The Cock-House at Fellsgarth | Page 6

the hail- fellow-well-met he was with everybody, had he been all the
new boy's informant had recently described him.
Indeed, Fisher minor, when presently he gathered himself together
sufficiently to look round him, was surprised to see so few traces of the
"casual-ward" in his new house. True, most of the fellows might be
poor--which, of course, was highly reprehensible; and some of them
might not be connected with the nobility, which showed a great lack of
proper feeling on their part. But as a rule they held up their heads and
seemed to think very well of themselves and one another; while their
dress, if it was not in every case as fashionable as that of the temporary
owner of Fisher minor's half-crown, was at least passably well fitting.
Fisher minor, for all his doubts about the company he was in, could not
help half envying these fellows, as he saw with what glee and self-
satisfaction they entered into their own at Wakefield's. They were all so

glad to be back, to see again the picture of Cain and Abel on the wall,
to scramble for the corner seat in the ingle-bench, to hear the
well-known creak on the middle landing, to catch the imperturbable
tick of the dormitory clock, to see the top of Hawk's Pike looming out,
down the valley, clear and sharp in the falling light.
Fisher minor and Ashby, as they sat dismally and watched all the fun,
wondered if the time would ever come when they would feel as much
at home as all this. It was a stretch of imagination beyond their present
capacity.
To their alarm, Master Wally Wheatfield presently recognised them
from across the room, and came over patronisingly to where they sat.
"Hullo, new kids! thinking of your mas, and the rocking-horses, and
Nurse Jane, and all that? Never mind, have a good blub, it'll do you
good."
Considering how near, in strict secrecy, both the young gentlemen
addressed were to the condition indicated by the genial twin, this
exhortation was not exactly kind.
They tried to look as if they did not mind it, and Fisher minor naturally
did his best to appear knowing.
"I don't mind," said he, with a snigger; "they're all milksops at home.
I'd sooner be here."
"I wouldn't," put in the sturdy Ashby. "I think it's horrid not to see a
face you know."
"There you are; what did I say! Screaming for his mammy," gibed
Wally.
"And if I was," retorted Master Ashby, warming up, "she's a lot better
worth it than yours, so now!"
Master Wally naturally fired up at this. Such language was hardly

respectful from a new junior to an old.
"I'll pull your nose, new kid, if you cheek me."
"And I'll pull yours, if you cheek my mother."
"Booh, booh, poor baby! Who's cheeking your mother? I wouldn't
cheek her with a pair of tongs. Something better to do. I say, are both
you kids Classics?"
"Yes," they replied.
"I thought you must be Moderns, you're both so precious green. All
right, there'll be lamb's singing directly, then you'll have to sit up."
"What's lamb's singing?" said Ashby.
"Don't you know?" replied Wally, glad to have recovered the whip
hand. "It's this way. Every new kid has to sing in his house the
first-night. You'll have to."
"Oh," faltered Ashby, "I can't; I don't know anything."
"Can't get out of it; you must," said the twin, charmed to see the torture
he was inflicting. "So must you, Hair-parting."
Fisher minor was too knowing a hand to be caught napping. He had had
the tip about lamb's singing from his brother last term, and was
prepared. He joined in, therefore, against Ashby.
"What, didn't you know that, kid? You must be green. I knew it all
along."
"That's all right," said Wheatfield. "Now I'm going. I can't fool away all
my evening with you. By the way, mind you don't get taking up with
any Modern kids. It's not allowed, and you'll get it hot if you do. My
young brother," (each twin was particularly addicted to casting
reflections on his brother's age) "is a Modern. Don't you have anything
to do with him. And whatever you do, don't lend any of them money, or

there'll be a most awful row. That's why we always call up
subscriptions for the house clubs on first-night. It cleans the fellows out,
and then they can't lend any to the Moderns. You'll have to shell out
pretty soon, as soon as Lamb's singing is over. Ta, ta."
This last communication put Fisher minor in a terrible panic. He had
evidently committed a gross breach of etiquette in lending that Modern
boy (whose name he did not even know) a half-crown; and now, when
the