"The wealth of youth, we spent it well
And decently, as very few can.
And is it lost? I cannot tell:
And what is more I doubt if you can."
HILAIRE BELLOC.
Life seemed to Martin Leigh, as he gazed at the wooden walls of hiscubicle, very overwhelming: there were so many things to remember. Hehad lived through his first day as a boarder at a public school and atlength he had the great joy of knowing that for nine hours there wouldbe nothing to find out. He seemed to have been finding things out eversince seven o'clock that morning: finding out his form and his formmaster, his desk at school and his desk in the house, his place inchapel and his place at meals, his hours of work and his field forplay. He had moved in a world of mystery, a world of doors which hadto be opened and of locks which had to be picked. It had beenterrifying work, this probing of places.
All day Martin had been shown things by formidable people in ahustling, inadequate way: he had been far too awed by the majesty ofhis conductors to ask any questions and he realised now that he hadforgotten nearly all that he had been told. He knew that he was in theLower Fifth, Classical, and that his form master was a renowned terror:he knew also that he was supposed to play football with the other smallboys of his house in a muddy-looking field some distance away. But hisplace in chapel ... that had vanished entirely from his mind. Andto-morrow morning he would either have to pluck up his scanty courageand make a fool of himself by asking one of the formidable people, orelse trust to luck and probably make an even greater fool of himself bywandering disconsolate in the aisle. He was vague also as to thelocality of the Lower Fifth classroom: there was, indeed, one othermember of that form in the house, but he was a gigantic, moustachioedperson, a man of weight in the football world: to approach him would beimpossible. Martin came to the conclusion that not only would chapelmake him notorious for life, but that he would also get lost in schooland reach his classroom late: then he would come in blushing, amidstthe smiles of the superior. And the Terror would not rage and swearlike a gentleman: he would smile, as he had smiled that morning, andmake a little joke.
Life was undoubtedly overwhelming. And there were other no less cruelfacts to face. His collars were all wrong. All the other new boys, hehad noticed, wore Eton collars: these, apparently, should be re