“People!” said his sister; “what do you mean by his people?”
“Oh, you know, Mary; you girls are always shamming you don’t understand plain English. I mean his people.”
Mary smiled, and looked at the strangers. “Yes, no doubt of it,” she said, “that young lady has just the same features as Mr Home, only softened a little; more refined they could not be. And they’ve been hearing all your rude remarks, Walter, no doubt.”
The boy was right, for when the speeches were over, they saw Home offer his arm to the two ladies and lead them out into the courtyard, where everybody was waiting, under the large awning, to hear the lions of the day cheered as they came down the school steps. Bruce was leading the cheers; he seemed to know everybody and everybody to know him, and as group after group passed him, he was bowing and smiling repeatedly while he listened to the congratulations which were lavished upon him from all sides. Among the last his own family came out, and when he gave his arm to his mother and descended the school steps, one of the other monitors suddenly cried—
“Three cheers for the Head of the school.”
The boys cordially echoed the cheers, and taking off his hat, Bruce stood still with a flush of exultation on his handsome face, in an attitude peculiar to him whenever he was undergoing an ovation.
“Pose plastique; King Bruce snuffing up the incense of flattery!” muttered a school Thersites, standing by.
“Green-minded scoundrel,” was the reply; “that’s because he beat you to fits in the Latin verse.”
“How very popular he seems to be, Julian,” said Miss Home to her brother, as they stood rather apart from the fashionable crowd.
“Very popular, and, on the whole, he deserves his popularity; how capitally he recited to-day,” and Julian looked at him and sighed.