Knight's Algebra), postponed another (with his friend and ally Moriarty,
of Dexter's, who wished to box with him in the gymnasium), and made his
way at a leisurely pace towards Donaldson's. He was feeling particularly
pleased with himself today, for several reasons. He had begun the day
well by scoring brilliantly off Mr Dexter across the matutinal rasher
and coffee. In morning school he had been put on to translate the one
passage which he happened to have prepared--the first ten lines, in
fact, of the hundred which formed the morning's lesson. And in the
final hour of afternoon school, which was devoted to French, he had
discovered and exploited with great success an entirely new and original
form of ragging. This, he felt, was the strenuous life; this was living
one's life as one's life should be lived.

He met Trevor at the gate. As they were going in, a carriage and pair
dashed past. Its cargo consisted of two people, the headmaster, looking
bored, and a small, dapper man, with a very red face, who looked
excited, and was talking volubly. Trevor and O'Hara raised their caps
as the chariot swept by, but the salute passed unnoticed. The Head
appeared to be wrapped in thought.

"What's the Old Man doing in a carriage, I wonder," said Trevor,
looking after them. "Who's that with him?"

"That," said O'Hara, "is Sir Eustace Briggs."

"Who's Sir Eustace Briggs?"

O'Hara explained, in a rich brogue, that Sir Eustace was Mayor of
Wrykyn, a keen politician, and a hater of the Irish nation, judging by
his letters and speeches.