"On this chair," said Heriot, suiting the action to the word. The boy would have leapt out of bed to do it himself. His shyness not only prevented him, but rendered him incapable of protest or acknowledgement; and the next moment he had something to be shy about. Mr. Heriot was holding up a broad and dirty belt, and without thinking he had cried, "What's this?"
Rutter could not answer for shame. And Heriot had time to think.
"I can sympathise," he said with a chuckle; "in the holidays I often wear one myself. But we mustn't betray each other, Rutter, or we shall never hear the last of it! I'll give you an order for a pair of braces in the morning."
"That's right." Heriot was still handling the belt as though he really longed to buckle it about himself. Suddenly he noticed the initials, "J. R."
"So it is, sir; but they used to call me Jan."
Heriot waited for a sigh, but the mouth that appealed to him was characteristically compressed. He sat a few moments on the foot of the bed. "Well, good-night, and a fair start to you, Jan! The matron will put out the gas at ten."
The lad mumbled something; the man looked back to nod, and saw him lying as he had found him, still clutching the list, only with his face as deep a colour as his arm.
"Have you come across any names you know?"
They were the sullen answers that had made a bad impression downstairs; but they were strangely uttered, and Rutter no longer lay still.
"He must have a name," said Heriot, coming back into the room.
"I'm sorry you're ashamed of your friend," said Heriot, laughing.
"I think that's very likely," put in Heriot, as the boy shut his lips once more. "What's in a name? The chances are that it's only a namesake after all."
He turned away without a sign of annoyance or of further interest in the matter. But another mumble from the bed intercepted him at the door.
"I'm afraid I don't. Wait a bit! His initials are either E. P. or P. E. He only came last term."
"He only would. But I thought he was going to Winchester!"
"That's the fellow; he got a scholarship and came here instead, at the last moment."
The new boy in the top dormitory made no remark when the matron put out the gas. He was lying on his back with his eyes wide open, and his lips compressed out of sight, just as Heriot had left him. It was almost a comfort to him to know the worst for certain; and now that he did know it, beyond all possibility of doubt, he was beginning to wonder whether it need necessarily be the worst after all. It might easily prove the best. He had always liked Master Evan; that was as much as this boy would admit even in his heart. The fact would have borne a warmer recognition. Best or worst, however, he knew it as well as though Evan Devereux had already come back with the rest of the school, and either cut him dead or grasped his hand. The one thing not to be suspected for an instant was that the lean oldish man, with the kind word and the abrupt manner, could possibly know the secret of a new boy's heart, and have entered already into his hopes and fears.