“Yes, if that’s his name.”

“I was cheering up the little fellow a bit.  He’s made rather a bad exchange in leaving a happy home for Smith Institute.”

“That’s so.  This is a dreary hole, but there’s no need of crying about it.”

“You might if you were as young as Tommy, and had just come.”

“Shall you take him under your wing?”

“Yes, if he needs it.”

We now come to the few minutes preceding the return of Hector from his walk, as indicated in the last chapter.

Tommy Cooper was sitting in the school yard, with a disconsolate look, when Jim Smith, who was never happier than when he was bullying other boys, espied him.

“What’s the matter with you, young one?” he said, roughly, “Is your grandmother dead?”

“No,” answered Tommy, briefly.

“Come here and play.”

“I would rather not.”

“I am not going to have you sulking round here.  Do you hear me?”

“Are you one of the teachers?” asked Tommy, innocently.

“You’ll find out who I am,” answered Jim, roughly.  “Here, Palmer, do you want a little fun with this young one?”

Palmer and Bates were Jim Smith’s most devoted adherents.

“What are you going to do, Jim?” questioned Palmer.

“I’m going to stir him up a little,” said Jim, with a malicious smile.  “Go and get a blanket.”

“All right!” said Palmer.

“We’ll toss him in a blanket.  He won’t look so sulky after we get through with him.”

There were two or three other boys standing by, who heard these words.

“It’s a shame!” said one, in a low voice.  “See the poor little chap, how sad he looks!  I felt just as he does when I first came to school.”

“Jim ought not to do it,” said the second.  “It’s a mean thing to do.”

“Tell him so.”

“No, thank you.  He’d treat me the same way.”

The two speakers were among the smaller boys, neither being over fourteen, and though they sympathized with Tommy, their sympathy was not likely to do him any good.

Out came Palmer with the blanket.

“Are there any teachers about?” asked Jim.

“No.”

“That’s good.  We shan’t be interfered with.  Here, young one, come here.”

“What for?” asked Tommy, looking frightened.

“Come here, and you’ll find out.”

But Tommy had already guessed.  He had read a story of English school life, in which a boy had been tossed in a blanket, and he was not slow in comprehending the situation.

“Oh, don’t toss me in a blanket!” said the poor boy, clasping his hands.

“Sorry to disturb you, but it’s got to be done, young one,” said Jim.  “Here, jump in.  It’ll do you good.”

“Oh, don’t!” sobbed the poor boy.  “It’ll hurt me.”

“No, it won’t!  Don’t be a cry baby.  We’ll make a man of you.”

But Tommy was not persuaded.  He jumped up, and tried to make his escape.  But, of course, there was no chance for him.  Jim Smith overtook him in a couple of strides, and seizing him roughly by the collar, dragged him to the blanket, which by this time Palmer and one of the other boys, who had been impressed into the service reluctantly, were holding.