When class was over, I was summoned by my fellow "Philosophers" to come out into the playing fields; I went in fear and trembling, lest I should encounter Crofter.

But he was nowhere to be seen.
My companions were evidently hand and glove with most of the juniors in the school, and I was favoured with a bewildering number of introductions, not always of the most gratifying kind.
"What have you got there, Trim?
A tame monkey ?" asked one gorgeous youth, whose cap bore the badge of Mr Selkirk's house.
"Not exactly," said Trimble; "haven't had time to tame him yet." "What's his name ?" "Sarah.

Allow me.

Muskett--Sarah Jones; Jones--Silly Muskett.

Now you know one another." "He's only fooling about my name," said I; "it's Thomas." "Oh, is it?
Delighted to see you, Sarah Thomas." And before I could put him right he was off, and I was led away by my rejoicing comrades.
"Look here, Trimble," said I, "it's time you knew my name by now." Trimble laughed, as did the others.