For several days after the arrival of Andrew Garrett, Mr. Shalford, the prefect, watched him closely. Being a cousin of Henning, the prefect thought it was natural that he would associate with the Henning-Bracebridge-Shealey-Beecham set, and be one of those to whom no particular attention need be given. He was not a little surprised to discover that these boys had very little to do with him. There was no overt act on their part by which Garrett could be said to have been snubbed or “dropped,” but the prefect saw that there seemed to be a tacit understanding among these boys to let Garrett severely alone. No one had any particular liking for him, and it is quite probable that had he not been Henning's cousin, he would have experienced several times a very unpleasant quarter of an hour.
Roy Henning was now one of the leaders among the forthcoming graduates. His influence was now as great as Hunter's or Winter's had been in the previous year, and his relationship with Garrett saved that boy much annoyance, which, by his want of tact and a lack of companionableness, he would have brought upon himself.
“You do not seem to get along with the other boys, Garrett,” said Mr. Shalford kindly, one day not long after the conversation recorded in our first chapter.
“I guess I can manage without them,” was the ungracious reply.
“I don't think you can, my boy,” said Mr. Shalford.
“Well, I do. I think I can manage my own affairs.”
The prefect did not know whether this speech was intended as a rebuff to his advances, but he took a charitable view of it, and ascribed it to awkwardness, rather than to intentional boorishness. He said:
“Let me tell you, Andrew, that you can do no such thing.”
“Yes, I can.”