“Whatever should I have done,” thought the grateful Coote to himself, as he rushed off to don his brand-new flannels, “if it hadn’t been for those two bricks?”
The “two bricks” waited somewhat anxiously near the door of the Hall for their “new kid,” and as the clock began to strike they had the joy of seeing him dart resplendent across the Quad, keeping in the shade as much as possible, and looking nervously up at the clock.
“Lamm it on!” called Heathcote, as the bell ceased and the breathless athlete ran into their arms.
“Am I all right?” asked the victim.
“So-so,” said they, surveying him critically, “but you’d better carry your coat over your arm. Look out, Winter will be coming in. You’ve got to sit up there at the top table, in that empty chair. Look alive, or he’ll catch you.”
And as the blushing innocent walked up the room, the observed of all observers, and made straight for the Head Master’s table, our heroes became absorbed in admiration of the plates in front of them, and positively trembled with the emotion their beauty evoked.
Every one was most polite to the abashed new boy on his journey up the room. They ceased talking as they beheld him, and respectfully made room for him. Some even were good enough to assist his progress by word and gesture.
“Where are you going, my pretty maid?” asked Birket of the rosy youth, as he neared his destination.
The poetical suggestion was too much for the Fifth, who caught up the pastoral ditty, and accompanied the measured tread of the wanderer with an undertone chorus of—
“‘Where are you going, my pretty maid?’
‘I’m going to dinner, sir,’ she said.
‘May I go with you, my pretty maid?’
‘Not if I know it, sir,’ she said.”