CHAPTER II
And as the exercise of Orr’s power was thus the last thing of which he was conscious on this, his first night at Rose Hill, so afterwards did he find himself reminded of it every hour of his life, from the moment when he was roused in the morning at half-past six—still, as it always seemed, in the middle of the night—to that when, long after they had gone up to bed, he was able once more to fall asleep. In the Playground of course it was only natural this should be so, but even up in form, under the very eyes of the masters, it was still the same. For suddenly he would feel himself sharply nipped in some tender part—the inside of the thigh seemed a favourite place—and when he turned angrily upon the boy who had thus attacked him, would be met by an apologetic:
‘I’m awfully sorry! I couldn't help it really! I had to pass it on from Orr!’
Now and again when thus attacked he would be unable to restrain a cry, or perhaps would drop his book, and then, before he could so much as think of making any reprisals, the master would tell him to go to the bottom of the class and for the rest of the time stand up upon the form. But it was worse at night, at least for him and such as slept in the Long Room. For then they were quite at Orr’s mercy, and without even such slight protection as in the day-time was lent them by their clothes; besides, his punishments seemed at such times to have about them something of a formal air they lacked by day, which made it as much out of the question to resist as if you had been going to be swished by Old Tom.
However for some little time after he had come he found himself still allowed to get into bed and remain there without
