At the fire, at the farther end of the passage, was a crowd of boys in
loud talk and laughter. There was a sudden pause when the door opened,
and then a great shout of greeting, as Tom was recognized marching down
the passage.
"Hullo, Brown! where do you come from?"
"Oh, I've been to tea with the Doctor," says Tom, with great dignity.
"My eye!" cried East, "Oh! so that's why Mary called you back, and you
didn't come to supper. You lost something. That beef and pickles was no
end good."
"I say, young fellow," cried Hall, detecting Arthur and catching him by
the collar, "what's your name? Where do you come from? How old are you?"
Tom saw Arthur shrink back and look scared as all the group turned to
him, but thought it best to let him answer, just standing by his side to
support in case of need.
"Arthur, sir. I come from Devonshire."
"Don't call me 'sir,' you young muff. How old are you?"
"Thirteen."
"Can you sing?"
The poor boy was trembling and hesitating. Tom struck in--"You be
hanged, Tadpole. He'll have to sing, whether he can or not, Saturday
twelve weeks, and that's long enough off yet."
"Do you know him at home, Brown?"
"No; but he's my chum in Gray's old study, and it's near prayer-time,
and I haven't had a look at it yet.--Come along, Arthur."
Away went the two, Tom longing to get his charge safe under cover, where
he might advise him on his deportment.
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