Samuel retired, much crestfallen, wondering when he should be promoted to the prevailing uniform. He wandered up and down the schoolyard, watching here, watching there, hearing never a word of greeting, nor meeting with a friendly nod or smile. At length he came upon an outer stairway, which seemed to lead somewhere, and climbing it, more with the desire to get away from the hordes of strangers than to explore the premises, he came out upon a flat, leaded roof. Resting his folded arms upon the parapet, he stood gazing at the evening sky, solitary and sad. Up to him came the shouts of the students and the roar of the city's noises, and for the first time since he had come to London, his heart turned back with a mighty longing to the fields, the river, and the simple folk of his native village. If only he might hear the lapping of the water and the tinkling of the sheep bells, he would give all that he possessed in the world. He thought of his mother and of his big brother Luke, and the vision of their faces came before him with such startling plainness that he set his teeth and clenched his hands to stem the tide of homesickness that surged over him.
At sound of the deep-toned bell, he hurried down the stair, suspecting that the slender supper was about to be supplemented by a tea or luncheon of some sort; but he was mistaken, for, although the western sky was still ablaze, the boys were filing toward the dormitories.
"This way, Coleridge," called the steward, appearing on the green.
"Where are they going?" inquired Samuel.
"To bed," rejoined the other briefly.
"To bed!" ejaculated Samuel; "why, it's only seven o'clock!"
"Seven is the hour for bed at this school," explained the other shortly, and Samuel gathered from his tone that further comment would be unacceptable.
Awakened next morning by the signal bell, Samuel sat up in his narrow cot and blinked sleepily. Across his bed was thrown a complete uniform such as the other boys wore, and springing up, he gladly donned the costume, and marched down with the others.
At breakfast he sat in the same seat he had occupied last night, and his right-hand neighbor greeted him with a cordial pinch on the arm.
The meal this morning consisted of a quarter-of-a-penny-loaf, on a wooden plate, and a small leathern cup of beer. Samuel was accustomed to rich country milk, fruit, and vegetables; but with yesterday's hunger still unappeased, he could not afford to be fastidious. In a twinkling the bread and beer had disappeared, and he was unconsciously glancing about in search of some one who would serve him with more, when he chanced to notice that every plate and cup at the table was swept clean, and that the lads were shifting about in their chairs as though anxious to be dismissed. Then it was that Samuel realized with a curious pang that plates were never refilled at Christ's Hospital, and that the allowance was always distressingly small. Almost as hungry as when he had sat down, he rose with the others and passed outside.