The subject of the conversation was hurrying along towards them, with a curiously uncertain, rocking gait. The huge felt hat that covered his head and rested on his shoulders behind, was pushed off from his forehead, showing long, lank wisps of yellowish white hair; and the ragged gray coat whose tatters were fluttering airily in the morning breeze, made him look so much like what Leon had called him, “A scarecrow out for a morning stroll,” that one felt moved to peep under his coat for the supporting cross-sticks and straw which went to make up his body. Trudging along by his side was a mite of a boy with a bushy thatch of tousled flaxen hair, and dressed in a jacket and trousers of blue checked gingham. The strange pair seemed to be well-tried friends, for the urchin was chattering earnestly to his venerable companion who looked down at him with a simpering, vacant expression, as if only half understanding the simple talk of his little comrade.
“Who’s the boy?” asked Leon, after watching them for a moment, in amused silence.
“Cappy Toomsen, short for Caspar,” said Alex. “It isn’t a cheerful name, I confess; but it doesn’t seem to worry Master Cappy, for a more jolly little imp never lived. He is a great admirer of old Jerry, and the two are off somewhere together, almost every day.”
“How do? Fi’ day. New boy. Who he?” remarked Jerry, planting himself in their path at this moment, and pointing at Leon who flushed under his broad stare.
“Hullo, Jerry!” responded Stanley, nodding good-naturedly to the old man. “This is Leon Arnold, a new boy at Flemming.”
“Arno’, Leon Arno’,” said the old fellow, bobbing his head wisely. “Jerry likes Flemming boy!”
“Well he may,” remarked Stanley, as he went on. “He gets many an old coat and bit of money out of them.”
“The Hilton people call him Flemming’s ragbag,” added Alex. “He goes round, most of the time, dressed in our cast-off uniforms. Jerry always insists on being introduced to every new boy that comes to Flemming, and he has an endless memory for names and faces, so he’ll never forget you, you may be sure.”
Quarter of an hour later, the boys went in to breakfast. At the dining-room door, Leon was waylaid by his brother.
“Where in the world have you been, Leon?” he said eagerly. “I’ve been looking all round for you, to tell you that word just came up from the doctor’s that we’re to dine there to-night. Isn’t that jolly? It’s because you’re a new fellow, with a brother among the old boys. He always invites them.”