Commencing the Summer Term
THE first day of his school life at the Wreyford Grammar School was an unusual experience for Gerald Willis. He found himself in the same form as Tom Mickle, and discovered he need have no fears of being beaten by him in his work, for Tom, though a bright, sharp boy, was rather given to idling, and at the present time his mind was far more interested in sports than in his scholastic duties, which it must be confessed he somewhat neglected, and considered of quite secondary importance to football and cricket. It gratified Gerald to find he satisfied the form master as to his knowledge; therefore, he was in a decidedly complacent state of mind when, on the first day of the summer term, he found himself in the playground for the twenty minutes' break' in the middle of the morning. Then it was he discovered how different were many of the boys to those he had had for companions at the private school which he had attended in London. The latter had been all the sons of gentlemen, consequently Gerald was far from pleased when a big lad called Rabjohns, whom he knew to be the son of a Wreyford butcher, caught him by the collar and put him through a catechism as to who he was, what he was called, where he lived, and so on. Gerald felt vastly indignant at being questioned by this youth, and would dearly have liked to have told him to mind his own business, but the other boy was too big and strong to pick a quarrel with, so he wisely answered all his questions, though with no good grace.
"So you live at Haresdown House," said Rabjohns, still grasping him by the collar at arm's length, and surveying him from head to heels. "You're a relation of that old Australian chap, I suppose, who's bought the place? I know him by sight—drives a smart little turn-out, doesn't he, and generally has a little girl with him?"
"Yes—my sister."
"You haven't become chummy with any of the Grammar School boys yet, eh?"
"I know Gilbert and Tom Mickle, and Reginald Hope."
"Oh, the Mickles are well enough," Rabjohns allowed condescendingly; "certainly Gilbert's rather too high and mighty for my taste, but he's a clever chap, and keeps up the standard of the school for learning. Tom's a mischievous monkey, but he's a plucky youngster, and one of our shining lights in the football field. As to Reginald Hope—well, he's not likely to have much to say to a kid like you, and the less the better. There, you can go!" And the big boy gave Gerald a playful shake, dropped his hold of him with a good-tempered laugh.
Gerald was highly indignant. It was insufferable to be so spoken to and treated by the son of the man who supplied his uncle with meat. He wondered if Rabjohns knew that Mr. Bailey was one of his father's customers; he hardly thought it possible he could be aware of the fact. Whilst he was still looking angry and red in the face, he saw Gilbert Mickle at a little distance, leaning on his crutches, watching him with evident amusement. Gerald felt humiliated at the sight of the sarcastic smile on Gilbert's lips, but he could not resist the temptation of speaking to some one he knew, so he strolled up to the lame boy and commenced a conversation.
"I'm in the same form as Tom," he informed Gilbert.
"Are you?" Gilbert said, apparently not interested. "How do you like Rabjohns?" he asked, after a slight pause.