This ordeal over, Mr. Grimshaw rose and bade me follow him.  A door opened, and I stood in the blaze of forty-two pairs of upturned eyes.  I was a cool hand for my age, but I lacked the boldness to face this battery without wincing.  In a sort of dazed way I stumbled after Mr. Grimshaw down a narrow aisle between two rows of desks, and shyly took the seat pointed out to me.

The faint buzz that had floated over the school-room at our entrance died away, and the interrupted lessons were resumed.  By degrees I recovered my coolness, and ventured to look around me.

The owners of the forty-two caps were seated at small green desks like the one assigned to me.  The desks were arranged in six rows, with spaces between just wide enough to prevent the boys’ whispering.  A blackboard set into the wall extended clear across the end of the room; on a raised platform near the door stood the master’s table; and directly in front of this was a recitation-bench capable of seating fifteen or twenty pupils.  A pair of globes, tattooed with dragons and winged horses, occupied a shelf between two windows, which were so high from the floor that nothing but a giraffe could have looked out of them.

Having possessed myself of these details, I scrutinized my new acquaintances with unconcealed curiosity, instinctively selecting my friends and picking out my enemies—­and in only two cases did I mistake my man.

A sallow boy with bright red hair, sitting in the fourth row, shook his fist at me furtively several times during the morning.  I had a presentiment I should have trouble with that boy some day—­a presentiment subsequently realized.

On my left was a chubby little fellow with a great many freckles (this was Pepper Whitcomb), who made some mysterious motions to me.  I didn’t understand them, but, as they were clearly of a pacific nature, I winked my eye at him.  This appeared to be satisfactory, for he then went on with his studies.  At recess he gave me the core of his apple, though there were several applicants for it.

Presently a boy in a loose olive-green jacket with two rows of brass buttons held up a folded paper behind his slate, intimating that it was intended for me.  The paper was passed skillfully from desk to desk until it reached my hands.  On opening the scrap, I found that it contained a small piece of molasses candy in an extremely humid state.  This was certainly kind.  I nodded my acknowledgments and hastily slipped the delicacy into my mouth.  In a second I felt my tongue grow red-hot with cayenne pepper.

My face must have assumed a comical expression, for the boy in the olive-green jacket gave an hysterical laugh, for which he was instantly punished by Mr. Grimshaw.  I swallowed the fiery candy, though it brought the water to my eyes, and managed to look so unconcerned that I was the only pupil in the form who escaped questioning as to the cause of Marden’s misdemeanor.  C. Marden was his name.