mile. "I was at one myself once."

"But," argued I, "you are only a--"

No--that wouldn't quite do to one's own mother. So I stopped short.

"Besides," said she, "Mr Girdler thinks it the best thing, and he is
your guardian."

This was unanswerable, and I gave it up.

But I was not at all consoled. The bare idea of Tempest, or Brown, or
any of the other fellows getting to know that I, Thomas Jones, aged
thirteen, who had held my own at Plummer's, and played in my day in the
third Eleven, was going to attend a girls' school, and be taught Latin
and sums by a--a female, was enough to make my hair stand on end. How
they would laugh and wax merry at my expense! How they would draw
pictures of me in the book covers with long curls and petticoats! How
they would address me as "Jemima," and talk to one another about me in a
high falsetto voice! How they would fall into hysterics when they met
me, and weep copiously, and ask me to lend them hairpins and parasols!
I knew what it would be like only too well, and I quaked as I imagined
it.

My one hope was that at Fallowfield nobody knew me; at least, nobody who
mattered.

"At least," said I to myself, "if I am to go and herd with a parcel of
girls, I'll let them see I'm something better than a girl myself."

When I presented myself at my guardian's office on the appointed morning
in order to start on my commercial career, I met with a reception even
less flattering than I had pictured to myself.

Mr Girdler was out, and had left no instructions about me. So for two
hours I sat in the waiting-room, balancing my cap on my knee, and trying
to work up the spots on the dingy wall-paper into geometrical figures.

When at last he came, so far from commending my patience, he had the
face to reproach me for sitting there idle instead of getting some one
to set me to work.

"You are not at school here, remember," said he, by way of being
sarcastic; "you come here to work."

"I worked at school," said I meekly.

"So I hear," said he. "Now go to Mr Evans, and tell him you want a
job."

Whereupon my genial guardian quitted me. But he came back a moment
after.

"Remember you are to be at the girls' school at 2:30. Tell Miss
Bousfield you are the little boy I spoke to her about, and mind you
behave yourself up there."

Was ever a young man in such a shameful disgrace?

Three days ago I had imagined myself everybody; two days ago I had at
least imagined myself s