re they left, Michael and Mrs. Carthew walked
round the garden together, while Mrs. Carthew talked to him of the new
life on which he was shortly going to enter.

"Well, Michael," she said, "in a week, so my daughter tells me, you will
be going to school."

"Yes," corroborated Michael.

"Dear me," Mrs. Carthew went on. "I'm glad I'm not going to school for
the first time; you won't like it at all at first, and then you'll like
it very much indeed, and then you'll either go on liking it very much or
you'll hate it. If you go on liking it--I mean when you're quite
old--sixteen or seventeen--you'll never do anything, but if you hate it
then, you'll have a chance of doing something. I'm glad my daughter Maud
is going to look after you. She's a good girl."

Michael thought how extraordinary it was to hear Miss Carthew spoken of
in this manner and felt shy at the prospect of having to agree verbally
with Mrs. Carthew.

"Take my advice--never ask questions. Be content to make a fool of
yourself once or twice, but don't ask questions. Don't answer questions
either. That's worse than asking. But after all, now I'm giving advice,
and worst of anything is listening to other people's advice. So pick
yourself some plums and get ready, for the chaise will soon be at the
door."

Nurse was very grumpy when he and Miss Carthew arrived. She did not seem
at all pleased by the idea of Miss Carthew living in the house, and
muttered to herself all the time. Michael did no more lessons in the
week that remained before the autumn term began; but he had to go with
Miss Carthew to various outfitters and try on coats and suits and
generally be equipped for school. The afternoons he spent in Carlington
Road, trying to pick up information about St. James' Preparatory School
from the boys already there. One of these boys was Rodber, the son of a
doctor, and probably by his manner and age and appearance the most
important boy in the school. At any rate Michael found it difficult to
believe that there could exist a boy with more right to rule than this
Rodber with his haughty eye and Eton suit and prominent ears and quick
authoritative voice.

"Look here," said Rodber one evening, "can you borrow your mail-cart? I
saw your sister being wheeled in one this morning. We've got three
mail-carts and we want a fourth for trains."

Michael ran as fast as he could back to Sixty-four, rushed down the area
steps, rang the bell half a dozen times and t