The Jester of St. Timothys | Page 8

Lower School, looking after the little kids. Half
the time they're sick and whimpering and have to be coddled, and the
rest of the time they have to be spanked."
"It hardly matters what age they are," lamented Marcy, pessimistically.
"There's bound to be a dormitory disorder once in so often."
"What do you do in that case?" asked Irving.
"Jump hard on some one," answered Wythe. "Try to get the leader of it,
but if you can't get him, get somebody. Report him,--give him three
sheets."
"That means writing Latin lines for three hours on half-holidays?"
"Yes, and six marks off in Decorum for the week. Of course they'll
come wheedling round you, wanting to be excused; you have to use
your own discretion about that."
"Do you have any Sixth Form classes?" asked Marcy.
"Yes," Irving answered. "In Geometry."
"That means you'll have to take the upper hand and hold it, right from
the start. If you have one crowd in dormitory to look after and another
crowd in class, you can afford to relax a little now and then; but when
it's the same boys in both--they watch for any sign of weakening."
"There will be only two of them at your table, any way, Mr. Upton,"
said Randolph. He passed over a list. "The others are all Fourth and
Fifth Formers--only Westby and Carroll from the Sixth!"
"Westby!" Wythe sighed. "Maybe we were premature in congratulating
you. I'd forgotten about Westby."
"What is the matter with him?" asked Irving.
"His cleverness, and his attractiveness. He smiles and smiles and is a

villain still. He was in my dormitory year before last and kept it in a
constant turmoil. And yet if you have any sense of humor at all you
can't help being amused by him--even sympathizing with him--though
it's apt to be at your own expense."
"He's perfectly conscienceless," declared Marcy.
"And yet there's no real harm in him," said Randolph.
"He seems to be something of a puzzle." Irving spoke uneasily. "And
he's to be at my table--I'm to have a table?"
"Oh, yes. In fact, one or two of the Sixth Formers--Scarborough, for
instance--have tables. But we don't let all the Sixth Formers eat
together; we try to scatter them. And Westby and Carroll have fallen to
your lot."
"If you happen to see either of them before supper, I should like to
meet them," Irving said.
He felt that if he could make their acquaintance separately and without
witnesses, he could produce a better impression than if he waited and
confronted them before a whole table of strange faces.
But as it happened, that was just the way that he did meet Westby and
Carroll. When the supper bell sounded, the hallway of the Upper
School was crowded with boys, examining the schedule which had
been posted and which assigned them to their seats in the dining-room.
Irving, after waiting nervously until more than half the number had
entered the dining-room and deriving no help from any of the other
masters, went in and stood at the head of the third table, as he had been
instructed to do. Four or five boys were already standing there at their
places; they looked at him with curiosity and bowed to him politely.
The crowd as it entered thinned; Irving was beginning to hope that
Westby and Carroll had gone elsewhere,--and then, just as Mr.
Randolph was mounting to the head table on the dais, two boys slipped
in and stood at the seats at Irving's right. He recognized them as having
been two of the three who had laughed when he had proclaimed

himself a master. One was the slim, tall fellow who had called him
"new kid."
For a moment at Irving's table, after the boys had rattled into their seats,
there was silence. In front of Irving were a platter of cold tongue and a
dish of beans, and he began to put portions of each on the plates piled
before him. Then as he passed the first plate along the line he looked up
and said, "I think we'd better find out who everybody is. So each fellow,
as he gets his plate, will please sing out his name."
That was not such a bad beginning; there was a general grin which
broadened into a laugh when the first boy blushingly owned to the
name of Walnut. Then came Lacy and Norris, and then Westby.
"Oh," said Irving. "I think you're to be in my dormitory, aren't you?"
"I believe so." Westby looked at him quizzically, as if expecting him to
make some reference to their encounter; but Irving passed on to his
next neighbor, Carroll, and then began with the other side of the table.
He liked the appearance of the