Well might Stanley ask the question. His young cousin had attired himself in the most extraordinary fashion. His trousers—plaid ones—were turned up three or four inches at the bottom, as though for the purpose of displaying to the utmost advantage the white spats on his patent shoes, while surmounting the lower half of him was a gorgeous white waistcoat, cutaway jacket, and tall hat. Paul could not help smiling, for he at once saw the reason of this remarkable attire. Young Moncrief had followed out precisely the instructions sent him by his friend Plunger.

"He seems to have got himself up regardless of expense, Stan," smiled Paul. "He means making an impression on the school. But you needn't scowl so, old fellow. It's all done for your sake. He thinks it the correct form, and doesn't want to let you down."

"Correct form—don't want to let me down!" repeated Stanley, bewildered. "What on earth are you driving at?"

Thereupon Paul related to Stanley the conversation he had had with Harry on the day he had visited Oakville, and the mysterious document he had shown him from Plunger as to the correct way to dress, and what to do on entering Garside.

"And the little soft has nibbled at Plunger's bait," laughed Stanley. "It isn't a bad joke, and I suppose I mustn't spoil it."

So Stanley and Paul kept out of the way of the throng of boys who, with Harry Moncrief in their midst, were making their way across the grounds in the direction of the schoolhouse. Harry, with his arm linked in Plunger's—a dark boy, with mischief-sparkling eyes—seemed quite unconscious of the fact that the boys were laughing at him.

"Bax is busy with some of the other freshers," Plunger was saying; "so you'd better get over your introduction to Mrs. Trounce, and we'll hunt up old Bax after."

"All right, Freddy," answered Harry, quite elated at the thought that he had at last entered a public school where there were boys bigger and older than himself, and that he was being initiated into its mysteries and ways. "After that I suppose I can find my cousin?"

"Oh, yes!"

"And there's a chum of his I met at home during the vac.—Paul Percival. Do you know him?"

"Ra-ther. He's one of the seniors—in the same form as your cousin. I didn't know that you knew him."

"I've only met him once, but I should like to meet him again. Pater thinks no end of him."

"Oh, you'll see plenty of him at Garside—a good deal too much. Those Upper Form fellows think no end of themselves, I can tell you. This way to the divine Trounce. You haven't forgotten?"

"Of course not; I've got all the rules by heart. See, here's the photo."

He drew from his pocket a photograph of himself as he spoke, with some writing on the bottom, which he handed to Plunger. The boys following behind grew black in the face trying to choke down their laughter.

"Jolly good of you, Harry!" exclaimed Plunger, regarding the photograph admiringly. "I didn't know you were such an awfully good-looking fellow. Trounce will think a lot of it, I can tell you."

The matron's rooms were a modern addition to the school, at the end of the building. Mrs. Trounce, who was at heart rather an amiable woman, was busily engaged in her room sorting out an endless array of boys' wearing apparel. Her motherly face, therefore, wore an unusually severe and worried expression as the boys entered the room. The windows outside were suddenly darkened with innumerable faces peering through the window.

"I have the honour—the distinguished privilege," said Plunger, with an elaborate bow to the matron, "of presenting to you Master Henry Moncrief, of Oakville."

Upon this he gave Harry a nudge, and Harry promptly fell on his right knee before the matron, and drawing from his pocket the photograph he had just shown to Plunger, presented it to Mrs. Trounce with a bow, and "Allow me, madam."

A titter came from the faces pressed against the windows outside. Mrs. Trounce took the photograph. The severity of her face did not relax, nor did it soften when, looking from the photograph, she saw the words beneath it, "With love and kind regards."

She looked for the moment as though she were about to administer to Harry a sound box on the ears, but, altering her mind, she bestowed it instead on the ears of Master Plunger.

"With my love and kind regards, Master Plunger!" she exclaimed.

The titters outside grew louder.

"Oh, thanks—so much!" said Plunger, with his hand to his ear at this totally unexpected reception, which he had anticipated to be the portion of his chum. "Come along, Harry; we won't waste any more of Mrs. Trounce's time. She's very busy. I'll show you your sleeping quarters, and then we'll hunt up Bax."

He beat a hasty retreat from the room, half anticipating that if he stayed longer the matron might seek to balance matters by boxing the other ear.

"Why did she do that, Freddy?" asked Harry, when they had got safely from the room.

"It was your photo that did it, Hal; that's quite certain. I noticed how she changed colour when she looked at it. It must have reminded her of some unhung scoundrel she's met with in the course of her career, and she took it out of me. She knows I like to suffer for my friends. That's my great weakness. I hope you'll make a better impression on Bax."

He led the way as he spoke through a winding passage and up the staircase to the dormitories. He entered one on the door of which was painted "E." It was a good-sized room, with six cubicles, side by side, with their heads to the windows. Over each was a text of Scripture, while on a larger card, at one end of the dormitory, in illuminated letters, were the words, "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet." At the other end was a corresponding card, on which was printed, "Motto for the year, 'Be ye stedfast, unmovable.—1 Cor. xv. 58.'"

"There's your cubicle—next to mine; so that'll be jolly," said Plunger, pointing to a couple of beds at the end of the room. "The other fellows in the dorm. are Baldry, Sedgefield, and Viner."

"But that only makes three. There are four beds."

"Oh, yes! The fourth bed was Mellor's, but his pater took him away for some reason or other last term. He's gone over to the enemy."

"The enemy?"

"Don't you know who the enemy is? The Beetles—the bounders at St. Bede's. Pretty saints they are, too! You'll know enough of them before you've finished here, I warrant. They call us 'Gargoyles.' Cheeky bounders, aren't they?"

Before Hal had finished there! Lightly the words were spoken. Neither paid much heed to them. But how much was to happen before Hal Moncrief had finished at Garside. Neither could see into the future—behind that veil which young and old are ever trying to peer through, but which God in His infinite love and mercy keeps ever close drawn. That lamp of His—the lamp of which the card spoke at the end of the dormitory—is for ever burning, however, and there is no fear of our footsteps stumbling so long as we walk by its light. Then the dark veil which hides the future need have no terror for us, boys and girls; for we know that when it is at last lifted it will only reveal to us the still greater light beyond.

"Baldry and Sedgefield are decent fellows. I don't care much for Viner. He's rather deep, and does fagging now and then for Newall—a chap in the same form as your cousin. By the by, don't mention Newall to your cousin. It's like waving a red flag before a mad bull. They're this way."

He crossed his two forefingers as he spoke, as an indication of Stanley and Newall's attitude to each other.

Hal pondered over this information for a moment. His cousin, then, had his enemies? By the brief glimpse which Plunger had given him of the life at Garside, he could see that it was not all plain sailing. There were deeper currents than any he had seen at Gaffer Quelch's school. The waves beat with stronger force, and there were shoals and rocks.

"Who'll take the empty bed? Will it be left empty?"

"There's not much fear of that. I wish there would, but they're sure to put some fresher in it. I hope he's a decent chap, that's all! If he isn't, we must make it warm for him. But come along, let's get outside!"

They turned to the door, but as they did so it opened, and Mr. Weevil entered, followed by Hibbert, the weak little hunchback, whom we have already met with in the grounds. The deep-set eyes of the science master went to Plunger, from Plunger to Hal, whom he had never seen before.

"Who are you? What are you doing here, sir?"

He spoke in a sharp, quick voice, and Harry knew at once that he was in the presence of one of the masters, and the same instinct somehow told him that the master was Mr. Weevil, of whom he had heard, but never seen.

"I'm Harry Moncrief, cousin of Stanley Moncrief, sir."

"Oh!" The master half closed his eyes as he spoke. Hal thought that he was going off to sleep as he stood there. Plunger knew better. He knew that Mr. Weevil had the habit of seeing a good deal more through his half-closed eyes than when they were wide open, and that he was taking "full stock"—a mental inventory—of Harry. He kept them closed for so long that Harry felt more and more certain that he was going to sleep. When he thought he was right off, the master startled him by opening them to their widest extent, as much as to say, "Thought me napping, did you? But I'm not! I'm awake!—wide awake!—very much awake!"

"Glad to meet you!" he said in a softer voice. "Trust you will get on well at Garside. Your father is a gentleman of some distinction. I hope you will follow in his footsteps. This is Hibbert"—introducing the hunchback. "He also is a new boy. I trust you will be friends—close friends. He has no friends or relatives in England. His father is abroad on foreign service. That appeals to your sympathy, as it has appealed to mine—does it not?—and will draw you closer to Hibbert. He will occupy this dormitory—the bed vacated by Mellor." Then, turning to Hibbert: "I hope you will prove more loyal to Garside than your predecessor—Mellor, I mean—and that you will endeavour, along with Moncrief here, to keep up the best traditions of Garside. You see our motto for the year"—he pointed to the motto as he spoke—"'Be ye stedfast, unmovable.'"

"Yes, sir."

"Keep to that, and you won't go far wrong."

When he had given this advice, the master left the dormitory with Hibbert, who, occupied in observing his new quarters and companions, had not spoken during the interview.

"A queer sort of chap, our new bedfellow, isn't it, Freddy?"

"And Weevil's a beastly fraud!" said Plunger, with a shrug of the shoulders. "But, come, we must hurry up! You haven't yet been introduced to good old Bax."

Soon they were in the grounds again. The same crowd of boys that had followed them to the matron's was hanging about the door as they went out, and began tittering again as Harry came in sight.

Harry did not notice them, nor did he notice the wink that Plunger gave them as he glanced in their direction.

"Great Scott!" he suddenly exclaimed. "There's Bax! Hurry up, Hal!"

And, linking his arm in Harry's, he hurried him in the direction of a short, somewhat corpulent man in buttons, who was just coming from the lodge.

"Is it the porter?" asked Harry.

"Yes, the porter. You haven't forgotten the rules? Hurry up!"