I who lay so near the seat of his emotions could tell what was going on in his breast.

He wondered if the pair of socks lying on the table with a hole in each heel, which appeared to be waiting their turn for mending, belonged to the son of the old lady he had met in the train.

He wondered if the footsteps in the passage belonged to the head master, and whether that awful being was being fetched to punish him for his crime of driving the cab.

He wondered who the boy was who put his head in at the door and drew it back again.

With what reverential eyes he followed that hero's retreating form, and how he hung on his whistling.
When would _he_, he wondered, be sufficiently hardy to whistle within those awful walls?
Then he wondered if he was the only new boy, and if so, whether every one would stare at him and laugh at his new coat.