und. There he stood, looking as cool and
unconcerned as if he had not moved from the spot. The feat he had
performed, though not difficult, was one which neither Dawson nor
Bouldon had yet attempted. It raised him wonderfully in the opinion of
those young gentlemen.

"Very well, young one," exclaimed Tommy in a patronising tone. "I did
not think you'd have done it half as well. However, I suppose it's
_the_ trick you have practised. You couldn't do, now, what that big
fellow there, Blackall, is about?"

"Oh, yes," said Ernest quietly. "I can kick the bar, or swing on it, or
circle it, or do the grasshopper, or hang by my legs, or make a true
lover's knot, or pass through my arms, or hang by my feet. You fancy
that I am boasting, but the fact is this, my father won't let us do
anything imperfectly. If we do it at all, he says, we must do it well."

"Oh, I dare say that's all right, young one," observed Tommy, turning
away with Dawson. "I see how it is. He has been coached well up in
gymnastics, but when he comes to play cricket or football it will be a
very different affair. A fellow may learn one thing or so at home very
well, but he soon breaks down when he comes to practice work."

A few only of the boys had remarked Ernest's performances. Most of them
were too much engaged in their own exercises to think of him. He felt
rather solitary when left to himself, and wished that Dawson and Bouldon
would have stopped to talk to him, not that he particularly admired
their manners. He was well prepared, however, to meet all sorts of
characters. School and its inner life had been described to him by his
father with faithful accuracy.

Although at the time few, if any, private schools were to be found
superior to Grafton Hall, Ernest did not expect to find it as happy a
place as his own home, much less a paradise. A number of little boys
were playing a game of ring-taw in a corner of the yard. Ernest walked
up to them. No one took any notice of him, but went on with their game.
"Knuckle down," was the cry. A sturdy little fellow, with a
well-bronzed hand, was peppering away, knocking marble after marble out
of the ring with his taw, and bid fair to win all that remained. Ernest
had long ago given up marbles himself, but he did not pretend to forget
how to play with them. He thought that if he offered to join them it
might serve as an introduction.

"If you will let me, I shall like to play with you,"