he would try upon very slight provocation, and didn’t choose to run the risk of a hard fight because Tom Brown had taken a fancy to say his prayers.  Some of the small boys of Number 4 communicated the new state of things to their chums, and in several other rooms the poor little fellows tried it on—­in one instance or so, where the prepostor heard of it and interfered very decidedly, with partial success; but in the rest, after a short struggle, the confessors were bullied or laughed down, and the old state of things went on for some time longer.  Before either Tom Brown or Arthur left the School-house, there was no room in which it had not become the regular custom.  I trust it is so still, and that the old heathen state of things has gone out for ever.

CHAPTER II—­THE NEW BOY.

     “And Heaven’s rich instincts in him grew
     As effortless as woodland nooks
     Send violets up and paint them blue.”—­Lowell.

I do not mean to recount all the little troubles and annoyances which thronged upon Tom at the beginning of this half-year, in his new character of bear-leader to a gentle little boy straight from home.  He seemed to himself to have become a new boy again, without any of the long-suffering and meekness indispensable for supporting that character with moderate success.  From morning till night he had the feeling of responsibility on his mind, and even if he left Arthur in their study or in the close for an hour, was never at ease till he had him in sight again.  He waited for him at the doors of the school after every lesson and every calling-over; watched that no tricks were played him, and none but the regulation questions asked; kept his eye on his plate at dinner and breakfast, to see that no unfair depredations were made upon his viands; in short, as East remarked, cackled after him like a hen with one chick.

Arthur took a long time thawing, too, which made it all the harder work; was sadly timid; scarcely ever spoke unless Tom spoke to him first; and, worst of all, would agree with him in everything—­the hardest thing in the world for a Brown to bear.  He got quite angry sometimes, as they sat together of a night in their study, at this provoking habit of agreement, and was on the point of breaking out a dozen times with a lecture upon the propriety of a fellow having a will of his own and speaking out, but managed to restrain himself by the thought that he might only frighten Arthur, and the remembrance of the lesson he had learnt from him on his first night at Number 4.  Then he would resolve to sit still and not say a word till Arthur began; but he was always beat at that game, and had presently to begin talking in despair, fearing lest Arthur might think he was vexed at something if he didn’t, and dog-tired of sitting tongue-tied.

It was hard work.  But Tom had taken it up, and meant to stick to it, and go through with it so as to satisfy himself; in which resolution he was much assisted by the chafing of East and his other old friends, who began to call him “dry-nurse,” and otherwise to break their small wit on him.  But when they took other ground, as they did every now and then, Tom was sorely puzzled.