"Poor old chap," murmured Tester, "he takes these little things so much to heart. He loathes me because I don't sweat myself to death all day at the nets. He never said anything to me; he has given me up as a bad job. Poor old chap!" "Well, I suppose we ought to have been at the nets," said Gordon. "If we did everything that we ought to do in this world, we should never have a moment's time to do the things we liked." "I suppose so," said Gordon, "but still, you know--oh, well, what the hell does it matter? By Jove, well hit, Dyke!" The conversation turned again to the match. Next term Gordon had arranged to have a study with Lovelace. Tester was going to be a prefect, and wanted to himself the big upstairs study that Clarke had had. Gordon was staying in No. 1. He was not sorry. He did not quite understand Tester; he was too clever, and Gordon never knew exactly what he was driving at. Lovelace, on the other hand, was his best friend; they had played together in several sides, and next term Lovelace would captain the footer Colts. The future seemed very roseate. Moreover, he was certain to get into the Sixth, and that meant many privileges. He did not have to attend rolls, he could be late for tea, there was no need for him to get leave to speak to anyone in hall. It meant many study hours, and it would also bring him into contact with the Olympians. There was Garter, who had been in the Sixth four terms, and was in the Second Fifteen. He would meet Betteridge. There was Rudd to rag. Prothero had reduced his time-table to one hour in school a day, and was an authority to consult on any subject regarding avoiding work. Davenport would be promoted, too. Gordon's day of power was beginning to dawn. Next term he would be distinctly a House blood. It was a ravishing thought. One evening in exam. week Hunter announced casually after tea: "I say, do you remember Betteridge talking once about a man called Ferrers? Well, he is coming here as a master next term." "Oh, Lord, is he really?" said Fletcher. "I suppose he will be full of rotten new theories, and he will probably want to make us work." "Well, I always give a master a good fortnight's trial before I do any work for him," said Tester; "at the end of that, I usually find his keenness has worn off. I bet he will be the same as all the rest." "I doubt it," said Betteridge; "he is a man." "Well, whatever he is, he is going to have no effect on me," said Gordon, with a finality that quite closed the question. CHAPTER IV: THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY