walked through
the crowd Martin noticed a group of bloods with Leopard in their midst.
Spots saw him and greeted him quite effusively. It was a tremendous
moment, and afforded Martin a fine thrill of pride.

"Who was that?" asked his aunt.

"Oh, that was Leopard. He's a pre at Berney's. An awful blood, and
ripping too."

Somehow or other he had never informed the Berrisfords that he did
menial work or wrote Greek prose for another.

Then he came across Cullen and Neave, resplendent with white spats and
yellow canes. They too were ready to greet him, almost as if he were
one of their chosen circle.

"Got a seat?" said Neave.

"No."

"Well come into our carriage. We want to get a gang of Berney's. Two
swine from Randall's had the cheek to shove their bags in here, but
when they sloped away to get papers we plugged their stuff into the
guard's van and now they can't find their carriage. You'd better bag a
pew here."

This was fame and ecstasy indeed. Martin hurriedly said good-bye to
his uncle and aunt and made certain of his place in Neave's carriage.
When the train had left the station they settled down to talk and for a
splendid half-hour they refought the battle of the pitchers. Then they
talked theatres and ultimately the more experienced told of amorous
conquests. Martin had been content to listen for the most part and now
he relapsed into complete silence. He supposed there must be something
in this girl business, though as yet he didn't understand. But he was
not unhappy. He sat with the forefinger and thumb of his right hand in
his waistcoat pocket and felt the milled edges of two sovereigns which
his uncle had just given him. Two pounds, forty shillings, four
hundred and eighty pence! He possessed the equivalent of one hundred
and sixty poached eggs or two hundred and forty ham rolls. It was a
ravishing thought.

VII

Scholars, like nations, are happiest when they have no history: judged
by that standard, both Elfrey School and Berney's house must have been
fortunate. Everything ran smoothly and Martin flourished in mind and
body. He not only reached the Upper Sixth in the shortest possible
time, but also played with average success in his house teams. Without
being a brilliant scholar, he always did sound work: without being a
born athlete, he could easily hold his own among boys of his size and
age. Generally speaking, he had no adventures. Beyond a few petty
rows with