TOM BROWN'S
going on, and tried to take in at once the long line of gray buildings, beginning with the chapel and ending with the School-house, the residence of the head-master, where the great flag was lazily waving from the highest round tower. And he began already to be proud of being a Rugby boy, as he passed the school gates, with the oriel window above, and saw the boys standing there, looking as if the town belonged to them, and nodding in a familiar manner to the coachman, as if any one of them would be quite equal to getting on the box and working the team down street as well as he.
One of the young heroes, however, ran out from the rest and scrambled up behind; where, having righted himself and nodded to the guard with "How do, Jem?" he turned short round to Tom and, after looking him over for a minute, began:
"I say, you fellow, is your name Brown?"
"Yes," said Tom, in considerable astonishment—glad, however, to have lighted on some one already who seemed to know him.
"Ah, I thought so; you know my old aunt, Miss East; she lives somewhere down your way in Berkshire. She wrote to me that you were coming to-day, and asked me to give you a lift."
Tom was somewhat inclined to resent the patronizing air of his new friend—a boy of just about his own height and age, but gifted with the most transcendent coolness and assurance, which Tom felt to be aggravating and hard to bear, but couldn't for the life of him help admiring and envying—especially when my young lord begins hectoring two or three long, loafing fellows, half-porter, half-stableman, with a strong touch of the blackguard, and in the end arranges with one of them, nicknamed Cooey, to carry Tom's luggage up to the School-house for sixpence.
"And heark 'ee, Cooey, it must be up in ten minutes, or no more jobs from me. Come along. Brown." And away swaggers the young potentate, with his hands in his pockets and Tom at his side.
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