He had come so recently from examination-rooms where he had been one of the pupils that this experience exhilarated him; it conferred upon him an authority that he enjoyed. He liked to be addressed by these nice-mannered young boys as “sir,” and to be recognized by them so unquestioningly as a person to whom deference must be shown. Altogether this first day with the new boys inspired him with confidence, and at the end of it he attacked the pile of examination books enthusiastically. Mr. Barclay aided him in that task; Mr. Barclay was a young master also, comparatively, though he had had several years’ experience. Irving was attracted to him at once, and was grateful for the way in which he made suggestions when there was some uncertainty as to how a boy should be graded. Irving liked, too, the genial chuckle which preceded an invitation to inspect some candidate’s egregious blunder; Irving would read and smile quietly, unaware that Barclay was watching him and wondering how appreciative he might be of the ludicrous. Two nights Irving spent all alone in the Sixth Form dormitory; it amused him to walk up and down the corridors with the list of those to whom rooms there had been assigned. “Collingwood, Westby, Scarborough, Morrill, Anderson, Baldersnaith, Hill”—some of them had occupied these rooms as Fifth Formers, and Irving had asked Mr. Barclay about them. Louis Collingwood was captain of the school football team; Scarborough was captain of the school crew. “Neither of them will give you any trouble,” said Barclay. “Scarborough used to be a cub, but he has developed very much in the last year or two, and now he and Collingwood are the best-liked fellows in the school. They have a proper sense of their responsibility as leaders of the school, and are more likely to help you than to make trouble. Morrill is their faithful follower, though a little harum-scarum at times. Westby—” the master hesitated over that name and looked at Irving with a measuring glance—“Westby is what you might call the school jester. He’s very popular with the boys—not equally so with all the masters. Personally I’m rather fond of him. He’s almost too quick-witted sometimes.” That evening Barclay took the new master home to dine with him. Mrs. Barclay was as cordial and as kind as her husband; Irving began to feel more than satisfied with his surroundings. “Pity you’re not married, Upton,” Barclay said, half jokingly. “You’d escape keeping dormitory if you were—which you’ll find the meanest of all possible jobs. And then if your wife’s the right kind—the boys have to be pretty decent to you in order to keep on her good side.” Mrs. Barclay laughed. “I suppose that’s the only reason they’re pretty decent to you, William!—You’ll find it easy, Mr. Upton,—for the reason that they’re a pretty decent lot of boys.”