Burr Junior | Page 4

so that there was no temptation to go out, and, in spite of my low spirits, I was hungry enough to make me long for breakfast.
This was laid for us in the schoolroom, to which the boys flocked, as the big bell on the top of the building rang out again, and here I found that there were two long tables, as I supposed, till I was warned about being careful, when I found that they were not tables, but the double school-desks with the lids of the boys' lockers propped up horizontal.
"And if you don't mind, down they come, and your breakfast goes outside instead of in," said Mercer.
Milk and water and bread and butter, but they were good and plentiful, and though I was disappointed at first, and began thinking of the hot coffee at home, I made a better breakfast than I had expected; and in due course, after a walk round the big building, of which I could see nothing for the chilly fog, the bell rang again, and I had to hurry back into the schoolroom, taking a seat pointed out for me by Mercer, with the result related in the last chapter.
"Here, come along!" cried my new friend: "What a game! You are a good chap. I wish a new boy would come every day. Hooray! old Rebble's off. Bet sixpence he goes down to the river bottom-fishing. He never catches anything. Goes and sits in his spectacles, blinking at his float, and the roach come and give it a bob and are off again long before he strikes. Hi yi yi yi!" he shouted; "here we are again!" and, jumping on to the form and from there to the desk, he bent down, took lightly hold of the sides, threw up his heels, and stood on his head.
"Here, look at old Mercer!" cried a boy.
"Bravo, Senna T!" cried another.
A dictionary flew across the room, struck the amateur acrobat in the back, and fell on the floor, but not much more quickly than my new friend went over backwards, the blow having made him overbalance so that his feet came with a crash on the desk, the ink flew out of two little leaden wells, and the performer rolled off on to the form, and then to the floor, with a crash.
"Here!" he cried, springing up. "Who did that? Give me that book. Oh, I know!" he cried, snatching the little fat dictionary, and turning over the leaves quickly. "`Eely-hezer Burr.' Thanky, I wanted some paper. I'm all over ink. What a jolly mess!"
As he spoke, he tore out three or four leaves, and began to wipe the ink off his jacket.
"I say, Burr," cried the big boy who had read about Penelope, "Mercer's tearing up your dictionary."
"You mind your own business!" cried Mercer, tearing out some more leaves, and then throwing the book at the tale-teller just as the tall, thin boy, who bore the same name as I, came striding up with his face flushed and fists doubled, to plant three or four vigorous blows in Mercer's chest and back.
"How dare you tear my book?" he cried. "Here, you, fat Dicksee, bring it here."
"Thought you meant me to use it," cried Mercer, taking the blows good-humouredly enough. "Oh, I say, don't! you hurt!"
"Mischievous beggar!" said my senior taking the book and marching off.
"Go on! Ask your father to buy you a new one," cried Mercer derisively, as he applied a piece of blotting-paper to one leg of his trousers. "Hiss! Goose!"
"Do you wish me to come back and thrash you, Tom Mercer," said the tall boy, with a lordly manner.
"No, sir, thank-ye, sir; please don't, and I'll never do so no more, sir."
"Miserable beggar," said Burr major. "Here, Dicksee, come down the field and bowl for me. Bring five or six little uns to field."
"Yah! Tailor!" said Mercer, as his bully marched out.
"I'll tell him what you said," cried Dicksee.
"Hullo, Penny loaf! you there? Yes, you'd better tell him. Just you come to me for some physic, and you'll see how I'll serve you."
"Don't ketch me taking any of your stuff again," cried the big, fat, sneering-looking fellow. "I'll tell him, and you'll see."
"Go and tell him then," said Mercer contemptuously. "So he is a tailor, and his father's a tailor. Why, I saw his name on a brass plate in Cork Street."
"So's your father got his name on a brass plate," sneered Dicksee.
"Well, what of that? My father's a professional gentleman. Here, come on, Burr, and I'll show you round. Hooray! the sun's come through the mist. Where's your cap? All right. You'll have to get a square trencher by next Sunday. This way."
He led me out into the big playground, and turned.
"Ain't a bad house, is it? Some big lord