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“Yes, thanks. How was I to know you were a Fourth Former, though?”

There was a ripple of amusement at that and Watson flushed. “You’re supposed to know, kid. It’s your place to find out. Now, then, let’s try it again.”

“Try what again?”

“You know what I’m talking about! Now you say ‘Good morning, sir,’ and be quick about it.”

“Oh! That’s it? Why, good morning, sir. How do you do?”

“Cut the flip talk, now!” warned the older boy angrily. “You’re too smart for this place, anyway. You need taking down, you do, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you got what you need; I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

“Oh, let him alone, Guy,” protested another boy. “He’s new yet.”

“And he’s fresh, too,” answered Watson. “He can’t get off any of his funny pranks with me, though.”

“That’s just his breezy Western way,” laughed the boy who had spoken. “He’ll get over it.”

“You bet he will! And let me tell you something, kid, whatever your name is. You owe Doolittle for four ice-cream sodas and you’d better trot down and settle. First Formers aren’t allowed to have tick.”