and a splendid ragger; Claremont's sent two typical dormice
in Forbes and Scobie; Buller's provided no one. Briault hailed from
Rogers. It was his boast that he could imitate any kind of animal from a
dog to a hyena. Benson, the only member of Abercrombie's, was entirely
insignificant, and actually did some work for the first two lessons. But
it was impossible to work long in such surroundings; and tales of the
extra French set are still told in whispers, after lights out, in the
upper dormitories.

The opening was sensational. No sooner had Trundle taken his seat than
Dyke leapt to his feet, jumped on the desk, jumped off it into the vast
paper basket, upset that, charged up to Trundle, shook him by the hand,
and began to pour out words: "My dear sir, how are you? How is Mrs
Trundle, and the little Trundles? Have you had a pleasant Christmas? I
have, sir. This, sir, is your extra French set. The French set--Mr
Trundle; Mr Trundle--the French set." Amid a beating of desks Dyke
returned to his seat. Trundle was used to this. But he had rather hoped
his new set would be composed for the most part of honest young
scholars. It was a disappointment; still, he had grown used to it. Life
had not been too kind to him.

"Now, let me see," he began, "who's the senior man here?"

Immediately everyone except Benson stood up. "I am, sir."

"But you can't all be the senior."

"Yes, sir; we are," was the unanimous answer.

"You see, sir," Gordon explained, "I am the cleverest and should be the
senior, but Mansell there, that dolt with the tie-pin, has been longer
in the school, and he's got his Seconds, and rather fancies himself.
Dyke has taken longer to reach IV. A than anyone else in the school's
history, and thinks that a sufficient claim to be senior. Lovelace, oh,
well, he's--well, I don't know what he is. Lovelace, you swine, what are
you?"

"Confound you, man!" shouted the enraged three-quarter. "Who the
hell----"

"Lovelace," broke in Trundle, "I think you may keep your reflections on
the future life till afterwards. We will sit in alphabetical order."

It is incredible how long it takes for ten boys to change their places.
It was a long process. Books fell to the right and to the left. There
were murmurs of "Damn you, man, that's my grammar!" or "Confound you,
Benson!" "Where the hell is my dictionary?" Twice Benson had been sent
flying into the waste-paper basket; three times had Dyke driven a
compass into the b