Don't suppose, at my age, I was critical on such points; but when I take my boy to school, I do not think, with what I know now, I shall put him anywhere where the dormitory is like that of Stonebridge House.
"That," said Miss Henniker, pointing to one of the beds, "is your bed, and you wash at this washstand." "Oh," said I, again forgetting myself; "you are to be sure my brush and comb--" "Silence, Batchelor!" once more reiterated Miss Henniker.
From the dormitory I was conducted to the schoolroom, and from the schoolroom to the dining-room, and from the dining-room to the boot- room, and my duties were explained in each.
It was in the latter apartment that I first made the acquaintance of one of my fellow "troublesome or backwards." A biggish boy was adopting the novel expedient for getting on a tight boot of turning his back to the wall and kicking out at it like a horse when I and my conductress entered.
The latter very nearly came in for one of the kicks.
"Flanagan," said she, "that is not allowed.

I shall give you a bad mark for it." Flanagan went on kicking till the end of the sentence, and then subsided ruefully, and said, "The bothering thing won't come on or off, please, ma'am.

It won't come on with shoving." "If your boots are too small," replied the lady, solemnly, begging the question, "you must write home for new ones." "But the bothering things--" "Batchelor," said Miss Henniker, turning to me, "this is the boot-room, where you will have to put on and take off your boots whenever you go out or come in.

This boy is going out, and will take you into the playground with him," and away she went, leaving me in the hands of the volatile Flanagan.
"Who are you ?" he demanded.
It was a horribly dark place, this boot-room, and I could scarcely see who it was who was questioning me.

He seemed to be a big boy, a year or two older than myself, with a face which, as far as I could make it out, was not altogether unpleasant.