The dog wistfully returned his master’s gaze and gave him his paw.
“I believe he understands,” said Reginald, throwing his arms round the dog’s neck. “Oh, Rover, Rover, if I could only take you with me!”
“It would not be so bad then,” sighed Alice.
“It won’t be really bad when I get accustomed to it. Just at first it may be strange, but I shall be sure to like one, at any rate, out of the forty boys. It is going out into the world, and my father says it is well for a boy to learn his level early. On the whole, I am glad I am going; it is only the first bit of it that one is not sure about.”
It was a large room, with desks and benches on either side, and an aisle, as Reginald called it, up the middle. It had four large windows looking out on the playground, and a fireplace at each end, round which some dozen or two of boys were clustered.
Reginald advanced toward the fireplace at the lower end of the room, hoping that some one might speak to him and rid him of the strange, uncomfortable feeling that crept over him; but none of the boys spoke, though they regarded him critically, as if measuring the sort of being he was before committing themselves to any closer acquaintance.
So he sat down on a bench halfway down the school-room, tried to look unconscious, and half wished himself at home again.
“Have any of you fellows got a knife? I want to cut this piece of string,” said a tall boy, addressing the group generally.
In a moment Reginald had taken out his new knife and offered it to the speaker.
“Ah!” said Thompson, the tall boy; “a capital knife. Much obliged; will borrow it for the present;” and after using it he quietly put it into his pocket.