e argument concluded thus primitively,
I being carried off in triumph by the victorious party.

For a period it remained a mystery to me, until I asked explanation of
Norval--we called him "Norval," he being one George Grampian: it was our
wit. From taking joy in teasing me, Norval had suddenly become one of my
greatest admirers. This by itself was difficult enough to understand.
He was in the second eleven, and after Dan the best fighter in the lower
school. If I could understand Norval's change of attitude all would be
plain to me; so when next time, bounding upon me in the cloakroom and
slipping his arm into mine, he clamoured for my company to Camden Town,
I put the question to him bluntly.

"Why should I walk home with you? Why do you want me?"

"Because we like you."

"But why do you like me?"

"Why! Why, because you're such a funny chap. You say such funny things."

It struck me like a slap in the face. I had thought to reach popularity
upon the ladder of heroic qualities. In all the school books I had read,
Leonard or Marmaduke (we had a Marmaduke in the Lower Fifth--they
called him Marmalade: in the school books these disasters are not
contemplated), won love and admiration by reason of integrity of
character, nobility of sentiment, goodness of heart, brilliance of
intellect; combined maybe with a certain amount of agility, instinct in
the direction of bowling, or aptitude for jumping; but such only by the
way. Not one of them had ever said a funny thing, either consciously or
unconsciously.

"Don't be disagreeable, Kelver. Come with us and we will let you into
the team as an extra. I'll teach you batting."

So I was to be their Fool--I, dreamer of knightly dreams, aspirant to
hero's fame! I craved their wonder; I had won their laughter. I had
prayed for popularity; it had been granted to me--in this guise. Were
the gods still the heartless practical jokers poor Midas had found them?

Had my vanity been less I should have flung their gift back in their
faces. But my thirst for approbation was too intense. I had to choose:
Cut capers and be followed, or walk in dignity, ignored. I chose to cut
the capers. As time wore on I found myself striving to cut them quicker,
quainter, thinking out funny stories, preparing ingenuous impromptus,
twisting all ideas into odd expression.

I had my reward. Before long my company was desired by all the school.
But I was never content. I would rather have been the Capt