"I say," said I, feeling that enough had been said on a matter on which we evidently misunderstood each other, "do you know Tempest?" "Rather. He's in our house. You'll get it pretty hot from him if you cheek him." "Oh, I know him well; he's an old chum." The boy laughed incredulously. "He'd thank you if he heard you say so. Oh my! fancy Tempest-- Hullo, I say, there he is. Cut away, kid, before he sees you." And the youth set me a prompt example. I was sorry he had not remained to witness the fact that I was not quite the outsider he took me for. Tempest was strolling across the road, arm-in-arm with a friend. He certainly was not got up in the "form" which he had prescribed for me. He wore a straw hat on the back of his head, and boots of unmistakable blackness. But then, though an exhibitioner himself once, he had now attained to the dignity of a senior, and was probably exempt from the laws binding on new boys. As he approached I crossed the road to meet him, full of joy at the prospect of encountering at least one friend, and marching under his protection into my new quarters. But I was doomed to a slight disappointment. For though for a moment, when he looked up, I fancied he recognised me, he did not discontinue his conversation with his friend, but drew him out into the middle of the road. They seemed to be enjoying a joke between them. His companion looked round once or twice at me, but Tempest, who was looking quite flushed, apparently did not take me in, and walked on, looking the other way. It was a little shock to me, or would have been had I not remembered his friendly warning about the etiquette of a junior not accosting a senior till the senior accosted him. I wished he had spoken to me, for just then his help would have been particularly patronising. As it was, I was tantalised by seeing him pass by close to me, and yet being unable, without "shirking form" in a reprehensible way, to bring myself to his notice. In due time I reached Mr Sharpe's house. To my dismay the door stood wide open, and the hall was crowded with fellows claiming their luggage as it was being deposited by the railway van. As I arrived there was an ominous silence, in the midst of which I stood on the step, and carefully rung the bell marked, not "servants," but "visitors." No one came, so after a due interval, and amid the smiles of the onlookers, I mustered up resolution to ring again, rather louder. This time I had not to wait long. A person dressed as a sort of butler, very red in the face, emerged from a green baize door at the end of the passage and advanced wrathfully. "Which of you young gents keeps ringing the bell?" demanded he. "He's to be made an example of this time. Oh, it was you, was it?" said he, catching sight of me. "Yes," said I. "Is Mr Sharpe at home?"