I was almost the only lad in the school whose parents were alive and at hand and in a good position, and my father's name stifled scandal.

Most of the others were orphans, being cheaply educated by distant relatives or guardians, or else the sons of poor widows who were easily bamboozled by Snuffy's fluent letters, and the religious leaflets which it was his custom to enclose.

(In several of these cases, he was "managing" the poor women's "affairs" for them.) One or two boys belonged to people living abroad.

Indeed, the worst bully in the school was a half-caste, whose smile, when he showed his gleaming teeth, boded worse than any other boy's frown.

He was a wonderful acrobat, and could do extraordinary tricks of all sorts.