He was as useless and ill at ease with cricket as with football, nor in
spite of all his efforts could he ever throw a ball or a stone. It soon
became plain, therefore, to everyone that Pontifex was a young muff, a
mollycoddle, not to be tortured, but still not to be rated highly. He
was not however, actively unpopular, for it was seen that he was quite
square _inter pares_, not at all vindictive, easily pleased, perfectly
free with whatever little money he had, no greater lover of his school
work than of the games, and generally more inclinable to moderate vice
than to immoderate virtue.
These qualities will prevent any boy from sinking very low in the opinion
of his schoolfellows; but Ernest thought he had fallen lower than he
probably had, and hated and despised himself for what he, as much as
anyone else, believed to be his cowardice. He did not like the boys whom
he thought like himself. His heroes were strong and vigorous, and the
less they inclined towards him the more he worshipped them. All this
made him very unhappy, for it never occurred to him that the instinct
which made him keep out of games for which he was ill adapted, was more
reasonable than the reason which would have driven him into them.
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