Well, no, perhaps not, sir."
"Never mind; you're full young; it's largely a matter of experience. You have another chance here. Take up a firm attitude from the beginning, that's the secret of it."
Perhaps it was. He remembered that first tremendous ordeal of taking prep., a September sunset more than half a century ago; Big Hall full of lusty barbarians ready to pounce on him as their legitimate prey. His youth, fresh-complexioned, high-collared, and side-whiskered (odd fashions people followed in those days), at the mercy of five hundred unprincipled ruffians to whom the baiting of new masters was a fine art, an exciting sport, and something of a tradition. Decent little beggars individually, -but as a mob, just pitiless and implacable. The sudden hush as he took his place at the desk on the dais; the scowl he assumed to cover his inward nervousness: the tall clock ticking behind him and the smells of ink and varnish; the last blood-red rays slanting in slabs through the stained-glass windows. Someone dropped a desk lid - quickly, he must take even one by surprise; he must show that there was no nonsense about him. "You there in the fifth row - you with the red hair - what's your name?"