CHAPTER TEN.
HOW I CHANGED HANDS AND QUITTED RANDLEBURY.
And now, dear reader, we must take a leap together of three years.

For remember, I am not setting myself to record the life of any one person, or the events which happened at any one place.

I am writing my own life--or those parts of it which are most memorable--and therefore it behoves me not to dwell unduly on times and scenes in which I was not personally interested.
I had a very close connection with the events that rendered Charlie's first term at school so exciting, but after that, for three years, I pursued the even tenor of my way, performing some twenty-six thousand two hundred and eighty revolutions, unmarked by any incident, either in my own life or that of my master worthy of notice.
By the end of those three years, however, things were greatly changed at Randlebury.

Charlie, not far from his sixteenth birthday, was now a tall, broad-shouldered fellow, lording it in the Upper Fifth, and the hero of the cricket field of which he himself had once been a cadet.

In face he was not greatly altered.