Its fleece was white as snow,
And everywhere that Stocky went
That lamb was sure to go.”
Jeremy, hearing these voices, made a movement as though he would rise and pursue them, then apparently realized his impotence and stayed where he was.
“Beasts!” said Baltimore, and suddenly broke into a miserable crying, a wretched, snivelling, gasping wheeze.
Jeremy looked at him with disgust.
“You do cry the most awful lot,” he said. “If you didn’t cry so much they wouldn’t laugh at you.”
He gloomily reflected over his fate. The summer term, only a week old, that should have been the happiest of the year, was already the worst that he had known at Thompson’s.
On his arrival, full of health, vigour and plans, old Thompson had taken him aside and said:
“Now, Cole, I’ve something for you to do this term. I want you to be kind to a new boy who has never been away from home before and knows nothing about school life. I want you to be kind to him, look after him, see that no one treats him harshly, make him feel that he is still at home. You are getting one of the bigger boys here now, and you must look after the small ones.”