I, Frank Fairlegh, age 15, am off to London, to complete my schooling as one of the select set of pupils studying under the Rev. Dr. Mildman.

"Yes, sir, master's in, sir," says the manservant who answers my timorous knock at the door. "So you're Mr. Fairlegh, sir, our new young gent, sir?" (here the ludicrous expression predominates); "hope you'll be comfortable, sir" (here he nearly bursts into a laugh); "show you into master's study, sir, directly" (here he becomes preternaturally grave again); and, opening the study door, he ushers me into the presence of the dreaded tutor.

"A pleasant journey, had you?" inquires Mrs. Mildman, later at the evening table, while offering a platter of fish.

"Not any, I am much obliged to you," I reply, thinking of the fish.

This produces a total silence. I am plainly proving myself, on my first day