iked, his brother's friend Wraysford.

However, he did justice to the tea, bad as it was, and the sardines
Oliver had brought from Maltby. He was relieved, too, to find that his
brother was not greatly exasperated on hearing of the various raids
which had been made on his provisions, or greatly disconcerted at Mr
Bullinger's modest request for half a pint of jam.

Then, as the talk fell upon home, and cricket, and other cheerful
topics, the small boy gradually forgot his troubles, even down to the
Fiji War, and finished up his first evening at Saint Dominic's in a good
deal more cheerful frame of mind than that in which he had begun it.

CHAPTER THREE.

A MORNING WITH A TADPOLE.

It so happened that on the day following Stephen Greenfield's arrival at
Saint Dominic's, the head master, Dr Senior, was absent.

This circumstance gave great satisfaction to the new boy when his
brother told him of it, as it put off for another twenty-four hours the
awful moment when he would be forced to expose his ignorance before that
terrible personage.

"You'd better stick about in my room while I'm in school," said Oliver,
"and then you can come down to the cricket-field and see the practice.
By the way, some of the fellows may be in to bag my ink; they always run
short on Friday; but don't let them take it, for I shall want it
to-night. Ta, ta; give my love to the _mater_ if you're writing home.
I'll be back for you after the twelve bell."

And off he went, leaving Stephen to follow his own sweet devices for
three hours.

That young gentleman was at no loss how to occupy part of the time. He
must write home. So after much searching he unearthed a crumpled sheet
of note-paper from one of the drawers, and set himself to his task. As
he wrote, and his thoughts flew back to the home and the mother he had
left only yesterday, his spirits fell, and the home-sickness came over
him worse than ever. What would he not give to change places with this
very letter, and go back home!

Here, no one cared for him, every one seemed to despise him. He wasn't
used to those rough public schools, and would never get on at Saint
Dominic's. Ah! that wretched Tenth Fiji War. What _would_ become of
him to-morrow when the Doctor would be back? There was no one to help
him. Even Oliver seemed determined to let him fight his own battles.

Poor boy! He sat back in his chair and let his mind wander once more
back to the snug little home