He was a rough-looking fellow, with a shock head of black hair, and a very dogged look.

Eric secretly thought that he wasn't a very nice-looking specimen of Roslyn school.

However, he sate by him, and glanced at the Cesar which the boy shoved about a quarter of an inch in his direction.
But Barker didn't seem inclined to make any further advances, and presently Eric asked in a whisper, "What's the lesson ?" The boy glanced at him, but took no further notice.
Eric repeated, "I say, what's the lesson ?" Instead of answering, Barker stared at him, and grunted, "What's your name ?" "Eric--I mean Williams." "Then why don't you say what you mean ?" Eric moved his foot impatiently at this ungracious reception; but as he seemed to have no redress, he pulled the Cesar nearer towards him.
"Drop that; 't isn't yours." Mr.Gordon heard a whisper, and glanced that way.

"Silence!" he said, and Barker pretended to be deep in his work, while Eric, resigning himself to his fate, looked about him.
He had plenty to occupy his attention in the faces round him.

He furtively examined Mr.Gordon, as he bent over his high desk, writing, but couldn't make our the physiognomy.