The Jester of St. Timothys | Page 9

boys; they were quiet-looking and
respectful, and they had been responsive enough to his suggestion
about announcing their names. A happy inspiration told him that so
long as he could keep on taking the initiative with boys, he would have
no serious trouble. But it was one thing to recognize an effective mode
of conduct, and another to have the resourcefulness for carrying it out.
Irving was just thinking what next he should say, when Westby fell
upon him.
"Mr. Upton,"--Westby's voice was curiously distinct, in spite of its
quietness,--"wasn't it funny, our taking you for a new kid this
afternoon?"
Because the question was so obviously asked in a lull to embarrass him,
Irving was embarrassed. The interest of all the boys at the table had
been skillfully excited, and Westby leaned forward in front of Carroll,
with mischievous eyes and smile. Irving felt his color rising; he felt
both abashed and annoyed.

"Why, yes," he said hesitatingly. "I--I was a little startled."
"Did they take you for a new kid, Mr. Upton?" asked Blake, the Fifth
Former, who sat on Irving's left.
"For a moment, yes," admitted Irving, anxious not to pursue the
subject.
But Westby proceeded to explain with gusto, while the whole table
listened. "Lou Collingwood and Carrie here and I were in front of the
Study, and out came Mr. Upton. And Lou wanted to nail him for the
Pythians, so we all pranced up to him, and I said, 'Hello, new kid; what
name, please?'--just like that; didn't I, Mr. Upton?"
"Yes," said Irving grudgingly. He had an uneasy feeling that he was
being made an object of general entertainment; certainly the eyes of all
the boys at the table were fixed upon him smilingly.
"What happened then?" asked the blunt Blake.
"Why, then," continued Westby, "Mr. Upton told us that he wasn't a
new kid at all, but a new master. You may imagine we were
surprised--weren't we, Mr. Upton?"
"Oh, I could hardly tell--"
"The joke was certainly on us. As the French say, it was a contretemps.
To think that after all the years we'd been here, we couldn't tell a new
kid from a new master!"
Irving was mildly bewildered. He could not quite determine whether
Westby was telling the story more as a joke on himself or on him.
Anyway, in spite of the temporary embarrassment which they had
caused him, there seemed to be nothing offensive in the remarks. He
liked Westby's face; it was alert and good-humored, and the cajoling
quality in the boy's voice and the twinkle in his eyes were quite
attractive. In fact, his manner during supper was so agreeable that
Irving quite forgot it was this youth whom he had overheard mimicking

him: "I am not a new kid; I am a master."
After supper there were prayers in the Common Room; then all the
boys except the Sixth Formers went to the Study building to sit for an
hour under the eyes of a master, to read or write letters. On subsequent
evenings they would have to employ this period in studying, but as yet
no lessons had been assigned; the classroom work had not begun. The
Sixth Form were exempt from the necessity of attending Study, and had
the privilege of preparing their lessons in their own rooms. Irving found,
on going up to his dormitory, that the boys were visiting one another,
helping one another unpack, darting up and down the corridor and
carrying on loud conversations. He decided, as there were no lessons
for them to prepare, not to interfere; their sociability seemed harmless
enough.
So, leaving the door of his room open that he might hear and suppress
any incipient disorder, he began a letter to Lawrence. He thought at
first that he would confide to his brother the little troubles which were
annoying him. But when he set about it, they seemed really too petty to
transcribe; surely he was man enough to bear such worries without
appealing to a younger brother for advice.
There was a loud burst of laughter from a room in which several boys
had gathered. It was followed by the remark in Westby's pleasant,
persuasive voice,--
"Look out, fellows, or we'll have Kiddy Upton down on us."
"Kiddy Upton!" another voice exclaimed in delight, and there was more
laughter.
Kiddy Upton! So that was to be his name. Of course boys gave
nicknames to their teachers,--Irving remembered some appellations that
had prevailed even at college. But none of them seemed so slighting or
so jeering as this of Kiddy; and Irving flushed as he had done when he
had been taken for a "new kid." But now his sensitiveness was even
more hurt; it wounded him that Westby, that pleasant, humorous person,
should have