Special Service.
My introduction to Low Heath at large next day turned out to be a far less formidable affair than I had anticipated. I had long since given up the notion that the whole school would rise at my appearance and salute me. I had even ceased to expect that they would all stare and make remarks. But I was hardly prepared for the absolute indifference with which I was permitted to answer to my name at “Great register.” Not a soul took any notice of me, even when Dr England explained to me publicly that as there were already three other Joneses in the School, I would please answer in future to the title of Jones iv., which I humbly promised to do. Brown, I was not sorry to hear, was to be designated as Brown iii. for similar reasons.
The ceremony being over, the new boys were trooped up to the head master’s library, and there told off to their respective forms with a few words of warning and encouragement. It surprised me that, in spite of my scholastic honours, I was entered in the same form as Brown. But on the whole I was more pleased than disappointed, for I loved my old comrade dearly, and after all, if he was placed above his merits, it wasn’t his fault.
“It’s a pity you aren’t a day boy,” said he, as he walked across afterwards; “we could have larks together.”
“It’s a pity you aren’t in the school,” said I.
“Oh, our chaps say it’s rather stale to be in the school. I don’t see why your fellows should be looked down on, but they are.”
“Pooh! you should hear our chaps talk about the day boys. Do you know, Dicky, I’m president of a club, a Philosophical Club; and day boys aren’t eligible. I’m awfully sorry; I should have liked to have you in.”
“That’s just what I thought about the Urbans. They don’t let in any fellow who’s in the school—only day boys—they’re obliged to draw the line somewhere, you know. Do you know Redwood, the captain, is a senior Urban?”
“I know. Our chaps say it’s a soak for the school having a day boy for captain.”
“Oh! We don’t think so! I say, do you see that chap there?”