I longed to explain that I did, and that I had not come to Low Heath as ignorant as they supposed.

But it was impossible.

Mr Sharpe was already in his place, and "register" had begun.
Register, a ceremony with which I was destined to become painfully familiar in time, consisted in the calling over of the names of all the boys in the house, in order of place, by the minor prefect, who took his stand at the side of the master's desk for the purpose.

Instead of answering "Here" or "Adsum," in the usual way, the boy whose name was called stood in his place and held up his hand.
I had been so preoccupied with the lack of my six-button lavender gloves and the remarks of my two left-hand neighbours, that I had failed altogether to observe the boy on my right, who now quietly nudged me, and presented to my astonished gaze the serene and serious countenance of Dicky Brown.
"What have you got your gloves on for ?" inquired he, as if he had seen me daily since we parted.
"It's the form.

Haven't you got any?
I say, you'll get in a jolly row," said I, quite delighted to be able to lord it a little over an inferior.
"Why--who told you ?" "Tempest." "Tempest's a regular humbug.