ds of warning and encouragement. It surprised me that, in spite
of my scholastic honours, I was entered in the same form as Brown. But
on the whole I was more pleased than disappointed, for I loved my old
comrade dearly, and after all, if he _was_ placed above his merits, it
wasn't his fault.

"It's a pity you aren't a day boy," said he, as he walked across
afterwards; "we could have larks together."

"It's a pity you aren't in the school," said I.

"Oh, our chaps say it's rather stale to be in the school. I don't see
why your fellows should be looked down on, but they are."

"Pooh! you should hear our chaps talk about the day boys. Do you know,
Dicky, I'm president of a club, a Philosophical Club; and day boys
aren't eligible. I'm awfully sorry; I should have liked to have you
in."

"That's just what I thought about the Urbans. They don't let in any
fellow who's in the school--only day boys--they're obliged to draw the
line somewhere, you know. Do you know Redwood, the captain, is a senior
Urban?"

"I know. Our chaps say it's a soak for the school having a day boy for
captain."

"Oh! _We_ don't think so! I say, do you see that chap there?"

The youth at whom he pointed was the friendly senior of whom I had
inquired the way to bed last night.

"Rather; he's a Sharper. Why, and what about him?"

"He's a hot man, they say, and the most popular chap at Low Heath. He's
captain of the Rifles."

"What's his name? Do you know?"

"Crofts, or Crofter, or something like that. What's up?"

He might well ask!

"Crofter!" exclaimed I. "My word, Dicky, I've been and done it!"

"Done what?"

"Why, I called him a beast yesterday."

"You did? You're getting on, Jones iv."

"No, without humbug, I did. I didn't know it was Crofter, and I told
him Tempest thought he was a beast."

"If Tempest says so, he probably is," remarked the unemotional Dicky.

"But what's to become of me? How was I to know?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you'd better go and tell him you were mistaken."

"I don't like to. I say, what a downer he'll have on me! I half wish I
was a day boy, after all."

"It's a pity you aren't. We've a jolly lot in the Urban Minors; quite a
literary lot."

"Bother the Urban Minors!" said I, looking dismally after the retreating
form of Crofter.

"It'll take you all your time to bother some of them. There's Flitwick,
he's--"

"Hang Flitwick! Whatever am I to do, Dicky?"

"I wouldn't