the leader of the Lower School boys at the Manor.
The Fifth were civil to him, recognizing, perhaps, the expediency of
leaving him alone ever since the incident of the cricket stump. The
Sixth found him the quickest of the fags and uncommonly obliging. His
house-master signed reports which neither praised nor blamed. To Dirty
Dick the boy was the son of a man who could write a cheque for a
million.

* * * * *

Two things worthy of record happened within a month; the one of lesser
importance can be set down first. Charles Desmond, Caesar's father, came
down to Harrow and gave a luncheon at the King's Head. From time
immemorial the Desmonds had been educated on the Hill. The family had
produced some famous soldiers, a Lord Chancellor, and a Prime Minister.
In the Fourth Form Room the stranger may read their names carved in oak,
and they are carved also in the hearts of all ardent Harrovians. Mr.
Desmond, though a Cabinet Minister, found time to visit Harrow once at
least in each term. He always chose a whole holiday, and after attending
eleven-o'clock Bill[10] in the Yard, would carry off his son and his
son's friends. The School knew him and loved him. To the thoughtful he
stood for the illustrious past, the epitome of what John Lyon's[11] boys
had fought for and accomplished. Four sons had he--Harrovians all. Of
these Caesar was youngest and last. Each had distinguished himself on the
Hill either in work or play, or in both.

Charles Desmond stood upon the step just above the master who was
calling Bill.

"That's Caesar's father," said Scaife. "I'm going to lunch with him.
Isn't he a topper?"

John's eyes were popping out of his face. He had never seen any man like
this resplendent, stately personage, smiling and nodding to the biggest
fellows in the school.

"And my governor says," Scaife added, "that he's not a rich man, nothing
much to speak of in the way of income over and above his screw as a
Cabinet Minister."

Scaife moved away, and John could hear him say to another boy, in an
easy, friendly tone, "Mr. Desmond told Caesar that he wanted to meet
_me_--very civil of him--eh?"

Presently John was in line waiting to pass by the steps.

"Verney?"

"Here, sir."

He was hurrying by, with a backward glance at the great man. Suddenly
Caesar's father beckoned, nodding cheerily. John ascended the steps, to
feel the grasp of a strong hand, to hear a ringing voice.

"You're Joh