The mimicry was so accurate that Irving winced and then flushed to the temples. In the laughter that it produced he closed his door quietly and sat down to think. He couldn’t be courageous now; he felt that he could not step out and face those fellows who were laughing at him. Of course they were the ones who ought to be embarrassed by his appearance, not he; but Irving felt they would lend one another support and brazen it through, and that he would be the one to exhibit weakness. He decided that he must wait and try to make himself known to each one of them separately—that only by such a beginning would he be likely to engage their respect. It was the first time that he had been brought face to face with his pitiable diffidence. He was ashamed; he thought of how differently Lawrence would have met the situation—how much more directly he would have dealt with it. Irving resolved that hereafter he would not be afraid of any multitude of boys. But he refrained from making his presence known in the dormitory that afternoon. At half past five o’clock he went downstairs to the rooms of Mr. Randolph, who had charge of the Upper School. Mr. Marcy, the Fifth Form dormitory master, and Mr. Wythe, the Fourth Form dormitory master, were also there. They were veterans, comparatively, and it was to meet them and benefit by what they could tell him that Irving had been invited. All three congratulated him on his good fortune in obtaining the Sixth Form dormitory. “The older they are, the less trouble they are,” said Wythe. “My first year I was over at the Lower School, looking after the little kids. Half the time they’re sick and whimpering and have to be coddled, and the rest of the time they have to be spanked.” “It hardly matters what age they are,” lamented Marcy, pessimistically. “There’s bound to be a dormitory disorder once in so often.” “What do you do in that case?” asked Irving. “Jump hard on some one,” answered Wythe. “Try to get the leader of it, but if you can’t get him, get somebody. Report him,—give him three sheets.” “That means writing Latin lines for three hours on half-holidays?” “Yes, and six marks off in Decorum for the week. Of course they’ll come wheedling round you, wanting to be excused; you have to use your own discretion about that.” “Do you have any Sixth Form classes?” asked Marcy. “Yes,” Irving answered. “In Geometry.” “That means you’ll have to take the upper hand and hold it, right from the start. If you have one crowd in dormitory to look after and another crowd in class, you can afford to relax a little now and then; but when it’s the same boys in both—they watch for any sign of weakening.” “There will be only two of them at your table, any way, Mr. Upton,” said Randolph. He passed over a list. “The others are all Fourth and Fifth Formers—only Westby and Carroll from the Sixth!” “Westby!” Wythe sighed. “Maybe we were premature in congratulating you. I’d forgotten about Westby.”