who persisted in walking first with one party and then the other,
and refused point-blank to be distant towards anyone. The other was the
youngest scholar of Brincliffe, one Hugill Trevelyan, commonly known as
"Toppin". He was only seven, and did not understand the meaning of a
civil war. Toppin had been sent to school with his elder brother Escombe
because his parents were abroad.

The March Hare (Massimiliano Graglia, to give him once for all his right
name), who was two years Toppin's senior, and therefore better able to
quarrel to order without knowing the reason why, had a great affection
for him, and, when possible, would take charge of him. Toppin being a
very independent young man, however, this was not often possible. More
frequently he would patronize the March Hare, and explain to him English
words or ways that were puzzling.

It chanced that this afternoon three day-boys, Bacon, Armitage, and
Simmons, were in advance of the rest of the school, who were sauntering
behind in clusters of threes and fours. Hughes was not with Simmons,
being forbidden by his doctor to indulge in swimming at present. Bacon
looked back just as Mr. Anderson was turning in the opposite direction
with his friends.

"Hullo, what sport!" he exclaimed. "Andy's given us the slip!"

"Be joyful! Let's race for the best boxes!" said Armitage. "We shall be
in the water long before the other slow-coaches have reached the baths.
One, two, three--off!"

Now Toppin was one of the group behind, and being naturally fleet of
foot, a race was a thing he could not resist. So he took to his heels
and pursued them.

Jack Brady and the March Hare were walking with Toppin, and if it had
been practicable, the Hare would have accompanied him in the race, but
if there was one thing of which the March Hare was incapable, it was
running. Jack, who had found this out, checked him from making the
attempt.

"Let Toppin go, Harey, and you stay with me," he said. There was a look
of satisfaction on his face. It was fine to see even the smallest
boarder chevying three day-boys!

Toppin ran his fastest, and panted into the baths only a yard behind
Simmons.

"Why, if here isn't the kid! What the dickens has brought you after us,
young un?"

"I saw you--racing," panted Toppin, "and I wanted to see--if I
couldn't--catch you. And I did!"

His thick red hair was tumbled by the wind, and the odd little tuft
which had won him his nickname stuck up very promin