When I was alone for a few minutes with Bob, I spoke to him about the language I had heard made use of, but he laughed and cut me short, saying, "Look here, Charlie! Don't you be a muff. You'll hear plenty of that here, I dare say, but you'll soon get used to it. I don't swear much myself, as I think it's rather bad form, but don't you be such a fool as to cut up about it to anybody else." This quite satisfied me, and I determined not to refer to the subject any more.

"Oh, look!" cried Bob, as a little later on we were strolling towards the house. "Do you see that chap coming along?" and he nodded towards a lad of my own age, or perhaps a little more, who was approaching us. "We shall see a good deal of him, as he will be in our dormitory; Mrs. Percival has been talking to me about the arrangements, and we are going to have a room right away from the others with four beds in it. Of course, I said I wanted you to be with me, and she told me that would be all right. And then she mentioned this chap. He's a sort of relative of mine, and I believe he's an awfully decent little fellow, although I've only seen him once before. He's a duke, you know-the Duke of Surrey; my mother belongs to that family. My cousin, whom I was telling you about, Lord Henry Wiltmot, is this kid's uncle, and he has often told me that he is a very nice youngster, which means, I think, that he is all right for a lark; anyhow, we shall soon know. Well, as he is related to me, Mrs. Percival thought it would be a good idea to put him in our room. I don't quite know yet who the fourth is to be; Mrs. Percival said something about it, but I didn't exactly catch."

By this time the object of our conversation had neared us. He was a very good-looking boy, with chubby, fair cheeks, wavy chestnut hair, and a pair of fine dark-blue eyes, sparkling with merriment.