"Perhaps you will see what you can make of him presently, Tempest. If he has any intelligence at all," (nice, wasn't it, for an exhibitioner?) "you may be able to make him understand some of the rules of the place. If not, I am afraid we shall have to put him down as a silly little boy, and bear with him accordingly. Go to your seat now, sir, and report yourself to Tempest after register." It was not a very dignified end to the interview. Still, I felt myself lucky to be handed over to the tender mercies of my old comrade, and retired to my place a puzzled but not an amused boy. What perplexed me most was to notice that Brown and the other new boys who had no gloves at all, and did nothing but answer the questions put to them in the plainest possible way, not only passed muster, but received words of approval and encouragement from the master such as I would have given a great deal to have got myself. But such is life. The fellows who take the most pains and deserve most, get least; and the fellows who have least to boast of receive more than they expect. I was glad when register was over and the time came for me to have an explanation with Tempest. "Look here," said the candid youth next to me, "you'd better sit up when you go to Tempest, I can let you know. He's cock of our house this term, and he's not over-tender with idiots, I can let you know." "What, has he been down on you?" I inquired meekly. The only reply I got was a touch on the calf which made me exclaim "Oh!" rather more loudly than I should have chosen to do under ordinary circumstances. Luckily the general movement of the class somewhat deadened the sound, and if Mr Sharpe heard me, he did not consider it worth his while to deprive Tempest of the task of elucidating the reason of it. I kept my man carefully in view, and followed him upstairs into a little study about the size of a commodious sentry box, with a window, book- case, sofa, table, chairs, and all the requirements of a single man of few needs. It seemed to me a delightful little sanctum; and for a moment I began to wonder whether, being an exhibitioner, I might not be entitled to one like it for myself--perhaps this _was_ mine. Tempest soon disabused me of that notion. "Light the fire, and stick on my kettle, kid," said he--they were the first words after more than a year--"and cut and get us a muffin from the shop." "I say," said I, longing for rather more cordial a recognition, "I am jolly glad to see you again, Tempest." Just then another senior popped his head in. "Have tea with me. Tempest? Come on, Wales is coming too." "Is Crofter coming?" "No." "All right, I'm on; thanks, Pridgin. Blow that fire out, kid." "Is that kid your fag?" "Not likely." "Is he all there? Sharpe seemed to doubt it." Tempest shrugged his shoulders. "How soon? Ten minutes?" "Yes--not longer."