've been to tea with the Doctor," says Tom, with great dignity.

"My eye!" cried East. "Oh, so that's why Mary called you back; and you
didn't come to supper. You lost something,--that beef and pickles was
no end good."

"I say, young fellow," cried Hall, detecting Arthur, and catching him
by the collar, "what's your name? Where do you come from? How old are
you?"

Tom saw Arthur shrink back, and look scared as all the group turned to
him, but thought it best to let him answer, just standing by his side
to support in case of need.

"Arthur, sir. I come from Devonshire."

"Don't call me 'sir,' you young muff. How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Can you sing?"

The poor boy was trembling and hesitating. Tom struck in--"You be
hanged, Tadpole. He'll have to sing, whether he can or not, Saturday
twelve weeks, and that's long enough off yet."

"Do you know him at home, Brown?"

"No; but he's my chum in Gray's old study, and it's near prayer-time,
and I haven't had a look at it yet. Come along, Arthur."

Away went the two, Tom longing to get his charge safe under cover,
where he might advise him on his deportment.

"What a queer chum for Tom Brown," was the comment at the fire; and it
must be confessed so thought Tom himself, as he lighted his candle,
and surveyed the new green-baize curtains and the carpet and sofa with
much satisfaction.

"I say, Arthur, what a brick your mother is to make us so cozy! But
look here now; you must answer straight up when the fellows speak to
you, and don't be afraid. If you're afraid, you'll get bullied. And
don't you say you can sing; and don't you ever talk about home, or
your mother and sisters."

Poor little Arthur looked ready to cry.

"But please," said he, "mayn't I talk about--about home to you?"

"Oh, yes, I like it. But don't talk to boys you don't know, or they'll
call you home-sick, or mamma's darling, or some such stuff. What a
jolly desk! is that your's? And what stunning binding! why, your
school-books look like novels."

And Tom was soon deep in Arthur's goods and chattels, all new and good
enough for a fifth-form boy, and hardly thought of his friends outside
till the prayer-bell rang.

I have already described the School-house prayers; they were the same
on the first night as on the other nights, save for the gaps caused by
the absence of those boys who came late, and the line of new boys who
stood altogether at the further table,--of all sorts and sizes