"Nineteen hundred and twelve to the top steps! We're Second Form now! Top steps belong to the Second Form!" shouted four boys, redolent with health and life, as they dashed up the tree-lined walk leading to the Baxter High School, mounted the lower steps, and threw themselves into the coveted positions. It was the opening day of school, and the spacious, shady grounds were alive with happy, wide-awake boys, and merry, laughing girls, renewing old acquaintances and closely scrutinizing all newcomers. As the rallying cry rang out, other members of the Second Form broke away from those with whom they were talking and hastened to join the four leaders whom they hailed by the nicknames of Taffy, Soda, Lefty and Buttons, reminders of past exploits. With envious glances at the proud Seconds, the Lower Form scholars gathered at the foot of the steps, eager to witness any fun that might transpire. Conspicuous among them was a tall, thin boy, who carried a large bunch of books under his arm. "Is that the meeting-place of the Second Form?" asked this lad, of the one nearest him. "Uhuh." "Thank you. I think I will join them." "You'd better n----" began his informer, but before he could finish his warning, a hand was clapped over his mouth and warm lips whispered in his ears, "Let him go. He must be taught respect for the Upper Forms. Wait till Soda sees him." Interference was now too late, had the Lower Form boy wished to finish his advice. For no sooner had the newcomer emerged from the ranks of the others standing at the foot of the steps than a girl, brunette, and very pretty, nudged her companion, who, though just as attractive, was of the blonde type, and giggled: "Oh, Grace, look at that coming up the steps!" This exclamation, being audible to the others, all the boys and girls turned their eyes in the direction of the new student, and watched his approach in a silence portentous in its intensity. Even the newcomer felt its significance, and, as he reached the fourth step from the top, paused, hesitatingly. Taking advantage of his evident embarrassment, the lad nicknamed Soda, making his voice very deep, demanded: "What dost thou wish, Clothespin?" The nickname was so appropriate that the boys and girls roared with laughter, adding still more to their victim's discomfiture. Twice he cleared his throat, but the grinning faces of the boys and the mischievous eyes of the girls stifled his words and sent hot flushes to his cheeks. "He's mine! I saw him first!" exclaimed another of the Second Formers, noting the newcomer's embarrassment. "Now, Clothespin, what is it you desire? Speak, or forever hold your tongue." To the new student, the bantering seemed terribly real, and, after gulping several times, he stammered: "Is this the Second Form?" "Yea, verily, Clothespin, this is the Second Form--that is, the best part of it," returned Soda.