"Hullo though," says East, pulling up, and taking another look at Tom;
"this'll never do. Haven't you got a hat? We never wear caps here. Only
the louts wear caps. Bless you, if you were to go into the quadrangle
with that thing on, I don't know what'd happen." The very idea was quite
beyond young Master East, and he looked unutterable things.
Tom thought his cap a very knowing affair, but confessed that he had
a hat in his hat-box; which was accordingly at once extracted from the
hind-boot, and Tom equipped in his go-to-meeting roof, as his new friend
called it. But this didn't quite suit his fastidious taste in another
minute, being too shiny; so, as they walk up the town, they dive into
Nixon's the hatter's, and Tom is arrayed, to his utter astonishment, and
without paying for it, in a regulation cat-skin at seven-and-sixpence,
Nixon undertaking to send the best hat up to the matron's room,
School-house, in half an hour.
"You can send in a note for a tile on Monday, and make it all right, you
know," said Mentor; "we're allowed two seven-and-sixers a half, besides
what we bring from home."
Tom by this time began to be conscious of his new social position and
dignities, and to luxuriate in the realized ambition of being a public
school-boy at last, with a vested right of spoiling two seven-and-sixers
in half a year.
"You see," said his friend, as they strolled up towards the
school-gates, in explanation of his conduct, "a great deal depends on
how a fellow cuts up at first.
Pages:
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106