Those who wanted to see what the new boy was made of were disappointed, and those whose dignity wanted putting to-rights were still more disappointed.
But there was no helping it.

We trailed slowly indoors, Philpot vowing he would be quits with the young cub some day, and Hawkesbury, in his usual smiling way, suggesting that "the new boy didn't seem a very nice boy." "I know what _I_ should do," said Flanagan, "if I--" "A bad mark to Flanagan for not coming in quietly," said the voice of Miss Henniker; and at the sound the spirit went out from us, and we remembered we were once more in Stonebridge House.
"Preparation" was a dreadful time.

I knew perfectly well, though I could not see her, that Miss Henniker's eyes were upon me all the time.
I could feel them on the back of my head and the small of my back.

You never saw such an abject spectacle as we nine spiritless youths appeared bending over our books, hardly daring to turn over a leaf or dip a pen, for fear of hearing that hateful voice.

I could not help, however, turning my eyes to where the new boy sat, to see how he was faring.