On the large table in the middle of the room tea was laid, one plate of bread and butter, and a plate of rock buns. Dormer, a round, red-faced, cheerful-looking person with white hair, aged about fifty, and Clinton, a short, athletic youth, with close-cropped hair and a large mouth, were drinking tea. Clinton had poured his into his saucer and was blowing at it—a practice that Perrin greatly disliked. However, this was the first day of term, and everyone was very friendly. Perrin paused a moment in the doorway. “Ah! here we are again!” he said, with easy jocularity. Dormer gave him a hand, and said, “Glad to see you, Perrin; had good holidays?” Clinton took the last rock bun, and shouted with a kind of roar, “You old nut!” Perrin, as he moved to the table, thought that it was a little hard that all the things that irritated him most should happen just when he was most inclined to be easy and pleasant. “Ha! no cake!” he said, with a surprised air. “Oh! I say, I'm so sorry,” said Clinton, with his mouth full, “I took the last. Ring the bell.” Perrin gulped down his annoyance, sat down, and poured out his tea. It was cold and leathery. Dormer was busily writing lists of names. The Lower School was divided into two houses—Dormer was house-master of one, and Perrin of the other. The other two junior men were under house-masters: Clinton belonged to Dormer; and Traill, the new man, to Perrin. Both houses were in the same building, but the sense of rival camps gave a pleasant spur of emulation and competition both to work and play. “I say, Perrin, “have you made out your bath-lists? Then there are locker-names—I want.” Perrin snapped at his bread and butter. “Ah, Dormer, please—my tea first.” “All right; only, it's getting on to four.” For some moments there was silence. Then there came timid raps on the door. Perrin, in his most stentorian voice, shouted, “Come in!” The door slowly opened, and there might be seen dimly in the passage a misty cloud of white Eton collars and round, white faces. There was a shuffling of feet. Perrin walked slowly to the door. “Here we all are again! How pleasant! How extremely pleasant! All of us eager to come back, of course—um—yes. Well, you know you oughtn't to come now. Two minutes past four. I 'll take your names then—another five minutes. It's up on the board. Well, Sexton? Hadn't you eyes? Don't you know that ten minutes past four is ten minutes past four and not four o'clock?” “Yes, sir, please, sir—but, sir—” Perrin closed the door, and walked slowly back to the fireplace. “Ha, ha,” he said, smiling reflectively; “had him there!” Dormer was muttering to himself, “Wednesday, 9 o'clock, Bilto, Cummin; 10 o'clock, Sayer, Long. Thursday, 9 o'clock—” The golden leaves blew with a whispering chatter down the path.