"Brown, young Brooke wants you in the sixth-form room."
THE SHAKE-HANDS.
Up went Tom to the summons, and found the magnates[45] sitting at their supper.
"Well, Brown," said young Brooke, nodding to him, "how do you feel?"
"Oh, very well, thank you; only I've sprained my thumb, I think."
"Sure to do that in a fight. Well, you hadn't the worst of it, I could see. Where did you learn that throw?"
"Down in the country, when I was a boy."
"Hullo! why, what are you now? Well, never mind, you're a plucky fellow. Sit down and have some supper."
Tom obeyed, by no means loath. He ate and drank, listening to the pleasant talk, and wondering how soon he should be in the fifth, and one of that much-envied society.
As he got up to leave, Brooke said: "You must shake hands to-morrow morning; I shall come and see that done after first lesson."