It was a hard effort for the poor boy to come out with this admission, but candour compelled it.
“Oh, she gave you one for yourself, did she?” and again they laughed. “What a dear old noodle she must be!”
“She was very kind to me,” said Charlie, not liking to hear his friend made fun of.
Just then a master came by.
“What are you three boys doing here?” he asked.
“Please, sir, this is a new boy,” replied he who had been called Joe, “and he doesn’t know where to go.”
“Hum!” said the master, “I thought Mrs Packer would have seen after that. Let me see. You had better take him to your dormitory to-night, Halliday; there’s a vacant bed there. Bring him to the doctor’s room after breakfast to-morrow,” and he passed on.
“Here’s a treat!” exclaimed Joe, with a not ill-natured grin. “This comes of stopping and talking to young scarecrows. Come along, youngster; think yourself lucky you’ve been handed over to me. I wear patent leather boots, and they don’t need as much blacking as some of the fellows’.”
Charlie was at a loss to understand what the material of Master Halliday’s boots had to do with his own alleged good fortune in falling into the hands of such a guardian; but he said nothing, and, reassured by the good-humoured face of his conductor, followed him cheerfully from the chapel.
“Hullo, Joe! got a donkey at last?” cried some one, as the two wended their way up the stairs leading to the dormitories.