pour--brutes
certainly both of them; and Cradock--well, he's rather a bargee, but
he's not altogether bad; and Anthony, and Franklin, who are both far
jollier than they used to be; indeed I like old Franklin very much; so
with you and Eden we shall get on famously."

The first few days of term passed very pleasantly. The masters met the
boys in the kindliest spirit, and the boys, fresh from home and with the
sweet influences of home still playing over them, did not begin at once
to reweave the ravelled threads of evil school tradition. They were all
on good terms with each other and with themselves, full of good
resolutions, cheerful, and happy.

All our boys had got their removes. Walter had won a double remove and
was now under his friend Mr Percival. Kenrick was in the second fifth,
and Power, young as he was, had now attained the upper fifth, which
stands next to the dignity of the monitors and the sixth.

The first Sunday of term was a glorious day of early spring, and the
boys, according to their custom, scattered themselves in various groups
in the grounds about Saint Winifred's School. The favourite place of
resort was a broad green field at the back of the buildings, shaded by
noble trees, and half encircled by a bend of the river. Here, on a fine
Sunday, between dinner and afternoon school, you were sure to find the
great majority of the boys walking arm in arm by twos and threes, or
sitting with books on the willow trunks that overhung the stream, or
stretched out at full length upon the grass, and lazily learning
Scripture repetition.

It was a sweet spot and a pleasant time; but Walter generally preferred
his beloved seashore; and on this afternoon he was sitting there talking
to Power, while Eden, perched on the top of a piece of rock close by,
kept murmuring to himself his afternoon lesson. The conversation of the
two boys turned chiefly on the holidays which were just over, and Power
was asking Walter about his visit to Kenrick's house.

"How did you enjoy the visit, Walter?"

"Very much for some things. Mrs Kenrick is the sweetest lady you ever
saw."

"But Ken is always abusing Fuzby--isn't that the name?"

"Yes; it isn't a particularly jolly place, certainly, but he doesn't
make the best of it; he makes up his mind to detest it."

"Why?"

"O, I don't know. They didn't treat his father well. His father was
curate of the place."

"As far as I've seen, Fuzby isn't singular in that