"You silly owl! I knew you would forget it; and I made such a lovely one, with silver foil for a blade."
"Imagine the dagger," whispered Mr. Rexworth, his face red with laughter. And the dagger being imagined, the quarrel went on, and was made up in the most approved fashion.
And then, recitations over, there came a short pause—an impressive pause, during which small juniors pushed back their hair, and arranged collars and ties, and tried to look irreproachable, for prizes were coming—prizes!
They began with the juniors first. That is a wise plan, because, having got their share, they are more likely to sit still while the upper classes are being dealt with. The juniors! And every one laughed and clapped as the little fellows walked up to the Head, so stiff and awkward, and saluted for all the world like penny dolls worked by a string, and having clutched their prizes and bobbed to the audience, scuttled back to their seats to have their immediate neighbours bend enviously over that lovely book, and take hurried glances at the pictures.
The middle classes—that is the Upper Third and Lower Fourth—next. With them we have nothing to do, beyond saying that both Tinkle and Green were amongst the prize-winners and that almost before they had got back to their seats, they had challenged each other to mortal combat, because each said his book was better than the other's.
Then the seniors—the Upper Fourth—Warren and Charlton. And each of them got clapped and cheered, as they richly deserved to be.
And then Ralph Rexworth Stephen—how strange it sounded to hear him called that!—and such a burst of cheering and "Brave old Ralph!" and "Buck up, Ralph!" Well, the Head smiled; and for once Ralph looked quite foolish and nervous, and as if he would have liked to cry—it was so good to feel that all his schoolmates respected him!
But his prize given, the Head took up a little case by his side and took from it a gold medal with blue ribbon attached to it. The Newlet Gold Medal, won for Marlthorpe College by Ralph!
Talk of cheering then! It almost deafened one. And—those boys had been plotting together—Warren nodded and winked; and Charlton dived down and got something from beneath the form; and Irene suddenly appeared at Ralph's side with a tiny little laurel wreath, such as they crowned the heroes with in the olden days, when men worked for honour and not for gold; and while the people laughed and clapped she put it on Ralph's head, and at that moment Tom Warren and Charlton held up a great flag—Old England's Union Jack. They had thought all this out, mind you—the sly fellows they were; and Kesterway, the senior monitor of the school, shouted at the top of his voice—