When the getting-up bell sounds, you slink into your clothes amid the titters of your companions.

It is weeks before you hear the end of your nurse, your pocket money, your sister, and your sweetheart; and for you all the little pleasure of your first term at school has gone.
But what of Jerry?
He comes to you in the morning as if nothing had happened, with a "How are you, old fellow ?" You are so indignant you can't speak; all you are able to do is to glare in scorn and anger.
"Afraid you're not well," remarks the sneak; "change of scene, you know.
I hope you'll soon be better." Just as he is going you manage, though almost bursting with the effort, to stammer out--"What do you mean by telling tales of me to all the fellows ?" He looks perplexed, as if at a loss for your meaning.

"Tell tales of you ?" says he.

"I don't know what you mean, old chap." "Yes, you do.

How did they all know all about me this morning, if you hadn't told them ?" Then, as if your meaning suddenly dawned upon him, he breaks into a forced laugh, and exclaims-- "Oh, the chaff between Tom and Jack! I was awfully angry with Jack for beginning it--awfully angry.