ed, when Avery discovered, while
they were changing into football shorts, that Michael wore combinations
instead of pants and vest. Combinations were held to be the depth of
effeminacy, and Avery often enquired when Michael was going to appear in
petticoats and stays. Michael spoke to Miss Carthew about these
combinations which at the very moment of purchase he had feared, but
Miss Carthew insisted that they were much healthier than the modish
pants and vest, and Michael was not allowed to change the style of his
underclothing. In desperation he tied some tape round his waist, but the
observant Avery noticed this ruse, and Michael was more cruelly teazed
than ever. Then one Monday morning the worst blow of all fell suddenly.
The boys at Randell's had on Saturday morning to take down from
dictation the form-list in a home-book, which had to be brought back on
Monday morning signed by a parent, so that no boy should escape the
vigilance of the paternal eye. Of course, Miss Carthew always signed
Michael's home-book and so far no master had asked any questions. But
Mr. Macrae said quite loudly on this Monday morning:

"Who is this Maud Carthew that signs your book, Fane?"

Michael felt the pricking of the form's ears and blushed hotly.

"My mother's away," he stammered.

"Oh," said Mr. Macrae bluntly, "and who is this person then?"

Michael nearly choked with shame.

"My governess--my sister's governess, I mean," he added, desperately
trying to retrieve the situation.

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Macrae. "I see."

The form tittered, while the crimson Michael stumbled back to his desk.
It was a long time before Avery grew tired of Miss Carthew or before the
class wearied of crying 'Maudie' in an united falsetto whenever Michael
ventured to speak. Mr. Macrae, too, made cruel use of his advantage, for
whenever Michael tripped over an irregular verb, Mr. Macrae would
address to the ceiling in his soft unpleasant voice sarcastic remarks
about governesses, while every Monday morning he would make a point of
putting on his glasses to examine Michael's home-book very carefully.
The climax of Michael's discomfort was reached, when a snub-nosed boy
called Jubb with a cockney accent asked him what his father was.

"He's dead," Michael answered.

"Yes, but what was he?" Jubb persisted.

"He was a gentleman," said Michael.

Avery happened to overhear this and was extremely witty over Michael's
cockiness, so witty that Michael was