undoubtedly broadened, his horizon
extended, and he managed to get things into better proportion.

For several people just at this time were influencing Gordon. But none
more so than Ferrers. Ever since the Stoics debate Gordon had become a
profound admirer of the new master, who had banged into the cloistered
Fernhurst life, bubbling over with the ideas of the rising generation,
intolerant of prejudice and tradition, clamorous for reform. It was a
great sight to see him walking about the courts. He was nearly always
dressed the same, in his blue woollen waistcoat, soft collar and serge
suit. He never walked anywhere without at least two books under his arm.
He was recognisable at once. If a stranger had glanced round the courts
in break, and had been asked afterwards if any of the masters had
attracted his attention, he might perhaps have mentioned "the Bull's"
powerful roll; with a smile he might have remarked on the prelatical
Rogers, stalking like Buckingham "half in heaven." There were six or
seven he _might_ have noticed, but there was only one person whom he
must have seen, whom he could not possibly have failed to pick out
immediately, and that was Ferrers. Personality was written on every
feature of his face, every movement was typical of youthful vigour and
action. His half-contemptuous swing suggested a complete scorn of
everything known before 1912. He was the great god of Gordon's soul,
greater even than Lovelace major had been, far greater than Meredith.

As he sat listening to Finnemore discussing artistic questions in form,
he felt wildly impatient to hear Ferrer's opinion. Nothing seemed
settled definitely until Ferrers had spoken, and only the Army and
Matriculation classes had the tremendous advantages of doing English
with him. Most of Ferrer's time was wasted in attempts to drive home
mathematical theories into the dense brain of a lower school set.

As to his influence in the school there could be no two opinions. The
bloods, of course, were too completely settled in their grooves of
Philistinism and self-worship to feel the force of innovation. But even
on a mild character like Foster's his effect was startling. Ferrer's
great theory was: "Let boys take their own time. The adage that it does
a boy good to do what he hates may be all right for the classics, but it
is no good to try that game with literature. Find out what a boy likes.
Encourage him, show you are in sympathy with his taste, and on