The first thing that met their eyes was Harry, who didn't quite know whether they would speak to him or not. So he waited till one or two greeted him with a shake of the hand, and a "how-de-do, Campbell?" two or three more with a cold "hallo, Campbell!" and the rest with only a stare.
Amongst the latter were Egerton and Warburton. In about five minutes a step was heard on the landing-place below.
"Gas out," cried Egerton, "there's Lea coming."
"Lea" was a house-master.
No one moved to obey the order.
"Now, then," cried Warburton, "who's new boy?" Harry, where he knelt at his bedside saying his prayers, knew he was meant; but he had not jumped up from his knees to obey the order, when a slipper came hard at him. He, however, first put out the gas, and was on his knees again, finishing his prayers, when Mr Lea entered. All being quiet, and the light out, he retired. As soon as his last step was heard below, one or two voices exclaimed—
"I say, Jackson, go on with your story, where you left off last night."
"Oh, no," answered Jackson, the boy appealed to, "I ain't new boy now. I've done my turn."
The majority of the boys did not quite like to tell Harry plainly it was his turn to provide the usual nightly amusement of a story, for they felt some sort of compunction towards him, because of his mother's death, even though they had not spoken to him; but they did not hesitate to talk pointedly about its being the new boy's turn; that Jackson had done his turn; he was the last new boy, and so on.
But as Harry took no notice of these remarks, Egerton solved the difficulty by saying curtly,—