The mention of his mother made Tom feel rather choky, and he would have liked to hug his father well, if it hadn’t been for his recent stipulation that kissing should now cease between them, so he only squeezed his father’s hand, and looked up bravely, and said, “I’ll try, father!”

At ten minutes to three Tom was in the coffee-room in his stockings, and there was his father nursing a bright fire; and a cup of coffee and a hard biscuit on the table.

Just as he was swallowing the last mouthful, Boots looks in, and says, “Tally-ho, sir!” And they hear the ring and rattle as it dashes up to the Peacock.

“Good-bye, father; my love at home!” A last shake of the hand.  Up goes Tom, the guard holding on with one hand, while he claps the horn to his mouth.  Toot, toot, toot!  Away goes the Tally-ho into the darkness.

Tom stands up, and looks back at his father’s figure as long as you can see it; and then comes to an anchor, and finishes his buttonings and other preparations for facing the cold three hours before dawn.  The guard muffles Tom’s feet up in straw, and puts an oat-sack over his knees, but it is not until after breakfast that his tongue is unloosed, and he rubs up his memory, and launches out into a graphic history of all the performances of the Rugby boys on the roads for the last twenty years.

“And so here’s Rugby, sir, at last, and you’ll be in plenty of time for dinner at the schoolhouse, as I tell’d you,” says the old guard.

Tom’s heart beat quick, and he began to feel proud of being a Rugby boy when he passed the school gates, and saw the boys standing there as if the town belonged to them.

One of the young heroes ran out from the rest, and scrambled up behind, where, having righted himself with, “How do, Jem?” to the guard, he turned round short to Tom, and began, “I say, you fellow, is your name Brown?”

“Yes,” said Tom, in considerable astonishment.

“Ah, I thought so; my old aunt, Miss East, lives somewhere down your way in Berkshire; she wrote that you were coming to-day and asked me to give you a lift!”

Tom was somewhat inclined to resent the patronising air of his new friend, a boy of just about his own age and height, but gifted with the most transcendent coolness and assurance, which Tom felt to be aggravating and hard to bear, but couldn’t help admiring and envying, especially when my young lord begins hectoring two or three long loafing fellows, and arranges with one of them to carry up Tom’s luggage.

“You see,” said East, as they strolled up to the school gates, “a good deal depends on how a fellow cuts up at first.  You see I’m doing the handsome thing by you, because my father knows yours; besides, I want to please the old lady—­she gave me half-a-sov. this half, and perhaps’ll double it next if I keep in her good books.”