Like Pontifex, he seemed but little concerned, either with the cheers of his friends or the few howls of his mutinous juniors.

He was used to noises, and they made very little difference to him one way or another.

Cresswell, on the contrary, seemed decidedly pleased, when cheers and cries of "Well run!" greeted his appearance; and most of the other monitors--Cartwright, the quick-tempered, warm-hearted Templeton football captain; Freckleton, the studious "dark man;" Bull, the "knowing one," with his horse-shoe pin; Pledge, the smirking "spider;" of the Sixth, and others--seemed to set no little store by the reception the school was pleased to accord them.
At last all were in their places, the door was shut--a traditional precaution against magisterial invasion--and Pontifex lounged to his feet.
"Well, you fellows," said he, with a pleasant smile and in a pleasant voice, "here we are again at another Election.

We're always glad to see one another after the holidays--at least I am (cheers)--and I hope we've got a good year coming on.

They tell me I'm captain of Templeton this year.