"I hear there's a crowd of new fellows coming, and I hate new fellows." "A fellow must be new some time or other," said Horace.

"Harker and I were new boys once, weren't we, Harker ?" Harker, who had shared the distinction of being tossed with Horace in the same blanket every night for the first week of his sojourn at Wilderham, had not forgotten the fact, and ejaculated,-- "Rather!" "The mischief is," continued Blandford, "they get such a shady lot of fellows there now.

The school's not half as respectable as it was-- there are far too many shopkeepers' sons and that sort of--" "Sort of animal, he'd like to say," laughed Horace.

"Bland can't get over being beaten for the French prize by Barber, the tailor's son." Blandford flushed up, and was going to answer when Reginald interposed.
"Well, and suppose he can't, it's no wonder.

I don't see why those fellows shouldn't have a school for themselves.