Next morning there appeared as usual at his desk a short, thin, red-headed
boy of sixteen, whose plain, freckled face denoted good-humour and a
certain intelligence, but would never have drawn attention amongst the
livelier and comelier physiognomies grouped about him. This was Humplebee.
Hitherto he had been an insignificant member of the school, one of those
boys who excel neither at games nor at lessons, of whom nothing is
expected, and rarely, if ever, get into trouble, and who are liked in a
rather contemptuous way. Of a sudden he shone glorious; all tongues were
busy with him, all eyes regarded him, every one wished for the honour of
his friendship. Humplebee looked uncomfortable. He had the sniffy
beginnings of a cold, the result of yesterday's struggle in icy water, and
his usual diffident and monosyllabic inclination were intensified by the
position in which he found himself. Clappings on the shoulder from bigger
boys who had been wont to joke about his name made him flush nervously; to
be addressed as 'Humpy,' or 'Beetle,' or 'Buz,' even though in a new tone,
seemed to gratify him as little as before. It was plain that Humplebee
would much have liked to be left alone.
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