He too is no longer a boy--less of a boy, in fact, than Tom, if one may judge from the thoughtfulness of his face, which is somewhat paler, too, than one could wish; but his figure, though slight, is well knit and active, and all his old timidity has disappeared, and is replaced by silent, quaint fun, with which his face twinkles all over, as he listens to the broken talk between the other two, in which he joins every now and then.
All three are watching the game eagerly, and joining in the cheering which follows every good hit.

It is pleasing to see the easy, friendly footing which the pupils are on with their master, perfectly respectful, yet with no reserve and nothing forced in their intercourse.

Tom has clearly abandoned the old theory of "natural enemies" in this case at any rate.
But it is time to listen to what they are saying, and see what we can gather out of it.
"I don't object to your theory," says the master, "and I allow you have made a fair case for yourself.

But now, in such books as Aristophanes, for instance, you've been reading a play this half with the Doctor, haven't you ?" "Yes, the Knights," answered Tom.
"Well, I'm sure you would have enjoyed the wonderful humour of it twice as much if you had taken more pains with your scholarship." "Well, sir, I don't believe any boy in the form enjoyed the sets-to between Cleon and the Sausage-seller more than I did--eh, Arthur ?" said Tom, giving him a stir with his foot.
"Yes, I must say he did," said Arthur.

"I think, sir, you've hit upon the wrong book there." "Not a bit of it," said the master.