in crimson and gold, according to the simple yet elegant taste
of the owner. Our meals are there served to us by kneeling domestics on
little dishes of silver."

"I suppose you intend that for wit," said the new boy languidly.

"Yes; to do you, to wit," answered Henderson; "but seriously though,
that would be a great deal more like what you have been accustomed to,
wouldn't it, my friend?"

"Very much more," said the boy.

"And would you politely favour this company," said Henderson, with
obsequious courtesy, "by revealing to us your name?"

"My name is Howard Tracy."

"Oh, indeed!" said Henderson, with an air of great satisfaction, and
making a low bow.

"I am called Howard Tracy because I am descended lineally from both
those noble families."

"My goodness! are you really!" said Henderson, clasping his hands in
mock transport. "My dear sir, you are an honour to your race and
country! you are an honour to this school. By Jove, we are proud, sir,
to have you among us!"

"Perhaps you may not know that my uncle is the Viscount Saint George,"
said Tracy patronisingly.

"Is he, though, by George!" said Henderson yawning. "Is that Saint
George who--

"`Swinged the dragon, and e'er since
Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door?'"

But finding that the boy's vanity was too obtuse to be amusing any
longer, he was about to leave him to the rest, when Jones caught sight
of Walter, and called out:--

"Halloa, here's a new fellow grinning at the follies of his kind. Come
here, you dark-haired chap. What's your name?"

"Evson," said Walter, quietly approaching them. Before getting any fun
out of him it was necessary to see what kind of boy he was; and as Jones
hardly knew what line to take, he began on the commonest and most vulgar
tack of catechising him about his family and relations. "What's your
father?"

"My father is a gentleman," said Walter, rather surprised at the
rudeness of the question. "And where do you live?"

"At Semlyn."

"And how old are you?"

"Just thirteen."

"And how many sisters have you?"

Walter rather thought of asking, "What's that to you?" but as he saw no
particular harm in answering the question, and did not want to seem too
stiff-backed, he answered, "Three."

"And are they very beautiful?"

"I don't know; I never asked them. Are yours?" This last question was
so perfectly quiet and unexpected, and Jones was so evidently
discomfited by it, that the res