The attitude of Philip St H. Harrison, of Merevale's House, towards his
fellow-man was outwardly one of genial and even sympathetic toleration.
Did his form-master intimate that his conduct was not _his_ idea
of what Young England's conduct should be, P. St H. Harrison agreed
cheerfully with every word he said, warmly approved his intention of
laying the matter before the Headmaster, and accepted his punishment
with the air of a waiter booking an order for a chump chop and fried
potatoes. But the next day there would be a squeaking desk in the
form-room, just to show the master that he had not been forgotten. Or,
again, did the captain of his side at football speak rudely to him on
the subject of kicking the ball through in the scrum, Harrison would
smile gently, and at the earliest opportunity tread heavily on the
captain's toe. In short, he was a youth who made a practice of taking
very good care of himself. Yet he had his failures. The affair of
Graham's mackintosh was one of them, and it affords an excellent
example of the truth of the proverb that a cobbler should stick to his
last. Harrison's _forte_ was diplomacy. When he forsook the arts
of the diplomatist for those of the brigand, he naturally went wrong.
And the manner of these things was thus.

Tony Graham was a prefect in Merevale's, and part of his duties was to
look after the dormitory of which Harrison was one of the ornaments. It
was a dormitory that required a good deal of keeping in order. Such
choice spirits as Braithwaite of the Upper Fourth, and Mace, who was
rapidly driving the master of the Lower Fifth into a premature grave,
needed a firm hand. Indeed, they generally needed not only a firm hand,
but a firm hand grasping a serviceable walking-stick. Add to these
Harrison himself, and others of a similar calibre, and it will be seen