him through the passages, on either side of which were rooms appropriated to particular studies, to the lofty hall, which was the chief schoolroom. A long room, with high windows on one side of it; the masters' desks in the angles of the room, and the long desks of the boys ranged against the sides. Dr. Brabazon's place was at the upper end, in the centre, facing the door, so that he commanded full view of all. Three masters lived in the house: the Reverend Mr. Jebb; Mr. Baker, the mathematical master, and Mr. Long, who took English generally, some of the natural sciences, and was supposed to superintend the boys out of hours. Mr. Jebb assisted Dr. Brabazon with the classics, and the latter took divinity. The other masters lived out. Dr. Brabazon introduced Mr. Henry to the clergyman and Mr. Long, and left him. Mr. Baker was not there. The boys were renewing private friendships, telling tales of their holidays, hatching mischief for the coming term, criticising a few new-comers, and making a continuous hum. Their ages varied from ten to eighteen. On the whole, they seemed a rather superior set; for one thing, the terms were high, and that tended to keep the school select. A sudden "Hiss-is-s," from the lips of Master Richard Loftus—or, as he was called in the school, Loftus minor—suppressed almost before it was heard, caused the group, of whom he was the centre, to look round. "What is it, Dick?" "Don't you see?" whispered Dick. "A nice amount of brass _he_ must have, to show himself here again! Look at him, Onions; he looks more of a sneak than ever." Onions lifted his eyebrows in his cool, but not ill-natured manner, as he surveyed the boy coming in. It was Edwin Lamb. His hair was of a glowing red, and his eyes had a kind of look as if they were not quite straight. Not for that did the boys dislike him, but because he had been found out in one or two dishonourable falsehoods: they brought it out short, "lies:" and was more than suspected of carrying private tales to Mr. Long. They called him "Le Monton," "the Sneak," "Jackal," and other pleasant names. In short, there was a great amount of prejudice against him; more, perhaps, than the boy really deserved. "Don't let any fellow speak to him! Don't let's——" "Hold your tongue, Loftus minor. Allow bygones to be bygones. Time enough to turn against Lamb when you find fresh cause."