Mr Tugman had not yet had time to examine Digby, so he sat at his desk reading the Swiss Family of Robinson, which he confessedly preferred to lessons. Each master had a class up before him; there were some crying; a good deal of caning on the fingers—a particularly disagreeable punishment, in cold weather especially—and a considerable amount of blundering and hesitation. A few quick runs round the playground would have saved a great deal of suffering and discontent; but Mr Sanford never went out in the morning, and it never occurred to him that the blood in his pupils’ veins would circulate more freely with a little brisk exercise, and give vivacity to their intellects.
Breakfast was at last announced by the constant sounding bell. It varied little from tea, except that those who liked bread-and-milk might have it. It was served out in large basins.
Digby, however, preferred the tea. He kept his eye sharply on his mug, to see that it was not tampered with. He observed Tommy Bray take a pinch of salt, and then ask for a cup of tea, though he had a basin of bread-and-milk before him.
“Tommy Bray,” cried Digby, in an undertone, “you had better not. Susan, bring me that mug of tea, please. He does not want it.”
Susan, remembering John Pratt’s half sovereign, brought Digby the tea intact; and Tommy was disappointed of his trick.
Several other boys, however, commenced their jokes on the new comer as soon as their spirits had revived a little, by their appetites being satisfied; but none of those in his room attempted anything of the sort; and it soon became whispered about that the new boy was a plucky little cock, and that his arm had a great lump of muscle in it, as big almost as Scarborough’s, which he was so fond of exhibiting.
After breakfast, the boys went into the playground. It was cold enough to make everybody wish to run about as much as they could. Hoops were the order of the day; and Farnham came up and asked Digby if he had got a hoop.
“No; I never trundled one in my life, but I will try,” he answered. “I did not know that gentlemen used them. I have only seen the boys in the streets at Osberton play with them.”
Farnham thought that he was supercilious in his remark. “Oh, then, I suppose you would not condescend to trundle a hoop?” he exclaimed, turning away.
“But I would though, gladly,” cried Digby; “if you can lend me one, and just show me the knack of the thing, I shall like it very much.”