lashes upon you. You have been betrayed! The secrets you
have whispered in private have become the property of the entire school;
and the friend you fancied so genial and sympathising has made your
open-hearted frankness the subject of a blackguard jest, and exposed you
to all the agony of schoolboy ridicule!

With quivering lips and flushed face, half shame, half anger, you dash
beneath the clothes, and wish the floor would open beneath you. When
the getting-up bell sounds, you slink into your clothes amid the titters
of your companions. It is weeks before you hear the end of your nurse,
your pocket money, your sister, and your sweetheart; and for you all the
little pleasure of your first term at school has gone.

But what of Jerry? He comes to you in the morning as if nothing had
happened, with a "How are you, old fellow?"

You are so indignant you can't speak; all you are able to do is to glare
in scorn and anger.

"Afraid you're not well," remarks the sneak; "change of scene, you know.
I hope you'll soon be better."

Just as he is going you manage, though almost bursting with the effort,
to stammer out--"What do you mean by telling tales of me to all the
fellows?" He looks perplexed, as if at a loss for your meaning. "Tell
tales of you?" says he. "I don't know what you mean, old chap."

"Yes, you do. How did they all know all about me this morning, if you
hadn't told them?"

Then, as if your meaning suddenly dawned upon him, he breaks into a
forced laugh, and exclaims--

"Oh, the chaff between Tom and Jack! I was awfully angry with Jack for
beginning it--awfully angry. We happened to be talking last night, you
know, about home, and I just mentioned what you had told me, never
thinking the fellow would be such a cad as to let it out."

You are so much taken aback at the impudence of the fellow, that you let
him walk away without another word. If you have derived no other
advantage from your first day at school, you have at least learned to
know the character of Jerry. And you find it out better as you go on.

If you quarrel with him, and threaten him with condign punishment, he
will report you to the doctor, and you'll get an imposition. If you sit
up beyond hours reading, he'll contrive to let the monitors know, and
your book will be confiscated; if you happen to be "spinning a yarn"
with a chum in your study, you will generally find, if you open the door
suddenly, that he is not very far fr