At half past five o’clock he went downstairs to the rooms of Mr. Randolph, who had charge of the Upper School.  Mr. Marcy, the Fifth Form dormitory master, and Mr. Wythe, the Fourth Form dormitory master, were also there.  They were veterans, comparatively, and it was to meet them and benefit by what they could tell him that Irving had been invited.  All three congratulated him on his good fortune in obtaining the Sixth Form dormitory.

“The older they are, the less trouble they are,” said Wythe.  “My first year I was over at the Lower School, looking after the little kids.  Half the time they’re sick and whimpering and have to be coddled, and the rest of the time they have to be spanked.”

“It hardly matters what age they are,” lamented Marcy, pessimistically.  “There’s bound to be a dormitory disorder once in so often.”

“What do you do in that case?” asked Irving.

“Jump hard on some one,” answered Wythe.  “Try to get the leader of it, but if you can’t get him, get somebody.  Report him,—­give him three sheets.”

“That means writing Latin lines for three hours on half-holidays?”

“Yes, and six marks off in Decorum for the week.  Of course they’ll come wheedling round you, wanting to be excused; you have to use your own discretion about that.”

“Do you have any Sixth Form classes?” asked Marcy.

“Yes,” Irving answered.  “In Geometry.”

“That means you’ll have to take the upper hand and hold it, right from the start.  If you have one crowd in dormitory to look after and another crowd in class, you can afford to relax a little now and then; but when it’s the same boys in both—­they watch for any sign of weakening.”

“There will be only two of them at your table, any way, Mr. Upton,” said Randolph.  He passed over a list.  “The others are all Fourth and Fifth Formers—­only Westby and Carroll from the Sixth!”

“Westby!” Wythe sighed.  “Maybe we were premature in congratulating you.  I’d forgotten about Westby.”

“What is the matter with him?” asked Irving.

“His cleverness, and his attractiveness.  He smiles and smiles and is a villain still.  He was in my dormitory year before last and kept it in a constant turmoil.  And yet if you have any sense of humor at all you can’t help being amused by him—­even sympathizing with him—­though it’s apt to be at your own expense.”

“He’s perfectly conscienceless,” declared Marcy.

“And yet there’s no real harm in him,” said Randolph.

“He seems to be something of a puzzle.”  Irving spoke uneasily.  “And he’s to be at my table—­I’m to have a table?”

“Oh, yes.  In fact, one or two of the Sixth Formers—­Scarborough, for instance—­have tables.  But we don’t let all the Sixth Formers eat together; we try to scatter them.  And Westby and Carroll have fallen to your lot.”

“If you happen to see either of them before supper, I should like to meet them,” Irving said.