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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6980-h.zip b/6980-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1451551 --- /dev/null +++ b/6980-h.zip diff --git a/6980-h/6980-h.htm b/6980-h/6980-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d49a29e --- /dev/null +++ b/6980-h/6980-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8072 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Tales of St Austin's, by P. G. Wodehouse + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> + <pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of St. Austin's, by P. G. Wodehouse + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tales of St. Austin's + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6980] +First Posted: February 19, 2003 +Last Updated: November 11, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF ST. AUSTIN'S *** + + + + +Etext produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + TALES OF ST AUSTIN'S + </h1> + <h2> + By P. G. Wodehouse + </h2> + <h3> + 1903 — + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + Most of these stories originally appeared in <i>The Captain</i>. I am + indebted to the Editor of that magazine for allowing me to republish. The + rest are from the <i>Public School Magazine</i>. The story entitled 'A + Shocking Affair' appears in print for the first time. 'This was one of our + failures.' + </p> + <p> + <i>P. G. Wodehouse</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DEDICATION + </h2> + <h3> + AD MATREM + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + CONTENTS + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> DEDICATION </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> 1 — HOW PILLINGSHOT SCORED </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> 2 — THE ODD TRICK </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> 3 — L'AFFAIRE UNCLE JOHN </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_PART"> PART OF LETTER FROM RICHARD VENABLES </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> 4 — HARRISON'S SLIGHT ERROR </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> 5 — BRADSHAW'S LITTLE STORY </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> 6 — A SHOCKING AFFAIR </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> 7 — THE BABE AND THE DRAGON </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> 8 — THE MANOEUVRES OF CHARTERIS </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> 9 — HOW PAYNE BUCKED UP </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> 10 — AUTHOR! </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> 11 — 'THE TABBY TERROR' </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> 12 — THE PRIZE POEM </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> 13 — WORK </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> 14 — NOTES </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> 15 — NOW, TALKING ABOUT CRICKET </a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> 16 — THE TOM BROWN QUESTION </a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_TOC" id="link2H_TOC"> </a> + </p> + + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 1 — HOW PILLINGSHOT SCORED + </h2> + <p> + Pillingshot was annoyed. He was disgusted, mortified; no other word for + it. He had no objection, of course, to Mr Mellish saying that his work + during the term, and especially his Livy, had been disgraceful. A master + has the right to say that sort of thing if he likes. It is one of the + perquisites of the position. But when he went on to observe, without a + touch of shame, that there would be an examination in the Livy as far as + they had gone in it on the following Saturday, Pillingshot felt that he + exceeded. It was not playing the game. There were the examinations at the + end of term. Those were fair enough. You knew exactly when they were + coming, and could make your arrangements accordingly. But to spring an + examination on you in the middle of the term out of a blue sky, as it + were, was underhand and unsportsmanlike, and would not do at all. + Pillingshot wished that he could put his foot down. He would have liked to + have stalked up to Mr Mellish's desk, fixed him with a blazing eye, and + remarked, 'Sir, withdraw that remark. Cancel that statement instantly, or—!' + or words to that effect. + </p> + <p> + What he did say was: 'Oo, si-i-r!!' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' said Mr Mellish, not troubling to conceal his triumph at + Pillingshot's reception of the news, 'there will be a Livy examination + next Saturday. And—' (he almost intoned this last observation)—'anybody + who does not get fifty per cent, Pillingshot, fifty per cent, will be + severely punished. Very severely punished, Pillingshot.' + </p> + <p> + After which the lesson had proceeded on its course. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, it is rather low, isn't it?' said Pillingshot's friend, Parker, as + Pillingshot came to the end of a stirring excursus on the rights of the + citizen, with special reference to mid-term Livy examinations. 'That's the + worst of Mellish. He always has you somehow.' + </p> + <p> + 'But what am I to <i>do</i>?' raved Pillingshot. + </p> + <p> + 'I should advise you to swot it up before Saturday,' said Parker. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, don't be an ass,' said Pillingshot, irritably. + </p> + <p> + What was the good of friends if they could only make idiotic suggestions + like that? + </p> + <p> + He retired, brooding, to his house. + </p> + <p> + The day was Wednesday. There were only two more days, therefore, in which + to prepare a quarter of a book of Livy. It couldn't be done. The thing was + not possible. + </p> + <p> + In the house he met Smythe. + </p> + <p> + 'What are you going to do about it?' he inquired. Smythe was top of the + form, and if he didn't know how to grapple with a crisis of this sort, who + <i>could</i> know? + </p> + <p> + 'If you'll kindly explain,' said Smythe, 'what the dickens you are talking + about, I might be able to tell you.' + </p> + <p> + Pillingshot explained, with unwonted politeness, that 'it' meant the Livy + examination. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh,' said Smythe, airily, 'that! I'm just going to skim through it in + case I've forgotten any of it. Then I shall read up the notes carefully. + And then, if I have time, I shall have a look at the history of the + period. I should advise you to do that, too.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, don't be a goat,' said Pillingshot. + </p> + <p> + And he retired, brooding, as before. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon he spent industriously, copying out the fourth book of <i>The + Aeneid</i>. At the beginning of the week he had had a slight disagreement + with M. Gerard, the French master. + </p> + <p> + Pillingshot's views on behaviour and deportment during French lessons did + not coincide with those of M. Gerard. Pillingshot's idea of a French + lesson was something between a pantomime rally and a scrum at football. To + him there was something wonderfully entertaining in the process of + 'barging' the end man off the edge of the form into space, and upsetting + his books over him. M. Gerard, however, had a very undeveloped sense of + humour. He warned the humorist twice, and on the thing happening a third + time, suggested that he should go into extra lesson on the ensuing + Wednesday. + </p> + <p> + So Pillingshot went, and copied out Virgil. + </p> + <p> + He emerged from the room of detention at a quarter past four. As he came + out into the grounds he espied in the middle distance somebody being + carried on a stretcher in the direction of the School House. At the same + moment Parker loomed in sight, walking swiftly towards the School shop, + his mobile features shining with the rapt expression of one who sees much + ginger-beer in the near future. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo, Parker,' said Pillingshot, 'who's the corpse?' + </p> + <p> + 'What, haven't you heard?' said Parker. 'Oh, no, of course, you were in + extra. It's young Brown. He's stunned or something.' + </p> + <p> + 'How did it happen?' + </p> + <p> + 'That rotter, Babington, in Dacre's. Simply slamming about, you know, + getting his eye in before going in, and Brown walked slap into one of his + drives. Got him on the side of the head.' + </p> + <p> + 'Much hurt?' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, no, I don't think so. Keep him out of school for about a week.' + </p> + <p> + 'Lucky beast. Wish somebody would come and hit me on the head. Come and + hit me on the head, Parker.' + </p> + <p> + 'Come and have an ice,' said Parker. + </p> + <p> + 'Right-ho,' said Pillingshot. It was one of his peculiarities, that + whatever the hour or the state of the weather, he was always equal to + consuming an ice. This was probably due to genius. He had an infinite + capacity for taking pains. Scarcely was he outside the promised ice when + another misfortune came upon him. Scott, of the First Eleven, entered the + shop. Pillingshot liked Scott, but he was not blind to certain flaws in + the latter's character. For one thing, he was too energetic. For another, + he could not keep his energy to himself. He was always making Pillingshot + do things. And Pillingshot's notion of the ideal life was complete <i>dolce + far niente</i>. + </p> + <p> + 'Ginger-beer, please,' said Scott, with parched lips. He had been bowling + at the nets, and the day was hot. 'Hullo! Pillingshot, you young slacker, + why aren't you changed? Been bunking half-holiday games? You'd better + reform, young man.' + </p> + <p> + 'I've been in extra,' said Pillingshot, with dignity. + </p> + <p> + 'How many times does that make this term? You're going for the record, + aren't you? Jolly sporting of you. Bit slow in there, wasn't it? 'Nother + ginger-beer, please.' + </p> + <p> + 'Just a bit,' said Pillingshot. + </p> + <p> + 'I thought so. And now you're dying for some excitement. Of course you + are. Well, cut over to the House and change, and then come back and field + at the nets. The man Yorke is going to bowl me some of his celebrated slow + tosh, and I'm going to show him exactly how Jessop does it when he's in + form.' + </p> + <p> + Scott was the biggest hitter in the School. Mr Yorke was one of the + masters. He bowled slow leg-breaks, mostly half-volleys and long hops. + Pillingshot had a sort of instinctive idea that fielding out in the deep + with Mr Yorke bowling and Scott batting would not contribute largely to + the gaiety of his afternoon. Fielding deep at the nets meant that you + stood in the middle of the football field, where there was no telling what + a ball would do if it came at you along the ground. If you were lucky you + escaped without injury. Generally, however, the ball bumped and deprived + you of wind or teeth, according to the height to which it rose. He began + politely, but firmly, to excuse himself. + </p> + <p> + 'Don't talk rot,' said Scott, complainingly, 'you must have some exercise + or you'll go getting fat. Think what a blow it would be to your family, + Pillingshot, if you lost your figure. Buck up. If you're back here in a + quarter of an hour you shall have another ice. A large ice, Pillingshot, + price sixpence. Think of it.' + </p> + <p> + The word ice, as has been remarked before, touched chords in Pillingshot's + nature to which he never turned a deaf ear. Within the prescribed quarter + of an hour he was back again, changed. + </p> + <p> + 'Here's the ice,' said Scott, 'I've been keeping it warm for you. Shovel + it down. I want to be starting for the nets. Quicker, man, quicker! Don't + roll it round your tongue as if it was port. Go for it. Finished? That's + right. Come on.' + </p> + <p> + Pillingshot had not finished, but Scott so evidently believed that he had, + that it would have been unkind to have mentioned the fact. He followed the + smiter to the nets. + </p> + <p> + If Pillingshot had passed the earlier part of the afternoon in a sedentary + fashion, he made up for it now. Scott was in rare form, and Pillingshot + noticed with no small interest that, while he invariably hit Mr Yorke's + deliveries a quarter of a mile or so, he never hit two balls in succession + in the same direction. As soon as the panting fieldsman had sprinted to + one side of the football ground and returned the ball, there was a + beautiful, musical <i>plonk</i>, and the ball soared to the very opposite + quarter of the field. It was a fine exhibition of hitting, but Pillingshot + felt that he would have enjoyed it more if he could have watched it from a + deck-chair. + </p> + <p> + 'You're coming on as a deep field, young Pillingshot,' said Scott, as he + took off his pads. 'You've got a knack of stopping them with your stomach, + which the best first-class fields never have. You ought to give lessons at + it. Now we'll go and have some tea.' + </p> + <p> + If Pillingshot had had a more intimate acquaintance with the classics, he + would have observed at this point, '<i>Timeo Danaos</i>', and made a last + dash for liberty in the direction of the shop. But he was deceived by the + specious nature of Scott's remark. Visions rose before his eyes of sitting + back in one of Scott's armchairs, watching a fag toasting muffins, which + he would eventually dispatch with languid enjoyment. So he followed Scott + to his study. The classical parallel to his situation is the well-known + case of the oysters. They, too, were eager for the treat. + </p> + <p> + They had reached the study, and Pillingshot was about to fling himself, + with a sigh of relief, into the most comfortable chair, when Scott + unmasked his batteries. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, by the way,' he said, with a coolness which to Pillingshot appeared + simply brazen, 'I'm afraid my fag won't be here today. The young crock's + gone and got mumps, or the plague, or something. So would you mind just + lighting that stove? It'll be rather warm, but that won't matter. There + are some muffins in the cupboard. You might weigh in with them. You'll + find the toasting-fork on the wall somewhere. It's hanging up. Got it? + Good man. Fire away.' + </p> + <p> + And Scott collected five cushions, two chairs, and a tin of mixed + biscuits, and made himself comfortable. Pillingshot, with feelings too + deep for words (in the then limited state of his vocabulary), did as he + was requested. There was something remarkable about the way Scott could + always get people to do things for him. He seemed to take everything for + granted. If he had had occasion to hire an assassin to make away with the + German Emperor, he would have said, 'Oh, I say, you might run over to + Germany and kill the Kaiser, will you, there's a good chap? Don't be + long.' And he would have taken a seat and waited, without the least doubt + in his mind that the thing would be carried through as desired. + </p> + <p> + Pillingshot had just finished toasting the muffins, when the door opened, + and Venables, of Merevale's, came in. + </p> + <p> + 'I thought I heard you say something about tea this afternoon, Scott,' + said Venables. 'I just looked in on the chance. Good Heavens, man! Fancy + muffins at this time of year! Do you happen to know what the thermometer + is in the shade?' + </p> + <p> + 'Take a seat,' said Scott. 'I attribute my entire success in life to the + fact that I never find it too hot to eat muffins. Do you know Pillingshot? + One of the hottest fieldsmen in the School. At least, he was just now. + He's probably cooled off since then. Venables—Pillingshot, and <i>vice + versa</i>. Buck up with the tea, Pillingshot. What, ready? Good man. Now + we might almost begin.' + </p> + <p> + 'Beastly thing that accident of young Brown's, wasn't it?' said Scott. + 'Chaps oughtn't to go slamming about like that with the field full of + fellows. I suppose he won't be right by next Saturday?' + </p> + <p> + 'Not a chance. Why? Oh, yes, I forgot. He was to have scored for the team + at Windybury, wasn't he?' + </p> + <p> + 'Who are you going to get now?' + </p> + <p> + Venables was captain of the St Austin's team. The match next Saturday was + at Windybury, on the latter's ground. + </p> + <p> + 'I haven't settled,' said Venables. 'But it's easy to get somebody. + Scoring isn't one of those things which only one chap in a hundred + understands.' + </p> + <p> + Then Pillingshot had an idea—a great, luminous idea. + </p> + <p> + 'May I score?' he asked, and waited trembling with apprehension lest the + request be refused. + </p> + <p> + 'All right,' said Venables, 'I don't see any reason why you shouldn't. We + have to catch the 8.14 at the station. Don't you go missing it or + anything.' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather <i>not</i>,' said Pillingshot. 'Not much.' + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + On Saturday morning, at exactly 9.15, Mr Mellish distributed the Livy + papers. When he arrived at Pillingshot's seat and found it empty, an + expression passed over his face like unto that of the baffled villain in + transpontine melodrama. + </p> + <p> + 'Where is Pillingshot?' he demanded tragically. 'Where is he?' + </p> + <p> + 'He's gone with the team to Windybury, sir,' said Parker, struggling to + conceal a large size in grins. 'He's going to score.' + </p> + <p> + 'No,' said Mr Mellish sadly to himself, 'he <i>has</i> scored.' + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 2 — THE ODD TRICK + </h2> + <p> + 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 <i>his</i> 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 <i>forte</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 that Graham's post + was no sinecure. It was Harrison's custom to throw off his mask at night + with his other garments, and appear in his true character of an abandoned + villain, willing to stick at nothing as long as he could do it strictly + incog. In this capacity he had come into constant contact with Graham. + Even in the dark it is occasionally possible for a prefect to tell where a + noise comes from. And if the said prefect has been harassed six days in + the week by a noise, and locates it suddenly on the seventh, it is wont to + be bad for the producer and patentee of same. + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that Harrison, enjoying himself one night, after the + manner of his kind, was suddenly dropped upon with violence. He had + constructed an ingenious machine, consisting of a biscuit tin, some + pebbles, and some string. He put the pebbles in the tin, tied the string + to it, and placed it under a chest of drawers. Then he took the other end + of the string to bed with him, and settled down to make a night of it. At + first all went well. Repeated inquiries from Tony failed to produce the + author of the disturbance, and when finally the questions ceased, and the + prefect appeared to have given the matter up as a bad job, P. St H. + Harrison began to feel that under certain circumstances life was worth + living. It was while he was in this happy frame of mind that the string, + with which he had just produced a triumphant rattle from beneath the chest + of drawers, was seized, and the next instant its owner was enjoying the + warmest minute of a chequered career. Tony, like Brer Rabbit, had laid low + until he was certain of the direction from which the sound proceeded. He + had then slipped out of bed, crawled across the floor in a snake-like + manner which would have done credit to a Red Indian, found the tin, and + traced the string to its owner. Harrison emerged from the encounter + feeling sore and unfit for any further recreation. This deed of the night + left its impression on Harrison. The account had to be squared somehow, + and in a few days his chance came. Merevale's were playing a 'friendly' + with the School House, and in default of anybody better, Harrison had been + pressed into service as umpire. This in itself had annoyed him. Cricket + was not in his line—he was not one of your flannelled fools—and + of all things in connection with the game he loathed umpiring most. + </p> + <p> + When, however, Tony came on to bowl at his end, <i>vice</i> Charteris, who + had been hit for three fours in an over by Scott, the School slogger, he + recognized that even umpiring had its advantages, and resolved to make the + most of the situation. + </p> + <p> + Scott had the bowling, and he lashed out at Tony's first ball in his usual + reckless style. There was an audible click, and what the sporting papers + call confident appeals came simultaneously from Welch, Merevale's captain, + who was keeping wicket, and Tony himself. Even Scott seemed to know that + his time had come. He moved a step or two away from the wicket, but + stopped before going farther to look at the umpire, on the off-chance of a + miracle happening to turn his decision in the batsman's favour. + </p> + <p> + The miracle happened. + </p> + <p> + 'Not out,' said Harrison. + </p> + <p> + 'Awfully curious,' he added genially to Tony, 'how like a bat those bits + of grass sound! You have to be jolly smart to know where a noise comes + from, don't you!' + </p> + <p> + Tony grunted disgustedly, and walked back again to the beginning of his + run. + </p> + <p> + If ever, in the whole history of cricket, a man was out leg-before-wicket, + Scott was so out to Tony's second ball. It was hardly worth appealing for + such a certainty. Still, the formality had to be gone through. + </p> + <p> + 'How was <i>that</i>?' inquired Tony. + </p> + <p> + 'Not out. It's an awful pity, don't you think, that they don't bring in + that new leg-before rule?' + </p> + <p> + 'Seems to me,' said Tony bitterly, 'the old rule holds pretty good when a + man's leg's bang in front.' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather. But you see the ball didn't pitch straight, and the rule says—' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, all right,' said Tony. + </p> + <p> + The next ball Scott hit for four, and the next after that for a couple. + The fifth was a yorker, and just grazed the leg stump. The sixth was a + beauty. You could see it was going to beat the batsman from the moment it + left Tony's hand. Harrison saw it perfectly. + </p> + <p> + 'No ball,' he shouted. And just as he spoke Scott's off-stump ricocheted + towards the wicket-keeper. + </p> + <p> + 'Heavens, man,' said Tony, fairly roused out of his cricket manners, a + very unusual thing for him. 'I'll swear my foot never went over the + crease. Look, there's the mark.' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather not. Only, you see, it seemed to me you chucked that time. Of + course, I know you didn't mean to, and all that sort of thing, but still, + the rules—' + </p> + <p> + Tony would probably have liked to have said something very forcible about + the rules at this point, but it occurred to him that after all Harrison + was only within his rights, and that it was bad form to dispute the + umpire's decision. Harrison walked off towards square-leg with a holy joy. + </p> + <p> + But he was too much of an artist to overdo the thing. Tony's next over + passed off without interference. Possibly, however, this was because it + was a very bad one. After the third over he asked Welch if he could get + somebody else to umpire, as he had work to do. Welch heaved a sigh of + relief, and agreed readily. + </p> + <p> + 'Conscientious sort of chap that umpire of yours,' said Scott to Tony, + after the match. Scott had made a hundred and four, and was feeling + pleased. 'Considering he's in your House, he's awfully fair.' + </p> + <p> + 'You mean that we generally swindle, I suppose?' + </p> + <p> + 'Of course not, you rotter. You know what I mean. But, I say, that catch + Welch and you appealed for must have been a near thing. I could have sworn + I hit it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Of course you did. It was clean out. So was the lbw. I say, did you think + that ball that bowled you was a chuck? That one in my first over, you + know.' + </p> + <p> + 'Chuck! My dear Tony, you don't mean to say that man pulled you up for + chucking? I thought your foot must have gone over the crease.' + </p> + <p> + 'I believe the chap's mad,' said Tony. + </p> + <p> + 'Perhaps he's taking it out of you this way for treading on his corns + somehow. Have you been milling with this gentle youth lately?' + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove,' said Tony, 'you're right. I gave him beans only the other night + for ragging in the dormitory.' + </p> + <p> + Scott laughed. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, he seems to have been getting a bit of his own back today. Lucky + the game was only a friendly. Why will you let your angry passions rise, + Tony? You've wrecked your analysis by it, though it's improved my average + considerably. I don't know if that's any solid satisfaction to you.' + </p> + <p> + 'It isn't.' + </p> + <p> + 'You don't say so! Well, so long. If I were you, I should keep an eye on + that conscientious umpire.' + </p> + <p> + 'I will,' said Tony. 'Good-night.' + </p> + <p> + The process of keeping an eye on Harrison brought no results. When he + wished to behave himself well, he could. On such occasions Sandford and + Merton were literally not in it with him, and the hero of a Sunday-school + story would simply have refused to compete. But Nemesis, as the poets tell + us, though no sprinter, manages, like the celebrated Maisie, to get right + there in time. Give her time, and she will arrive. She arrived in the case + of Harrison. One morning, about a fortnight after the House-match + incident, Harrison awoke with a new sensation. At first he could not tell + what exactly this sensation was, and being too sleepy to discuss nice + points of internal emotion with himself, was just turning over with the + intention of going to sleep again, when the truth flashed upon him. The + sensation he felt was loneliness, and the reason he felt lonely was + because he was the only occupant of the dormitory. To right and left and + all around were empty beds. + </p> + <p> + As he mused drowsily on these portents, the distant sound of a bell came + to his ears and completed the cure. It was the bell for chapel. He dragged + his watch from under his pillow, and looked at it with consternation. Four + minutes to seven. And chapel was at seven. Now Harrison had been late for + chapel before. It was not the thought of missing the service that worried + him. What really was serious was that he had been late so many times + before that Merevale had hinted at serious steps to be taken if he were + late again, or, at any rate, until a considerable interval of punctuality + had elapsed. + </p> + <p> + That threat had been uttered only yesterday, and here he was in all + probability late once more. + </p> + <p> + There was no time to dress. He sprang out of bed, passed a sponge over his + face as a concession to the decencies, and looked round for something to + cover his night-shirt, which, however suitable for dormitory use, was, he + felt instinctively, scarcely the garment to wear in public. + </p> + <p> + Fate seemed to fight for him. On one of the pegs in the wall hung a + mackintosh, a large, blessed mackintosh. He was inside it in a moment. + </p> + <p> + Four minutes later he rushed into his place in chapel. + </p> + <p> + The short service gave him some time for recovering himself. He left the + building feeling a new man. His costume, though quaint, would not call for + comment. Chapel at St Austin's was never a full-dress ceremony. + Mackintoshes covering night-shirts were the rule rather than the + exception. + </p> + <p> + But between his costume and that of the rest there was this subtle + distinction. They wore their own mackintoshes. He wore somebody else's. + </p> + <p> + The bulk of the School had split up into sections, each section making for + its own House, and Merevale's was already in sight, when Harrison felt + himself grasped from behind. He turned, to see Graham. + </p> + <p> + 'Might I ask,' enquired Tony with great politeness, 'who said you might + wear my mackintosh?' + </p> + <p> + Harrison gasped. + </p> + <p> + 'I suppose you didn't know it was mine?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, no, rather not. I didn't know.' + </p> + <p> + 'And if you had known it was mine, you wouldn't have taken it, I suppose?' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh no, of course not,' said Harrison. Graham seemed to be taking an + unexpectedly sensible view of the situation. + </p> + <p> + 'Well,' said Tony, 'now that you know that it is mine, suppose you give it + up.' + </p> + <p> + 'Give it up!' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes; buck up. It looks like rain, and I mustn't catch cold.' + </p> + <p> + 'But, Graham, I've only got on—' + </p> + <p> + 'Spare us these delicate details. Mack up, please, I want it.' + </p> + <p> + Finally, Harrison appearing to be difficult in the matter, Tony took the + garment off for him, and went on his way. + </p> + <p> + Harrison watched him go with mixed feelings. Righteous indignation + struggled with the gravest apprehension regarding his own future. If + Merevale should see him! Horrible thought. He ran. He had just reached the + House, and was congratulating himself on having escaped, when the worst + happened. At the private entrance stood Merevale, and with him the + Headmaster himself. They both eyed him with considerable interest as he + shot in at the boys' entrance. + </p> + <p> + 'Harrison,' said Merevale after breakfast. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir?' + </p> + <p> + 'The Headmaster wishes to see you—again.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir,' said Harrison. + </p> + <p> + There was a curious lack of enthusiasm in his voice. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 3 — L'AFFAIRE UNCLE JOHN + </h2> + <p> + (<i>A Story in Letters</i>) + </p> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p> + From Richard Venables, of St Austin's School, to his brother Archibald + Venables, of King's College, Cambridge: + </p> + <p> + Dear Archie—I take up my pen to write to you, not as one hoping for + an answer, but rather in order that (you notice the Thucydidean + construction) I may tell you of an event the most important of those that + have gone before. You may or may not have heard far-off echoes of my + adventure with Uncle John, who has just come back from the diamond-mines—and + looks it. It happened thusly: + </p> + <p> + Last Wednesday evening I was going through the cricket field to meet Uncle + John, at the station, as per esteemed favour from the governor, telling me + to. Just as I got on the scene, to my horror, amazement, and disgust, I + saw a middle-aged bounder, in loud checks, who, from his looks, might have + been anything from a retired pawnbroker to a second-hand butler, sacked + from his last place for stealing the sherry, standing in the middle of the + field, on the very wicket the Rugborough match is to be played on next + Saturday (tomorrow), and digging—<i>digging</i>—I'll trouble + you. Excavating great chunks of our best turf with a walking-stick. I was + so unnerved, I nearly fainted. It's bad enough being captain of a School + team under any circs., as far as putting you off your game goes, but when + you see the wicket you've been rolling by day, and dreaming about by + night, being mangled by an utter stranger—well! They say a cow is + slightly irritated when her calf is taken away from her, but I don't + suppose the most maternal cow that ever lived came anywhere near the + frenzy that surged up in my bosom at that moment. I flew up to him, + foaming at the mouth. 'My dear sir,' I shrieked, '<i>are</i> you aware + that you're spoiling the best wicket that has ever been prepared since + cricket began?' He looked at me, in a dazed sort of way, and said, 'What?' + I said: 'How on earth do you think we're going to play Rugborough on a + ploughed field?' 'I don't follow, mister,' he replied. A man who calls you + 'mister' is beyond the pale. You are justified in being a little rude to + him. So I said: 'Then you must be either drunk or mad, and I trust it's + the latter.' I believe that's from some book, though I don't remember + which. This did seem to wake him up a bit, but before he could frame his + opinion in words, up came Biffen, the ground-man, to have a last look at + his wicket before retiring for the night. When he saw the holes—they + were about a foot deep, and scattered promiscuously, just where two balls + out of three pitch—he almost had hysterics. I gently explained the + situation to him, and left him to settle with my friend of the check suit. + Biffen was just settling down to a sort of Philippic when I went, and I + knew that I had left the man in competent hands. Then I went to the + station. The train I had been told to meet was the 5.30. By the way, of + course, I didn't know in the least what Uncle John was like, not having + seen him since I was about one-and-a-half, but I had been told to look out + for a tall, rather good-looking man. Well, the 5.30 came in all right, but + none of the passengers seemed to answer to the description. The ones who + were tall were not good looking, and the only man who was good looking + stood five feet nothing in his boots. I did ask him if he was Mr John + Dalgliesh; but, his name happening to be Robinson, he could not oblige. I + sat out a couple more trains, and then went back to the field. The man had + gone, but Biffen was still there. 'Was you expecting anyone today, sir?' + he asked, as I came up. 'Yes. Why?' I said. 'That was 'im,' said Biffen. + By skilful questioning, I elicited the whole thing. It seems that the + fearsome bargee, in checks, was the governor's 'tall, good-looking man'; + in other words, Uncle John himself. He had come by the 4.30, I suppose. + Anyway, there he was, and I had insulted him badly. Biffen told me that he + had asked who I was, and that he (Biffen) had given the information, while + he was thinking of something else to say to him about his digging. By the + way, I suppose he dug from force of habit. Thought he'd find diamonds, + perhaps. When Biffen told him this, he said in a nasty voice: 'Then, when + he comes back will you have the goodness to tell him that my name is John + Dalgliesh, and that he will hear more of this.' And I'm uncommonly afraid + I shall. The governor bars Uncle John awfully, I know, but he wanted me to + be particularly civil to him, because he was to get me a place in some + beastly firm when I leave. I haven't heard from home yet, but I expect to + soon. Still, I'd like to know how I could stand and watch him ruining the + wicket for our spot match of the season. As it is, it won't be as good as + it would have been. The Rugborough slow man will be unplayable if he can + find one of these spots. Altogether, it's a beastly business. Write soon, + though I know you won't—Yours ever, <i>Dick</i> + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p> + Telegram from Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G., to his + son Richard Venables: + </p> + <p> + Venables, St Austin's. What all this about Uncle John. Says were grossly + rude. Write explanation next post—<i>Venables</i>. + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p> + Letter from Mrs James Anthony (nee Miss Dorothy Venables) to her brother + Richard Venables: + </p> + <p> + Dear Dick—What <i>have</i> you been doing to Uncle John? Jim and I + are stopping for a fortnight with father, and have just come in for the + whole thing. Uncle John—<i>isn't</i> he a horrible man?—says + you were grossly insolent to him when he went down to see you. <i>Do</i> + write and tell me all about it. I have heard no details as yet. Father + refuses to give them, and gets simply <i>furious</i> when the matter is + mentioned. Jim said at dinner last night that a conscientious boy would + probably feel bound to be rude to Uncle John. Father said 'Conscience be—'; + I forget the rest, but it was awful. Jim says if he gets any worse we + shall have to sit on his head, and cut the traces. He is getting so + dreadfully <i>horsey</i>. Do write the very minute you get this. I want to + know all about it.—Your affectionate sister, <i>Dorothy</i> + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART OF LETTER FROM RICHARD VENABLES, OF ST AUSTIN'S, TO HIS FATHER + </h2> + <p> + Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.: + </p> + <p> + ... So you see it was really his fault. The Emperor of Germany has no + right to come and dig holes in our best wicket. Take a parallel case. + Suppose some idiot of a fellow (not that Uncle John's that, of course, but + you know what I mean) came and began rooting up your azaleas. Wouldn't you + want to say something cutting? I will apologize to Uncle John, if you + like; but still, I do think he might have gone somewhere else if he really + wanted to dig. So you see, etc., etc. + </p> + <h3> + V + </h3> + <p> + Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his sister Mrs James + Anthony: + </p> + <p> + Dear Dolly—Thanks awfully for your letter, and thank Jim for his + message. He's a ripper. I'm awfully glad you married him and not that + rotter, Thompson, who used to hang on so. I hope the most marvellous + infant on earth is flourishing. And now about Uncle John. Really, I am + jolly glad I did say all that to him. We played Rugborough yesterday, and + the wicket was simply vile. They won the toss, and made two hundred and + ten. Of course, the wicket was all right at one end, and that's where they + made most of their runs. I was wicket-keeping as usual, and I felt awfully + ashamed of the beastly pitch when their captain asked me if it was the + football-field. Of course, he wouldn't have said that if he hadn't been a + pal of mine, but it was probably what the rest of the team thought, only + they were too polite to say so. When we came to bat it was worse than + ever. I went in first with Welch—that's the fellow who stopped a + week at home a few years ago; I don't know whether you remember him. He + got out in the first over, caught off a ball that pitched where Uncle John + had been prospecting, and jumped up. It was rotten luck, of course, and + worse was to follow, for by half-past five we had eight wickets down for + just over the hundred, and only young Scott, who's simply a slogger, and + another fellow to come in. Well, Scott came in. I had made about sixty + then, and was fairly well set—and he started simply mopping up the + bowling. He gave a chance every over as regular as clockwork, and it was + always missed, and then he would make up for it with two or three + tremendous whangs—a safe four every time. It wasn't batting. It was + more like golf. Well, this went on for some time, and we began to get + hopeful again, having got a hundred and eighty odd. I just kept up my + wicket, while Scott hit. Then he got caught, and the last man, a fellow + called Moore, came in. I'd put him in the team as a bowler, but he could + bat a little, too, on occasions, and luckily this was one of them. There + were only eleven to win, and I had the bowling. I was feeling awfully fit, + and put their slow man clean over the screen twice running, which left us + only three to get. Then it was over, and Moore played the fast man in + grand style, though he didn't score. Well, I got the bowling again, and + half-way through the over I carted a half-volley into the Pav., and that + gave us the match. Moore hung on for a bit and made about ten, and then + got bowled. We made 223 altogether, of which I had managed to get + seventy-eight, not out. It pulls my average up a good bit. Rather decent, + isn't it? The fellows rotted about a good deal, and chaired me into the + Pav., but it was Scott who won us the match, I think. He made ninety-four. + But Uncle John nearly did for us with his beastly walking-stick. On a good + wicket we might have made any number. I don't know how the affair will + end. Keep me posted up in the governor's symptoms, and write again soon.—Your + affectionate brother, <i>Dick</i> + </p> + <p> + PS.—On looking over this letter, I find I have taken it for granted + that you know all about the Uncle John affair. Probably you do, but, in + case you don't, it was this way. You see, I was going, etc., etc. + </p> + <h3> + VI + </h3> + <p> + From Archibald Venables, of King's College, Cambridge, to Richard + Venables, of St Austin's: + </p> + <p> + Dear Dick—Just a line to thank you for your letter, and to tell you + that since I got it I have had a visit from the great Uncle John, too. He + <i>is</i> an outsider, if you like. I gave him the best lunch I could in + my rooms, and the man started a long lecture on extravagance. He doesn't + seem to understand the difference between the 'Varsity and a private + school. He kept on asking leading questions about pocket-money and + holidays, and wanted to know if my master allowed me to walk in the + streets in that waistcoat—a remark which cut me to the quick, 'that + waistcoat' being quite the most posh thing of the sort in Cambridge. He + then enquired after my studies; and, finally, when I saw him off at the + station, said that he had decided not to tip me, because he was afraid + that I was inclined to be extravagant. I was quite kind to him, however, + in spite of everything; but I was glad you had spoken to him like a + father. The recollection of it soothed me, though it seemed to worry him. + He talked a good deal about it. Glad you came off against Rugborough.—Yours + ever, <i>A. Venables</i> + </p> + <h3> + VII + </h3> + <p> + From Mr John Dalgliesh to Mr Philip Mortimer, of Penge: + </p> + <p> + Dear Sir—In reply to your letter of the 18th inst., I shall be happy + to recommend your son, Reginald, for the vacant post in the firm of Messrs + Van Nugget, Diomonde, and Mynes, African merchants. I have written them to + that effect, and you will, doubtless, receive a communication from them + shortly.—I am, my dear sir, yours faithfully, <i>J. Dalgliesh</i> + </p> + <h3> + VIII + </h3> + <p> + From Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his father Major-General Sir + Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.: + </p> + <p> + Dear Father—Uncle John writes, in answer to my apology, to say that + no apologies will meet the case; and that he has given his nomination in + that rotten City firm of his to a fellow called Mortimer. But rather a + decent thing has happened. There is a chap here I know pretty well, who is + the son of Lord Marmaduke Twistleton, and it appears that the dook himself + was down watching the Rugborough match, and liked my batting. He came and + talked to me after the match, and asked me what I was going to do when I + left, and I said I wasn't certain, and he said that, if I hadn't anything + better on, he could give me a place on his estate up in Scotland, as a + sort of land-agent, as he wanted a chap who could play cricket, because he + was keen on the game himself, and always had a lot going on in the summer + up there. So he says that, if I go up to the 'Varsity for three years, he + can guarantee me the place when I come down, with a jolly good screw and a + ripping open-air life, with lots of riding, and so on, which is just what + I've always wanted. So, can I? It's the sort of opportunity that won't + occur again, and you know you always said the only reason I couldn't go up + to the 'Varsity was, that it would be a waste of time. But in this case, + you see, it won't, because he wants me to go, and guarantees me the place + when I come down. It'll be awfully fine, if I may. I hope you'll see it.—Your + affectionate son, <i>Dick</i> + </p> + <p> + PS.—I think he's writing to you. He asked your address. I think + Uncle John's a rotter. I sent him a rattling fine apology, and this is how + he treats it. But it'll be all right if you like this land-agent idea. If + you like, you might wire your answer. + </p> + <h3> + IX + </h3> + <p> + Telegram from Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G., to his + son Richard Venables, of St Austin's: + </p> + <p> + Venables, St Austin's. Very well.—<i>Venables</i> + </p> + <h3> + X + </h3> + <p> + Extract from Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his father + Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.: + </p> + <p> + ... Thanks, awfully— + </p> + <p> + Extract from <i>The Austinian</i> of October: + </p> + <p> + The following O.A.s have gone into residence this year: At Oxford, J. + Scrymgeour, Corpus Christi; R. Venables, Trinity; K. Crespigny-Brown, + Balliol. + </p> + <p> + Extract from the <i>Daily Mail</i>'s account of the 'Varsity match of the + following summer: + </p> + <p> + ... The St Austin's freshman, Venables, fully justified his inclusion by + scoring a stylish fifty-seven. He hit eight fours, and except for a + miss-hit in the slips, at 51, which Smith might possibly have secured had + he started sooner, gave nothing like a chance. Venables, it will be + remembered, played several good innings for Oxford in the earlier matches, + notably, his not out contribution of 103 against Sussex— + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 4 — HARRISON'S SLIGHT ERROR + </h2> + <p> + The one o'clock down express was just on the point of starting. The + engine-driver, with his hand on the lever, whiled away the moments, like + the watchman in <i>The Agamemnon</i>, by whistling. The guard endeavoured + to talk to three people at once. Porters flitted to and fro, cleaving a + path for themselves with trucks of luggage. The Usual Old Lady was asking + if she was right for some place nobody had ever heard of. Everybody was + saying good-bye to everybody else, and last, but not least, P. St H. + Harrison, of St Austin's, was strolling at a leisurely pace towards the + rear of the train. There was no need for him to hurry. For had not his + friend, Mace, promised to keep a corner-seat for him while he went to the + refreshment-room to lay in supplies? Undoubtedly he had, and Harrison, as + he watched the struggling crowd, congratulated himself that he was not as + other men. A corner seat in a carriage full of his own particular friends, + with plenty of provisions, and something to read in case he got tired of + talking—it would be perfect. + </p> + <p> + So engrossed was he in these reflections, that he did not notice that from + the opposite end of the platform a youth of about his own age was also + making for the compartment in question. The first intimation he had of his + presence was when the latter, arriving first at the door by a short head, + hurled a bag on to the rack, and sank gracefully into the identical corner + seat which Harrison had long regarded as his own personal property. And to + make matters worse, there was no other vacant seat in the compartment. + Harrison was about to protest, when the guard blew his whistle. There was + nothing for it but to jump in and argue the matter out <i>en route</i>. + Harrison jumped in, to be greeted instantly by a chorus of nine male + voices. 'Outside there! No room! Turn him out!' said the chorus. Then the + chorus broke up into its component parts, and began to address him one by + one. + </p> + <p> + 'You rotter, Harrison,' said Babington, of Dacre's, 'what do you come + barging in here for? Can't you see we're five aside already?' + </p> + <p> + 'Hope you've brought a sardine-opener with you, old chap,' said Barrett, + the peerless pride of Philpott's, ''cos we shall jolly well need one when + we get to the good old Junct-i-on. Get up into the rack, Harrison, you're + stopping the ventilation.' + </p> + <p> + The youth who had commandeered Harrison's seat so neatly took another + unpardonable liberty at this point. He grinned. Not the timid, deprecating + smile of one who wishes to ingratiate himself with strangers, but a good, + six-inch grin right across his face. Harrison turned on him savagely. + </p> + <p> + 'Look here,' he said, 'just you get out of that. What do you mean by + bagging my seat?' + </p> + <p> + 'Are you a director of this line?' enquired the youth politely. Roars of + applause from the interested audience. Harrison began to feel hot and + uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + 'Or only the Emperor of Germany?' pursued his antagonist. + </p> + <p> + More applause, during which Harrison dropped his bag of provisions, which + were instantly seized and divided on the share and share alike system, + among the gratified Austinians. + </p> + <p> + 'Look here, none of your cheek,' was the shockingly feeble retort which + alone occurred to him. The other said nothing. Harrison returned to the + attack. + </p> + <p> + 'Look here,' he said, 'are you going to get out, or have I got to make + you?' + </p> + <p> + Not a word did his opponent utter. To quote the bard: 'The stripling + smiled.' To tell the truth, the stripling smiled inanely. + </p> + <p> + The other occupants of the carriage were far from imitating his reserve. + These treacherous friends, realizing that, for those who were themselves + comfortably seated, the spectacle of Harrison standing up with aching + limbs for a journey of some thirty miles would be both grateful and + comforting, espoused the cause of the unknown with all the vigour of which + they were capable. + </p> + <p> + 'Beastly bully, Harrison,' said Barrett. 'Trying to turn the kid out of + his seat! Why can't you leave the chap alone? Don't you move, kid.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks,' said the unknown, 'I wasn't going to.' + </p> + <p> + 'Now you see what comes of slacking,' said Grey. 'If you'd bucked up and + got here in time you might have bagged this seat I've got. By Jove, + Harrison, you've no idea how comfortable it is in this corner.' + </p> + <p> + 'Punctuality,' said Babington, 'is the politeness of princes.' + </p> + <p> + And again the unknown maddened Harrison with a 'best-on-record' grin. + </p> + <p> + 'But, I say, you chaps,' said he, determined as a last resource to appeal + to their better feelings (if any), 'Mace was keeping this seat for me, + while I went to get some grub. Weren't you, Mace?' He turned to Mace for + corroboration. To his surprise, Mace was nowhere to be seen. + </p> + <p> + His sympathetic school-fellows grasped the full humour of the situation as + one man, and gave tongue once more in chorus. + </p> + <p> + 'You weed,' they yelled joyfully, 'you've got into the wrong carriage. + Mace is next door.' + </p> + <p> + And then, with the sound of unquenchable laughter ringing in his ears, + Harrison gave the thing up, and relapsed into a disgusted silence. No + single word did he speak until the journey was done, and the carriage + emptied itself of its occupants at the Junction. The local train was in + readiness to take them on to St Austin's, and this time Harrison managed + to find a seat without much difficulty. But it was a bitter moment when + Mace, meeting him on the platform, addressed him as a rotter, for that he + had not come to claim the corner seat which he had been reserving for him. + They had had, said Mace, a rattling good time coming down. What sort of a + time had Harrison had in <i>his</i> carriage? Harrison's reply was not + remarkable for its clearness. + </p> + <p> + The unknown had also entered the local train. It was plain, therefore, + that he was coming to the School as a new boy. Harrison began to wonder + if, under these circumstances, something might not be done in the matter + by way of levelling up things. He pondered. When St Austin's station was + reached, and the travellers began to stream up the road towards the + College, he discovered that the newcomer was a member of his own House. He + was standing close beside him, and heard Babington explaining to him the + way to Merevale's. Merevale was Harrison's House-master. + </p> + <p> + It was two minutes after he had found out this fact that the Grand Idea + came to Harrison. He saw his way now to a revenge so artistic, so + beautifully simple, that it was with some difficulty that he restrained + himself from bursting into song. For two pins, he felt, he could have done + a cake-walk. + </p> + <p> + He checked his emotion. He beat it steadily back, and quenched it. When he + arrived at Merevale's, he went first to the matron's room. 'Has Venables + come back yet?' he asked. + </p> + <p> + Venables was the head of Merevale's House, captain of the School cricket, + wing three-quarter of the School Fifteen, and a great man altogether. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' said the matron, 'he came back early this afternoon.' + </p> + <p> + Harrison knew it. Venables always came back early on the last day of the + holidays. + </p> + <p> + 'He was upstairs a short while ago,' continued the matron. 'He was putting + his study tidy.' + </p> + <p> + Harrison knew it. Venables always put his study tidy on the last day of + the holidays. He took a keen and perfectly justifiable pride in his study, + which was the most luxurious in the House. + </p> + <p> + 'Is he there now?' asked Harrison. + </p> + <p> + 'No. He has gone over to see the Headmaster.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks,' said Harrison, 'it doesn't matter. It wasn't anything + important.' + </p> + <p> + He retired triumphant. Things were going excellently well for his scheme. + </p> + <p> + His next act was to go to the fags' room, where, as he had expected, he + found his friend of the train. Luck continued to be with him. The unknown + was alone. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo!' said Harrison. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo!' said the fellow-traveller. He had resolved to follow Harrison's + lead. If Harrison was bringing war, then war let it be. If, however, his + intentions were friendly, he would be friendly too. + </p> + <p> + 'I didn't know you were coming to Merevale's. It's the best House in the + School.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh!' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, for one thing, everybody except the kids has a study.' + </p> + <p> + 'What? Not really? Why, I thought we had to keep to this room. One of the + chaps told me so.' + </p> + <p> + 'Trying to green you, probably. You must look out for that sort of thing. + I'll show you the way to your study, if you like. Come along upstairs.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks, awfully. It's awfully good of you,' said the gratified unknown, + and they went upstairs together. + </p> + <p> + One of the doors which they passed on their way was open, disclosing to + view a room which, though bare at present, looked as if it might be made + exceedingly comfortable. + </p> + <p> + 'That's my den,' said Harrison. It was perhaps lucky that Graham, to whom + the room belonged, in fact, as opposed to fiction, did not hear the + remark. Graham and Harrison were old and tried foes. 'This is yours.' + Harrison pushed open another door at the end of the passage. + </p> + <p> + His companion stared blankly at the Oriental luxury which met his eye. + 'But, I say,' he said, 'are you sure? This seems to be occupied already.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, no, that's all right,' said Harrison, airily. 'The chap who used to + be here left last term. He didn't know he was going to leave till it was + too late to pack up all his things, so he left his study as it was. All + you've got to do is to cart the things out into the passage and leave them + there. The Moke'll take 'em away.' + </p> + <p> + The Moke was the official who combined in a single body the duties of + butler and bootboy at Merevale's House. 'Oh, right-ho!' said the unknown, + and Harrison left him. + </p> + <p> + Harrison's idea was that when Venables returned and found an absolute + stranger placidly engaged in wrecking his carefully-tidied study, he would + at once, and without making inquiries, fall upon that absolute stranger + and blot him off the face of the earth. Afterwards it might possibly come + out that he, Harrison, had been not altogether unconnected with the + business, and then, he was fain to admit, there might be trouble. But he + was a youth who never took overmuch heed for the morrow. Sufficient unto + the day was his motto. And, besides, it was distinctly worth risking. The + main point, and the one with which alone the House would concern itself, + was that he had completely taken in, scored off, and overwhelmed the youth + who had done as much by him in the train, and his reputation as one not to + be lightly trifled with would be restored to its former brilliance. + Anything that might happen between himself and Venables subsequently would + be regarded as a purely private matter between man and man, affecting the + main point not at all. + </p> + <p> + About an hour later a small Merevalian informed Harrison that Venables + wished to see him in his study. He went. Experience had taught him that + when the Head of the House sent for him, it was as a rule as well to + humour his whim and go. He was prepared for a good deal, for he had come + to the conclusion that it was impossible for him to preserve his incognito + in the matter, but he was certainly not prepared for what he saw. + </p> + <p> + Venables and the stranger were seated in two armchairs, apparently on the + very best of terms with one another. And this, in spite of the fact that + these two armchairs were the only furniture left in the study. The rest, + as he had noted with a grin before he had knocked at the door, was + picturesquely scattered about the passage. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo, Harrison,' said Venables, 'I wanted to see you. There seems to + have been a slight mistake somewhere. Did you tell my brother to shift all + the furniture out of the study?' + </p> + <p> + Harrison turned a delicate shade of green. + </p> + <p> + 'Your—er—brother?' he gurgled. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes. I ought to have told you my brother was coming to the Coll. this + term. I told the Old Man and Merevale and the rest of the authorities. + Can't make out why I forgot you. Slipped my mind somehow. However, you + seem to have been doing the square thing by him, showing him round and so + on. Very good of you.' + </p> + <p> + Harrison smiled feebly. Venables junior grinned. What seemed to Harrison a + mystery was how the brothers had managed to arrive at the School at + different times. The explanation of which was in reality very simple. The + elder Venables had been spending the last week of the holidays with + MacArthur, the captain of the St Austin's Fifteen, the same being a day + boy, suspended within a mile of the School. + </p> + <p> + 'But what I can't make out,' went on Venables, relentlessly, 'is this + furniture business. To the best of my knowledge I didn't leave suddenly at + the end of last term. I'll ask if you like, to make sure, but I fancy + you'll find you've been mistaken. Must have been thinking of someone else. + Anyhow, we thought you must know best, so we lugged all the furniture out + into the passage, and now it appears there's been a mistake of sorts, and + the stuff ought to be inside all the time. So would you mind putting it + back again? We'd help you, only we're going out to the shop to get some + tea. You might have it done by the time we get back. Thanks, awfully.' + </p> + <p> + Harrison coughed nervously, and rose to a point of order. + </p> + <p> + 'I was going out to tea, too,' he said. + </p> + <p> + 'I'm sorry, but I think you'll have to scratch the engagement,' said + Venables. + </p> + <p> + Harrison made a last effort. + </p> + <p> + 'I'm fagging for Welch this term,' he protested. + </p> + <p> + It was the rule at St Austin's that every fag had the right to refuse to + serve two masters. Otherwise there would have been no peace for that + down-trodden race. + </p> + <p> + 'That,' said Venables, 'ought to be awfully jolly for Welch, don't you + know, but as a matter of fact term hasn't begun yet. It doesn't start till + tomorrow. Weigh in.' + </p> + <p> + Various feelings began to wage war beneath Harrison's Eton waistcoat. A + profound disinclination to undertake the suggested task battled briskly + with a feeling that, if he refused the commission, things might—nay, + would—happen. + </p> + <p> + 'Harrison,' said Venables gently, but with meaning, as he hesitated, 'do + you know what it is to wish you had never been born?' + </p> + <p> + And Harrison, with a thoughtful expression on his face, picked up a + photograph from the floor, and hung it neatly in its place over the + mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 5 — BRADSHAW'S LITTLE STORY + </h2> + <p> + The qualities which in later years rendered Frederick Wackerbath Bradshaw + so conspicuous a figure in connection with the now celebrated affair of + the European, African, and Asiatic Pork Pie and Ham Sandwich Supply + Company frauds, were sufficiently in evidence during his school career to + make his masters prophesy gloomily concerning his future. The boy was in + every detail the father of the man. There was the same genial + unscrupulousness, upon which the judge commented so bitterly during the + trial, the same readiness to seize an opportunity and make the most of it, + the same brilliance of tactics. Only once during those years can I + remember an occasion on which Justice scored a point against him. I can + remember it, because I was in a sense responsible for his failure. And he + can remember it, I should be inclined to think, for other reasons. Our + then Headmaster was a man with a straight eye and a good deal of muscular + energy, and it is probable that the talented Frederick, in spite of the + passage of years, has a tender recollection of these facts. + </p> + <p> + It was the eve of the Euripides examination in the Upper Fourth. Euripides + is not difficult compared to some other authors, but he does demand a + certain amount of preparation. Bradshaw was a youth who did less + preparation than anybody I have ever seen, heard of, or read of, partly + because he preferred to peruse a novel under the table during prep., but + chiefly, I think, because he had reduced cribbing in form to such an exact + science that he loved it for its own sake, and would no sooner have come + tamely into school with a prepared lesson than a sportsman would shoot a + sitting bird. It was not the marks that he cared for. He despised them. + What he enjoyed was the refined pleasure of swindling under a master's + very eye. At the trial the judge, who had, so ran report, been himself + rather badly bitten by the Ham Sandwich Company, put the case briefly and + neatly in the words, 'You appear to revel in villainy for villainy's + sake,' and I am almost certain that I saw the beginnings of a gratified + smile on Frederick's expressive face as he heard the remark. The rest of + our study—the juniors at St Austin's pigged in quartettes—were + in a state of considerable mental activity on account of this Euripides + examination. There had been House-matches during the preceding fortnight, + and House-matches are not a help to study, especially if you are on the + very fringe of the cock-house team, as I was. By dint of practising every + minute of spare time, I had got the eleventh place for my fielding. And, + better still, I had caught two catches in the second innings, one of them + a regular gallery affair, and both off the captain's bowling. It was + magnificent, but it was not Euripides, and I wished now that it had been. + Mellish, our form-master, had an unpleasant habit of coming down with both + feet, as it were, on members of his form who failed in the book-papers. + </p> + <p> + We were working, therefore, under forced draught, and it was distinctly + annoying to see the wretched Bradshaw lounging in our only armchair with + one of Rider Haggard's best, seemingly quite unmoved at the prospect of + Euripides examinations. For all he appeared to care, Euripides might never + have written a line in his life. + </p> + <p> + Kendal voiced the opinion of the meeting. + </p> + <p> + 'Bradshaw, you worm,' he said. 'Aren't you going to do <i>any</i> work?' + </p> + <p> + 'Think not. What's the good? Can't get up a whole play of Euripides in two + hours.' + </p> + <p> + 'Mellish'll give you beans.' + </p> + <p> + 'Let him.' + </p> + <p> + 'You'll get a jolly bad report.' + </p> + <p> + 'Shan't get a report at all. I always intercept it before my guardian can + get it. He never says anything.' + </p> + <p> + 'Mellish'll probably run you in to the Old Man,' said White, the fourth + occupant of the study. + </p> + <p> + Bradshaw turned on us with a wearied air. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, do give us a rest,' he said. 'Here you are just going to do a most + important exam., and you sit jawing away as if you were paid for it. Oh, I + say, by the way, who's setting the paper tomorrow?' + </p> + <p> + 'Mellish, of course,' said White. + </p> + <p> + 'No, he isn't,' I said. 'Shows what a lot you know about it. Mellish is + setting the Livy paper.' + </p> + <p> + 'Then, who's doing this one?' asked Bradshaw. + </p> + <p> + 'Yorke.' + </p> + <p> + Yorke was the master of the Upper Fifth. He generally set one of the upper + fourth book-papers. + </p> + <p> + 'Certain?' said Bradshaw. + </p> + <p> + 'Absolutely.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks. That's all I wanted to know. By Jove, I advise you chaps to read + this. It's grand. Shall I read out this bit about a fight?' + </p> + <p> + 'No!' we shouted virtuously, all together, though we were dying to hear + it, and we turned once more to the loathsome inanities of the second + chorus. If we had been doing Homer, we should have felt more in touch with + Bradshaw. There's a good deal of similarity, when you come to compare + them, between Homer and Haggard. They both deal largely in bloodshed, for + instance. As events proved, the Euripides paper, like many things which + seem formidable at a distance, was not nearly so bad as I had expected. I + did a fair-to-moderate paper, and Kendal and White both seemed satisfied + with themselves. Bradshaw confessed without emotion that he had only + attempted the last half of the last question, and on being pressed for + further information, merely laughed mysteriously, and said vaguely that it + would be all right. + </p> + <p> + It now became plain that he had something up his sleeve. We expressed a + unanimous desire to know what it was. + </p> + <p> + 'You might tell a chap,' I said. + </p> + <p> + 'Out with it, Bradshaw, or we'll lynch you,' added Kendal. + </p> + <p> + Bradshaw, however, was not to be drawn. Much of his success in the paths + of crime, both at school and afterwards, was due to his secretive habits. + He never permitted accomplices. + </p> + <p> + On the following Wednesday the marks were read out. Out of a possible + hundred I had obtained sixty—which pleased me very much indeed—White, + fifty-five, Kendal, sixty-one. The unspeakable Bradshaw's net total was + four. + </p> + <p> + Mellish always read out bad marks in a hushed voice, expressive of disgust + and horror, but four per cent was too much for him. He shouted it, and the + form yelled applause, until Ponsonby came in from the Upper Fifth next + door with Mr Yorke's compliments, 'and would we recollect that his form + were trying to do an examination'. + </p> + <p> + When order had been restored, Mellish settled his glasses and glared + through them at Bradshaw, who, it may be remarked, had not turned a hair. + </p> + <p> + 'Bradshaw,' he said, 'how do you explain this?' + </p> + <p> + It was merely a sighting shot, so to speak. Nobody was ever expected to + answer the question. Bradshaw, however, proved himself the exception to + the rule. + </p> + <p> + 'I can explain, sir,' he said, 'if I may speak to you privately + afterwards.' + </p> + <p> + I have seldom seen anyone so astonished as Mellish was at these words. In + the whole course of his professional experience, he had never met with a + parallel case. It was hard on the poor man not to be allowed to speak his + mind about a matter of four per cent in a book-paper, but what could he + do? He could not proceed with his denunciation, for if Bradshaw's + explanation turned out a sufficient excuse, he would have to withdraw it + all again, and vast stores of golden eloquence would be wasted. But, then, + if he bottled up what he wished to say altogether, it might do him a + serious internal injury. At last he hit on a compromise. He said, 'Very + well, Bradshaw, I will hear what you have to say,' and then sprang, like + the cat in the poem, 'all claws', upon an unfortunate individual who had + scored twenty-nine, and who had been congratulating himself that + Bradshaw's failings would act as a sort of lightning-conductor to him. + Bradshaw worked off his explanation in under five minutes. I tried to stay + behind to listen, on the pretext of wanting to tidy up my desk, but was + ejected by request. Bradshaw explained that his statement was private. + </p> + <p> + After a time they came out together like long-lost brothers, Mellish with + his hand on Bradshaw's shoulder. It was some small comfort to me to + remember that Bradshaw had the greatest dislike to this sort of thing. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that Bradshaw, able exponent of the art of fiction that he + was, must have excelled himself on this occasion. I tried to get the story + out of him in the study that evening. White and Kendal assisted. We tried + persuasion first. That having failed, we tried taunts. Then we tried + kindness. Kendal sat on his legs, and I sat on his head, and White twisted + his arm. I think that we should have extracted something soon, either his + arm from its socket or a full confession, but we were interrupted. The + door flew open, and Prater (the same being our House-master, and rather a + good sort) appeared. + </p> + <p> + 'Now then, now then,' he said. Prater's manner is always abrupt. + </p> + <p> + 'What's this? I can't have this. I can't have this. Get up at once. + Where's Bradshaw?' + </p> + <p> + I rose gracefully to my feet, thereby disclosing the classic features of + the lost one. + </p> + <p> + 'The Headmaster wants to see you at once, Bradshaw, at the School House. + You others had better find something to do, or you will be getting into + trouble.' + </p> + <p> + He and Bradshaw left together, while we speculated on the cause of the + summons. + </p> + <p> + We were not left very long in suspense. In a quarter of an hour Bradshaw + returned, walking painfully, and bearing what, to the expert's eye, are + the unmistakable signs of a 'touching up', which, being interpreted, is + corporal punishment. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo,' said White, as he appeared, 'what's all this?' + </p> + <p> + 'How many?' enquired the statistically-minded Kendal. 'You'll be thankful + for this when you're a man, Bradshaw.' + </p> + <p> + 'That's what I always say to myself when I'm touched up,' added Kendal. + </p> + <p> + I said nothing, but it was to me that the wounded one addressed himself. + </p> + <p> + 'You utter ass,' he said, in tones of concentrated venom. + </p> + <p> + 'Look here, Bradshaw—' I began, protestingly. + </p> + <p> + 'It's all through you—you idiot,' he snarled. 'I got twelve.' + </p> + <p> + 'Twelve isn't so dusty,' said White, critically. 'Most I ever got was + six.' + </p> + <p> + 'But why was it?' asked Kendal. 'That's what we want to know. What have + you been and gone and done?' + </p> + <p> + 'It's about that Euripides paper,' said Bradshaw. + </p> + <p> + 'Ah!' said Kendal. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, I don't mind telling you about it now. When Mellish had me up after + school today, I'd got my yarn all ready. There wasn't a flaw in it + anywhere as far as I could see. My idea was this. I told him I'd been to + Yorke's room the day before the exam, to ask him if he had any marks for + us. That was all right. Yorke was doing the two Unseen papers, and it was + just the sort of thing a fellow would do to go and ask him about the + marks.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well?' + </p> + <p> + 'Then when I got there he was out, and I looked about for the marks, and + on the table I saw the Euripides paper.' + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove!' said Kendal. We began to understand, and to realize that here + was a master-mind. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, of course, I read it, not knowing what it was, and then, as the + only way of not taking an unfair advantage, I did as badly as I could in + the exam. That was what I told Mellish. Any beak would have swallowed it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, didn't he?' + </p> + <p> + 'Mellish did all right, but the rotter couldn't keep it to himself. Went + and told the Old Man. The Old Man sent for me. He was as decent as + anything at first. That was just his guile. He made me describe exactly + where I had seen the paper, and so on. That was rather risky, of course, + but I put it as vaguely as I could. When I had finished, he suddenly + whipped round, and said, "Bradshaw, why are you telling me all these + lies?" That's the sort of thing that makes you feel rather a wreck. I was + too surprised to say anything.' + </p> + <p> + 'I can guess the rest,' said Kendal. 'But how on earth did he know it was + all lies? Why didn't you stick to your yarn?' + </p> + <p> + 'And, besides,' I put in, 'where do I come in? I don't see what I've got + to do with it.' + </p> + <p> + Bradshaw eyed me fiercely. 'Why, the whole thing was your fault,' he said. + 'You told me Yorke was setting the paper.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, so he did, didn't he?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, he didn't. The Old Man set it himself,' said Bradshaw, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 6 — A SHOCKING AFFAIR + </h2> + <p> + The Bradshaw who appears in the following tale is the same youth who + figures as the hero—or villain, label him as you like—of the + preceding equally veracious narrative. I mention this because I should not + care for you to go away with the idea that a waistcoat marked with the + name of Bradshaw must of necessity cover a scheming heart. It may, + however, be noticed that a good many members of the Bradshaw family + possess a keen and rather sinister sense of the humorous, inherited + doubtless from their great ancestor, the dry wag who wrote that monument + of quiet drollery, <i>Bradshaw's Railway Guide</i>. So with the hero of my + story. + </p> + <p> + Frederick Wackerbath Bradshaw was, as I have pointed out, my contemporary + at St Austin's. We were in the same House, and together we sported on the + green—and elsewhere—and did our best to turn the majority of + the staff of masters into confirmed pessimists, they in the meantime + endeavouring to do the same by us with every weapon that lay to their + hand. And the worst of these weapons were the end-of-term examination + papers. Mellish was our form-master, and once a term a demon entered into + Mellish. He brooded silently apart from the madding crowd. He wandered + through dry places seeking rest, and at intervals he would smile evilly, + and jot down a note on the back of an envelope. These notes, collected and + printed closely on the vilest paper, made up the examination questions. + </p> + <p> + Our form read two authors a term, one Latin and one Greek. It was the + Greek that we feared most. Mellish had a sort of genius for picking out + absolutely untranslatable passages, and desiring us (in print) to render + the same with full notes. This term the book had been Thucydides, Book II, + with regard to which I may echo the words of a certain critic when called + upon to give his candid opinion of a friend's first novel, 'I dare not say + what I think about that book.' + </p> + <p> + About a week before the commencement of the examinations, the ordinary + night-work used to cease, and we were supposed, during that week, to be + steadily going over the old ground and arming ourselves for the + approaching struggle. There were, I suppose, people who actually did do + this, but for my own part I always used to regard those seven days as a + blessed period of rest, set apart specially to enable me to keep abreast + of the light fiction of the day. And most of the form, so far as I know, + thought the same. It was only on the night before the examination that one + began to revise in real earnest. One's methods on that night resolved + themselves into sitting in a chair and wondering where to begin. Just as + one came to a decision, it was bedtime. + </p> + <p> + 'Bradshaw,' I said, as I reached page 103 without having read a line, 'do + you know any likely bits?' + </p> + <p> + Bradshaw looked up from his book. He was attempting to get a general idea + of Thucydides' style by reading <i>Pickwick</i>. + </p> + <p> + 'What?' he said. + </p> + <p> + I obliged with a repetition of my remark. + </p> + <p> + 'Likely bits? Oh, you mean for the Thucydides. I don't know. Mellish never + sets the bits any decent ordinary individual would set. I should take my + chance if I were you.' + </p> + <p> + 'What are you going to do?' + </p> + <p> + 'I'm going to read <i>Pickwick</i>. Thicksides doesn't come within a mile + of it.' + </p> + <p> + I thought so too. + </p> + <p> + 'But how about tomorrow?' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, I shan't be there,' he said, as if it were the most ordinary of + statements. + </p> + <p> + 'Not there! Why, have you been sacked?' + </p> + <p> + This really seemed the only possible explanation. Such an event would not + have come as a surprise. It was always a matter for wonder to me <i>why</i> + the authorities never sacked Bradshaw, or at the least requested him to + leave. Possibly it was another case of the ass and the bundles of hay. + They could not make up their minds which special misdemeanour of his to + attack first. + </p> + <p> + 'No, I've not been sacked,' said Bradshaw. + </p> + <p> + A light dawned upon me. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh,' I said, 'you're going to slumber in.' For the benefit of the + uninitiated, I may mention that to slumber in is to stay in the House + during school on a pretence of illness. + </p> + <p> + 'That,' replied the man of mystery, with considerable asperity, 'is + exactly the silly rotten kid's idea that would come naturally to a + complete idiot like you.' + </p> + <p> + As a rule, I resent being called a complete idiot, but this was not the + time for asserting one's personal dignity. I had to know what Bradshaw's + scheme for evading the examination was. Perhaps there might be room for + two in it; in which case I should have been exceedingly glad to have lent + my moral support to it. I pressed for an explanation. + </p> + <p> + 'You may jaw,' said Bradshaw at last, 'as much as you jolly well please, + but I'm not going to give this away. All you're going to know is that I + shan't be there tomorrow.' + </p> + <p> + 'I bet you are, and I bet you do a jolly rank paper too,' I said, + remembering that the sceptic is sometimes vouchsafed revelations to which + the most devout believer may not aspire. It is, for instance, always the + young man who scoffs at ghosts that the family spectre chooses as his + audience. But it required more than a mere sneer or an empty gibe to pump + information out of Bradshaw. He took me up at once. + </p> + <p> + 'What'll you bet?' he said. + </p> + <p> + Now I was prepared to wager imaginary sums to any extent he might have + cared to name, but as my actual worldly wealth at that moment consisted of + one penny, and my expectations were limited to the shilling pocket-money + which I should receive on the following Saturday—half of which was + already mortgaged—it behoved me to avoid doing anything rash with my + ready money. But, since a refusal would have meant the downfall of my + arguments, I was obliged to name a figure. I named an even sixpence. After + all, I felt, I must win. By what means, other than illness, could Bradshaw + possibly avoid putting in an appearance at the Thucydides examination? + </p> + <p> + 'All right,' said Bradshaw, 'an even sixpence. You'll lose.' + </p> + <p> + 'Slumbering in barred.' + </p> + <p> + 'Of course.' + </p> + <p> + 'Real illness barred too,' I said. Bradshaw is a man of resource, and has + been known to make himself genuinely ill in similar emergencies. + </p> + <p> + 'Right you are. Slumbering in and real illness both barred. Anything else + you'd like to bar?' + </p> + <p> + I thought. + </p> + <p> + 'No. Unless—' an idea struck me—'You're not going to run + away?' + </p> + <p> + Bradshaw scorned to answer the question. + </p> + <p> + 'Now you'd better buck up with your work,' he said, opening his book + again. 'You've got about as long odds as anyone ever got. But you'll lose + all the same.' + </p> + <p> + It scarcely seemed possible. And yet—Bradshaw was generally right. + If he said he had a scheme for doing—though it was generally for not + doing—something, it rarely failed to come off. I thought of my + sixpence, my only sixpence, and felt a distinct pang of remorse. After + all, only the other day the chaplain had said how wrong it was to bet. By + Jove, so he had. Decent man the chaplain. Pity to do anything he would + disapprove of. I was on the point of recalling my wager, when before my + mind's eye rose a vision of Bradshaw rampant and sneering, and myself + writhing in my chair a crushed and scored-off wreck. I drew the line at + that. I valued my self-respect at more than sixpence. If it had been a + shilling now—. So I set my teeth and turned once more to my + Thucydides. Bradshaw, having picked up the thread of his story again, + emitted hoarse chuckles like minute guns, until I very nearly rose and + fell upon him. It is maddening to listen to a person laughing and not to + know the joke. + </p> + <p> + 'You will be allowed two hours for this paper,' said Mellish on the + following afternoon, as he returned to his desk after distributing the + Thucydides questions. 'At five minutes to four I shall begin to collect + your papers, but those who wish may go on till ten past. Write only on one + side of the paper, and put your names in the top right-hand corner. Marks + will be given for neatness. Any boy whom I see looking at his neighbour's—<i>where's + Bradshaw?</i>' + </p> + <p> + It was already five minutes past the hour. The latest of the late always + had the decency to appear at least by three minutes past. + </p> + <p> + 'Has anybody seen Bradshaw?' repeated Mellish. 'You, what's-your-name—' + (I am what's-your-name, very much at your service) '—you are in his + House. Have you seen him?' + </p> + <p> + I could have pointed out with some pleasure at this juncture that if Cain + expressed indignation at being asked where his brother was, I, by a simple + sum in proportion, might with even greater justice feel annoyed at having + to locate a person who was no relative of mine at all. Did Mr Mellish + expect me to keep an eye on every member of my House? Did Mr Mellish—in + short, what did he mean by it? + </p> + <p> + This was what I thought. I said, 'No, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'This is extraordinary,' said Mellish, 'most extraordinary. Why, the boy + was in school this morning.' + </p> + <p> + This was true. The boy had been in school that morning to some purpose, + having beaten all records (his own records) in the gentle sport of + Mellish-baiting. This evidently occurred to Mellish at the time, for he + dropped the subject at once, and told us to begin our papers. + </p> + <p> + Now I have remarked already that I dare not say what I think of + Thucydides, Book II. How then shall I frame my opinion of that examination + paper? It was Thucydides, Book II, with the few easy parts left out. It + was Thucydides, Book II, with special home-made difficulties added. It was—well, + in its way it was a masterpiece. Without going into details—I + dislike sensational and realistic writing—I may say that I + personally was not one of those who required an extra ten minutes to + finish their papers. I finished mine at half-past two, and amused myself + for the remaining hour and a half by writing neatly on several sheets of + foolscap exactly what I thought of Mr Mellish, and precisely what I hoped + would happen to him some day. It was grateful and comforting. + </p> + <p> + At intervals I wondered what had become of Bradshaw. I was not surprised + at his absence. At first I had feared that he would keep his word in that + matter. As time went on I knew that he would. At more frequent intervals I + wondered how I should enjoy being a bankrupt. + </p> + <p> + Four o'clock came round, and found me so engrossed in putting the + finishing touches to my excursus of Mr Mellish's character, that I stayed + on in the form-room till ten past. Two other members of the form stayed + too, writing with the despairing energy of those who had five minutes to + say what they would like to spread over five hours. At last Mellish + collected the papers. He seemed a trifle surprised when I gave up my + modest three sheets. Brown and Morrison, who had their eye on the form + prize, each gave up reams. Brown told me subsequently that he had only had + time to do sixteen sheets, and wanted to know whether I had adopted + Rutherford's emendation in preference to the old reading in Question II. + My prolonged stay had made him regard me as a possible rival. + </p> + <p> + I dwell upon this part of my story, because it has an important bearing on + subsequent events. If I had not waited in the form-room I should not have + gone downstairs just behind Mellish. And if I had not gone downstairs just + behind Mellish, I should not have been in at the death, that is to say the + discovery of Bradshaw, and this story would have been all beginning and + middle, and no ending, for I am certain that Bradshaw would never have + told me a word. He was a most secretive animal. + </p> + <p> + I went downstairs, as I say, just behind Mellish. St Austin's, you must + know, is composed of three blocks of buildings, the senior, the middle, + and the junior, joined by cloisters. We left the senior block by the door. + To the captious critic this information may seem superfluous, but let me + tell him that I have left the block in my time, and entered it, too, + though never, it is true, in the company of a master, in other ways. There + are windows. + </p> + <p> + Our procession of two, Mellish leading by a couple of yards, passed + through the cloisters, and came to the middle block, where the Masters' + Common Room is. I had no particular reason for going to that block, but it + was all on my way to the House, and I knew that Mellish hated having his + footsteps dogged. That Thucydides paper rankled slightly. + </p> + <p> + In the middle block, at the top of the building, far from the haunts of + men, is the Science Museum, containing—so I have heard, I have never + been near the place myself—two stuffed rats, a case of mouldering + butterflies, and other objects of acute interest. The room has a staircase + all to itself, and this was the reason why, directly I heard shouts + proceeding from that staircase, I deduced that they came from the Museum. + I am like Sherlock Holmes, I don't mind explaining my methods. + </p> + <p> + 'Help!' shouted the voice. 'Help!' + </p> + <p> + The voice was Bradshaw's. + </p> + <p> + Mellish was talking to M. Gerard, the French master, at the moment. He had + evidently been telling him of Bradshaw's non-appearance, for at the sound + of his voice they both spun round, and stood looking at the staircase like + a couple of pointers. + </p> + <p> + 'Help,' cried the voice again. + </p> + <p> + Mellish and Gerard bounded up the stairs. I had never seen a French master + run before. It was a pleasant sight. I followed. As we reached the door of + the Museum, which was shut, renewed shouts filtered through it. Mellish + gave tongue. + </p> + <p> + 'Bradshaw!' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir,' from within. + </p> + <p> + 'Are you there?' This I thought, and still think, quite a superfluous + question. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir,' said Bradshaw. + </p> + <p> + 'What are you doing in there, Bradshaw? Why were you not in school this + afternoon? Come out at once.' This in deep and thrilling tones. + </p> + <p> + 'Please, sir,' said Bradshaw complainingly, 'I can't open the door.' Now, + the immediate effect of telling a person that you are unable to open a + door is to make him try his hand at it. Someone observes that there are + three things which everyone thinks he can do better than anyone else, + namely poking a fire, writing a novel, and opening a door. + </p> + <p> + Gerard was no exception to the rule. + </p> + <p> + 'Can't open the door?' he said. 'Nonsense, nonsense.' And, swooping at the + handle, he grasped it firmly, and turned it. + </p> + <p> + At this point he made an attempt, a very spirited attempt, to lower the + world's record for the standing high jump. I have spoken above of the + pleasure it gave me to see a French master run. But for good, square + enjoyment, warranted free from all injurious chemicals, give me a French + master jumping. + </p> + <p> + 'My dear Gerard,' said the amazed Mellish. + </p> + <p> + 'I have received a shock. Dear me, I have received a most terrible shock.' + </p> + <p> + So had I, only of another kind. I really thought I should have expired in + my tracks with the effort of keeping my enjoyment strictly to myself. I + saw what had happened. The Museum is lit by electric light. To turn it on + one has to shoot the bolt of the door, which, like the handle, is made of + metal. It is on the killing two birds with one stone principle. You lock + yourself in and light yourself up with one movement. It was plain that the + current had gone wrong somehow, run amock, as it were. Mellish meanwhile, + instead of being warned by Gerard's fate, had followed his example, and + tried to turn the handle. His jump, though quite a creditable effort, fell + short of Gerard's by some six inches. I began to feel as if some sort of + round game were going on. I hoped that they would not want me to take a + hand. I also hoped that the thing would continue for a good while longer. + The success of the piece certainly warranted the prolongation of its run. + But here I was disappointed. The disturbance had attracted another + spectator, Blaize, the science and chemistry master. The matter was + hastily explained to him in all its bearings. There was Bradshaw entombed + within the Museum, with every prospect of death by starvation, unless he + could support life for the next few years on the two stuffed rats and the + case of butterflies. The authorities did not see their way to adding a + human specimen (youth's size) to the treasures in the Museum, <i>so</i>—how + was he to be got out? + </p> + <p> + The scientific mind is equal to every emergency. + </p> + <p> + 'Bradshaw,' shouted Blaize through the keyhole. + </p> + <p> + 'Sir?' + </p> + <p> + 'Are you there?' + </p> + <p> + I should imagine that Bradshaw was growing tired of this question by this + time. Besides, it cast aspersions on the veracity of Gerard and Mellish. + Bradshaw, with perfect politeness, hastened to inform the gentleman that + he was there. + </p> + <p> + 'Have you a piece of paper?' + </p> + <p> + 'Will an envelope do, sir?' + </p> + <p> + 'Bless the boy, anything will do so long as it is paper.' + </p> + <p> + Dear me, I thought, is it as bad as all that? Is Blaize, in despair of + ever rescuing the unfortunate prisoner, going to ask him to draw up a + 'last dying words' document, to be pushed under the door and despatched to + his sorrowing guardian? + </p> + <p> + 'Put it over your hand, and then shoot back the bolt.' + </p> + <p> + 'But, sir, the electricity.' + </p> + <p> + 'Pooh, boy!' + </p> + <p> + The scientific mind is always intolerant of lay ignorance. + </p> + <p> + 'Pooh, boy, paper is a non-conductor. You won't get hurt.' + </p> + <p> + Bradshaw apparently acted on his instructions. From the other side of the + door came the sharp sound of the bolt as it was shot back, and at the same + time the light ceased to shine through the keyhole. A moment later the + handle turned, and Bradshaw stepped forth—free! + </p> + <p> + 'Dear me,' said Mellish. 'Now I never knew that before, Blaize. + Remarkable. But this ought to be seen to. In the meantime, I had better + ask the Headmaster to give out that the Museum is closed until further + notice, I think.' + </p> + <p> + And closed the Museum has been ever since. That further notice has never + been given. And yet nobody seems to feel as if an essential part of their + life had ceased to be, so to speak. Curious. Bradshaw, after a short + explanation, was allowed to go away without a stain—that is to say, + without any additional stain—on his character. We left the + authorities discussing the matter, and went downstairs. + </p> + <p> + 'Sixpence isn't enough,' I said, 'take this penny. It's all I've got. You + shall have the sixpence on Saturday.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks,' said Bradshaw.' Was the Thucydides paper pretty warm?' + </p> + <p> + 'Warmish. But, I say, didn't you get a beastly shock when you locked the + door?' + </p> + <p> + 'I did the week before last, the first time I ever went to the place. This + time I was more or less prepared for it. Blaize seems to think that paper + dodge a special invention of his own. He'll be taking out a patent for it + one of these days. Why, every kid knows that paper doesn't conduct + electricity.' + </p> + <p> + 'I didn't,' I said honestly. + </p> + <p> + 'You don't know much,' said Bradshaw, with equal honesty. + </p> + <p> + 'I don't,' I replied. 'Bradshaw, you're a great man, but you missed the + best part of it all.' + </p> + <p> + 'What, the Thucydides paper?' asked he with a grin. + </p> + <p> + 'No, you missed seeing Gerard jump quite six feet.' + </p> + <p> + Bradshaw's face expressed keen disappointment. + </p> + <p> + 'No, did he really? Oh, I say, I wish I'd seen it.' + </p> + <p> + The moral of which is that the wicked do not always prosper. If Bradshaw + had not been in the Museum, he might have seen Gerard jump six feet, which + would have made him happy for weeks. On second thoughts, though, that does + not work out quite right, for if Bradshaw had not been in the Museum, + Gerard would not have jumped at all. No, better put it this way. I was + virtuous, and I had the pleasure of witnessing the sight I have referred + to. But then there was the Thucydides paper, which Bradshaw missed but + which I did not. No. On consideration, the moral of this story shall be + withdrawn and submitted to a committee of experts. Perhaps they will be + able to say what it is. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 7 — THE BABE AND THE DRAGON + </h2> + <p> + The annual inter-house football cup at St Austin's lay between Dacre's, + who were the holders, and Merevale's, who had been runner-up in the + previous year, and had won it altogether three times out of the last five. + The cup was something of a tradition in Merevale's, but of late Dacre's + had become serious rivals, and, as has been said before, were the present + holders. + </p> + <p> + This year there was not much to choose between the two teams. Dacre's had + three of the First Fifteen and two of the Second; Merevale's two of the + First and four of the Second. St Austin's being not altogether a + boarding-school, many of the brightest stars of the teams were day boys, + and there was, of course, always the chance that one of these would + suddenly see the folly of his ways, reform, and become a member of a + House. + </p> + <p> + This frequently happened, and this year it was almost certain to happen + again, for no less a celebrity than MacArthur, commonly known as the Babe, + had been heard to state that he was negotiating with his parents to that + end. Which House he would go to was at present uncertain. He did not know + himself, but it would, he said, probably be one of the two favourites for + the cup. This lent an added interest to the competition, for the presence + of the Babe would almost certainly turn the scale. The Babe's nationality + was Scots, and, like most Scotsmen, he could play football more than a + little. He was the safest, coolest centre three-quarter the School had, or + had had for some time. He shone in all branches of the game, but + especially in tackling. To see the Babe spring apparently from nowhere, in + the middle of an inter-school match, and bring down with violence a man + who had passed the back, was an intellectual treat. Both Dacre's and + Merevale's, therefore, yearned for his advent exceedingly. The reasons + which finally decided his choice were rather curious. They arose in the + following manner: + </p> + <p> + The Babe's sister was at Girton. A certain Miss Florence Beezley was also + at Girton. When the Babe's sister revisited the ancestral home at the end + of the term, she brought Miss Beezley with her to spend a week. What she + saw in Miss Beezley was to the Babe a matter for wonder, but she must have + liked her, or she would not have gone out of her way to seek her company. + Be that as it may, the Babe would have gone a very long way out of his way + to avoid her company. He led a fine, healthy, out-of-doors life during + that week, and doubtless did himself a lot of good. But times will occur + when it is imperative that a man shall be under the family roof. + Meal-times, for instance. The Babe could not subsist without food, and he + was obliged, Miss Beezley or no Miss Beezley, to present himself on these + occasions. This, by the way, was in the Easter holidays, so that there was + no school to give him an excuse for absence. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast was a nightmare, lunch was rather worse, and as for dinner, it + was quite unspeakable. Miss Beezley seemed to gather force during the day. + It was not the actual presence of the lady that revolted the Babe, for + that was passable enough. It was her conversation that killed. She refused + to let the Babe alone. She was intensely learned herself, and seemed to + take a morbid delight in dissecting his ignorance, and showing everybody + the pieces. Also, she persisted in calling him Mr MacArthur in a way that + seemed somehow to point out and emphasize his youthfulness. She added it + to her remarks as a sort of after-thought or echo. + </p> + <p> + 'Do you read Browning, Mr MacArthur?' she would say suddenly, having + apparently waited carefully until she saw that his mouth was full. + </p> + <p> + The Babe would swallow convulsively, choke, blush, and finally say— + </p> + <p> + 'No, not much.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah!' This in a tone of pity not untinged with scorn. + </p> + <p> + 'When you say "not much", Mr MacArthur, what exactly do you mean? Have you + read any of his poems?' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, yes, one or two.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah! Have you read "Pippa Passes"?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, I think not.' + </p> + <p> + 'Surely you must know, Mr MacArthur, whether you have or not. Have you + read "Fifine at the Fair"?' + </p> + <p> + 'No.' + </p> + <p> + 'Have you read "Sordello"?' + </p> + <p> + 'No.' + </p> + <p> + 'What <i>have</i> you read, Mr MacArthur?' + </p> + <p> + Brought to bay in this fashion, he would have to admit that he had read + 'The Pied Piper of Hamelin', and not a syllable more, and Miss Beezley + would look at him for a moment and sigh softly. The Babe's subsequent + share in the conversation, provided the Dragon made no further onslaught, + was not large. + </p> + <p> + One never-to-be-forgotten day, shortly before the end of her visit, a + series of horrible accidents resulted in their being left to lunch + together alone. The Babe had received no previous warning, and when he was + suddenly confronted with this terrible state of affairs he almost swooned. + The lady's steady and critical inspection of his style of carving a + chicken completed his downfall. His previous experience of carving had + been limited to those entertainments which went by the name of + 'study-gorges', where, if you wanted to help a chicken, you took hold of + one leg, invited an accomplice to attach himself to the other, and pulled. + </p> + <p> + But, though unskilful, he was plucky and energetic. He lofted the bird out + of the dish on to the tablecloth twice in the first minute. Stifling a mad + inclination to call out 'Fore!' or something to that effect, he laughed a + hollow, mirthless laugh, and replaced the errant fowl. When a third attack + ended in the same way, Miss Beezley asked permission to try what she could + do. She tried, and in two minutes the chicken was neatly dismembered. The + Babe re-seated himself in an over-wrought state. + </p> + <p> + 'Tell me about St Austin's, Mr MacArthur,' said Miss Beezley, as the Babe + was trying to think of something to say—not about the weather. 'Do + you play football?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah!' + </p> + <p> + A prolonged silence. + </p> + <p> + 'Do you—' began the Babe at last. + </p> + <p> + 'Tell me—' began Miss Beezley, simultaneously. + </p> + <p> + 'I beg your pardon,' said the Babe; 'you were saying—?' + </p> + <p> + 'Not at all, Mr MacArthur. <i>You</i> were saying—?' + </p> + <p> + 'I was only going to ask you if you played croquet?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes; do you?' + </p> + <p> + 'No.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah!' + </p> + <p> + 'If this is going to continue,' thought the Babe, 'I shall be reluctantly + compelled to commit suicide.' + </p> + <p> + There was another long pause. + </p> + <p> + 'Tell me the names of some of the masters at St Austin's, Mr MacArthur,' + said Miss Beezley. She habitually spoke as if she were an examination + paper, and her manner might have seemed to some to verge upon the + autocratic, but the Babe was too thankful that the question was not on + Browning or the higher algebra to notice this. He reeled off a list of + names. + </p> + <p> + '... Then there's Merevale—rather a decent sort—and Dacre.' + </p> + <p> + 'What sort of a man is Mr Dacre?' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather a rotter, I think.' + </p> + <p> + 'What is a rotter, Mr MacArthur?' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, I don't know how to describe it exactly. He doesn't play cricket or + anything. He's generally considered rather a crock.' + </p> + <p> + 'Really! This is very interesting, Mr MacArthur. And what is a crock? I + suppose what it comes to,' she added, as the Babe did his best to find a + definition, 'is this, that you yourself dislike him.' The Babe admitted + the impeachment. Mr Dacre had a finished gift of sarcasm which had made + him writhe on several occasions, and sarcastic masters are rarely very + popular. + </p> + <p> + 'Ah!' said Miss Beezley. She made frequent use of that monosyllable. It + generally gave the Babe the same sort of feeling as he had been accustomed + to experience in the happy days of his childhood when he had been caught + stealing jam. + </p> + <p> + Miss Beezley went at last, and the Babe felt like a convict who has just + received a free pardon. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon in the following term he was playing fives with Charteris, a + prefect in Merevale's House. Charteris was remarkable from the fact that + he edited and published at his own expense an unofficial and highly + personal paper, called <i>The Glow Worm</i>, which was a great deal more + in demand than the recognized School magazine, <i>The Austinian</i>, and + always paid its expenses handsomely. + </p> + <p> + Charteris had the journalistic taint very badly. He was always the first + to get wind of any piece of School news. On this occasion he was in + possession of an exclusive item. The Babe was the first person to whom he + communicated it. + </p> + <p> + 'Have you heard the latest romance in high life, Babe?' he observed, as + they were leaving the court. 'But of course you haven't. You never do hear + anything.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well?' asked the Babe, patiently. + </p> + <p> + 'You know Dacre?' + </p> + <p> + 'I seem to have heard the name somewhere.' + </p> + <p> + 'He's going to be married.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes. Don't trouble to try and look interested. You're one of those + offensive people who mind their own business and nobody else's. Only I + thought I'd tell you. Then you'll have a remote chance of understanding my + quips on the subject in next week's <i>Glow Worm</i>. You laddies frae the + north have to be carefully prepared for the subtler flights of wit.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks,' said the Babe, placidly. 'Good-night.' + </p> + <p> + The Headmaster intercepted the Babe a few days after he was going home + after a scratch game of football. 'MacArthur,' said he, 'you pass Mr + Dacre's House, do you not, on your way home? Then would you mind asking + him from me to take preparation tonight? I find I shall be unable to be + there.' It was the custom at St Austin's for the Head to preside at + preparation once a week; but he performed this duty, like the celebrated + Irishman, as often as he could avoid it. + </p> + <p> + The Babe accepted the commission. He was shown into the drawing-room. To + his consternation, for he was not a society man, there appeared to be a + species of tea-party going on. As the door opened, somebody was just + finishing a remark. + </p> + <p> + '... faculty which he displayed in such poems as "Sordello",' said the + voice. + </p> + <p> + The Babe knew that voice. + </p> + <p> + He would have fled if he had been able, but the servant was already + announcing him. Mr Dacre began to do the honours. + </p> + <p> + 'Mr MacArthur and I have met before,' said Miss Beezley, for it was she. + 'Curiously enough, the subject which we have just been discussing is one + in which he takes, I think, a great interest. I was saying, Mr MacArthur, + when you came in, that few of Tennyson's works show the poetic faculty + which Browning displays in "Sordello".' + </p> + <p> + The Babe looked helplessly at Mr Dacre. + </p> + <p> + 'I think you are taking MacArthur out of his depth there,' said Mr Dacre. + 'Was there something you wanted to see me about, MacArthur?' + </p> + <p> + The Babe delivered his message. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, yes, certainly,' said Mr Dacre. 'Shall you be passing the School + House tonight? If so, you might give the Headmaster my compliments, and + say I shall be delighted.' + </p> + <p> + The Babe had had no intention of going out of his way to that extent, but + the chance of escape offered by the suggestion was too good to be missed. + He went. + </p> + <p> + On his way he called at Merevale's, and asked to see Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'Look here, Charteris,' he said, 'you remember telling me that Dacre was + going to be married?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, do you know her name by any chance?' + </p> + <p> + 'I ken it weel, ma braw Hielander. She is a Miss Beezley.' + </p> + <p> + 'Great Scott!' said the Babe. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo! Why, was your young heart set in that direction? You amaze and + pain me, Babe. I think we'd better have a story on the subject in <i>The + Glow Worm</i>, with you as hero and Dacre as villain. It shall end + happily, of course. I'll write it myself.' + </p> + <p> + 'You'd better,' said the Babe, grimly. 'Oh, I say, Charteris.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well?' + </p> + <p> + 'When I come as a boarder, I shall be a House-prefect, shan't I, as I'm in + the Sixth?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes.' + </p> + <p> + 'And prefects have to go to breakfast and supper, and that sort of thing, + pretty often with the House-beak, don't they?' + </p> + <p> + 'Such are the facts of the case.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks. That's all. Go away and do some work. Good-night.' + </p> + <p> + The cup went to Merevale's that year. The Babe played a singularly + brilliant game for them. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 8 — THE MANOEUVRES OF CHARTERIS + </h2> + <p> + <i>Chapter 1</i> + </p> + <p> + 'Might I observe, sir—' + </p> + <p> + 'You may observe whatever you like,' said the referee kindly. + 'Twenty-five.' + </p> + <p> + 'The rules say—' + </p> + <p> + 'I have given my decision. Twenty-<i>five</i>!' A spot of red appeared on + the official cheek. The referee, who had been heckled since the kick-off, + was beginning to be annoyed. + </p> + <p> + 'The ball went behind without bouncing, and the rules say—' + </p> + <p> + 'Twenty-FIVE!!' shouted the referee. 'I am perfectly well aware what the + rules say.' And he blew his whistle with an air of finality. The secretary + of the Bargees' F.C. subsided reluctantly, and the game was restarted. + </p> + <p> + The Bargees' match was a curious institution. Their real name was the Old + Crockfordians. When, a few years before, the St Austin's secretary had + received a challenge from them, dated from Stapleton, where their + secretary happened to reside, he had argued within himself as follows: + 'This sounds all right. Old Crockfordians? Never heard of Crockford. + Probably some large private school somewhere. Anyhow, they're certain to + be decent fellows.' And he arranged the fixture. It then transpired that + Old Crockford was a village, and, from the appearance of the team on the + day of battle, the Old Crockfordians seemed to be composed exclusively of + the riff-raff of same. They wore green shirts with a bright yellow leopard + over the heart, and C.F.C. woven in large letters about the chest. One or + two of the outsides played in caps, and the team to a man criticized the + referee's decisions with point and pungency. Unluckily, the first year saw + a weak team of Austinians rather badly beaten, with the result that it + became a point of honour to wipe this off the slate before the fixture + could be cut out of the card. The next year was also unlucky. The Bargees + managed to score a penalty goal in the first half, and won on that. The + match resulted in a draw in the following season, and by this time the + thing had become an annual event. + </p> + <p> + Now, however, the School was getting some of its own back. The Bargees had + brought down a player of some reputation from the North, and were as + strong as ever in the scrum. But St Austin's had a great team, and were + carrying all before them. Charteris and Graham at half had the ball out to + their centres in a way which made Merevale, who looked after the football + of the School, feel that life was worth living. And when once it was out, + things happened rapidly. MacArthur, the captain of the team, with Thomson + as his fellow-centre, and Welch and Bannister on the wings, did what they + liked with the Bargees' three-quarters. All the School outsides had + scored, even the back, who dropped a neat goal. The player from the North + had scarcely touched the ball during the whole game, and altogether the + Bargees were becoming restless and excited. + </p> + <p> + The kick-off from the twenty-five line which followed upon the small + discussion alluded to above, reached Graham. Under ordinary circumstances + he would have kicked, but in a winning game original methods often pay. He + dodged a furious sportsman in green and yellow, and went away down the + touch-line. He was almost through when he stumbled. He recovered himself, + but too late. Before he could pass, someone was on him. Graham was not + heavy, and his opponent was muscular. He was swung off his feet, and the + next moment the two came down together, Graham underneath. A sharp pain + shot through his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + A doctor emerged from the crowd—there is always a doctor in a crowd—and + made an examination. + </p> + <p> + 'Anything bad?' asked the referee. + </p> + <p> + 'Collar-bone,' said the doctor. 'The usual, you know. Rather badly + smashed. Nothing dangerous, of course. Be all right in a month or so. Stop + his playing. Rather a pity. Much longer before half-time?' + </p> + <p> + 'No. I was just going to blow the whistle when this happened.' + </p> + <p> + The injured warrior was carried off, and the referee blew his whistle for + half-time. + </p> + <p> + 'I say, Charteris,' said MacArthur, 'who the deuce am I to put half + instead of Graham?' + </p> + <p> + 'Rogers used to play half in his childhood, I believe. But, I say, did you + ever see such a scrag? Can't you protest, or something?' + </p> + <p> + 'My dear chap, how can I? It's on our own ground. These Bargee beasts are + visitors, if you come to think of it. I'd like to wring the chap's neck + who did it. I didn't spot who it was. Did you see?' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather. Their secretary. That man with the beard. I'll get Prescott to + mark him this half.' + </p> + <p> + Prescott was the hardest tackler in the School. He accepted the commission + cheerfully, and promised to do his best by the bearded one. + </p> + <p> + Charteris certainly gave him every opportunity. When he threw the ball out + of touch, he threw it neatly to the criminal with the beard, and Prescott, + who stuck to him closer than a brother, had generally tackled him before + he knew what had happened. After a time he began to grow thoughtful, and + when there was a line-out went and stood among the three-quarters. In this + way much of Charteris's righteous retribution miscarried, but once or + twice he had the pleasure and privilege of putting in a piece of tackling + on his own account. The match ended with the enemy still intact, but + considerably shaken. He was also rather annoyed. He spoke to Charteris on + the subject as they were leaving the field. + </p> + <p> + 'I was watching you,' he said, <i>apropos</i> of nothing apparently. + </p> + <p> + 'That must have been nice for you,' said Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'You wait.' + </p> + <p> + 'Certainly. Any time you're passing, I'm sure—' + </p> + <p> + 'You ain't 'eard the last of me yet.' + </p> + <p> + 'That's something of a blow,' said Charteris cheerfully, and they parted. + </p> + <p> + Charteris, having got into his blazer, ran after Welch and MacArthur, and + walked back with them to the House. All three of them were at Merevale's. + </p> + <p> + 'Poor old Tony,' said MacArthur. 'Where have they taken him to? The + House?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' said Welch. 'I say, Babe, you ought to scratch this match next + year. Tell 'em the card's full up or something.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, I don't know. One expects fairly rough play in this sort of game. + After all, we tackle pretty hard ourselves. I know I always try and go my + hardest. If the man happens to be brittle, that's his lookout,' concluded + the bloodthirsty Babe. + </p> + <p> + 'My dear man,' said Charteris, 'there's all the difference between a + decent tackle and a bally scrag like the one that doubled Tony up. You + can't break a chap's collar-bone without trying to.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, if you come to think of it, I suppose the man must have been fairly + riled. You can't expect a man to be in an angelic temper when his side's + been licked by thirty points.' + </p> + <p> + The Babe was one of those thoroughly excellent persons who always try, + when possible, to make allowances for everybody. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, dash it,' said Charteris indignantly, 'if he had lost his hair he + might have drawn the line at falling on Tony like that. It wasn't the + tackling part of it that crocked him. The beast simply jumped on him like + a Hooligan. Anyhow, I made him sit up a bit before we finished. I gave + Prescott the tip to mark him out of touch. Have you ever been collared by + Prescott? It's a liberal education. Now, there you are, you see. Take + Prescott. He's never crocked a man seriously in his life. I don't count + being winded. That's absolutely an accident. Well, there you are, then. + Prescott weighs thirteen-ten, and he's all muscle, and he goes like a + battering-ram. You'll own that. He goes as hard as he jolly well knows + how, and yet the worst he has ever done is to lay a man out for a couple + of minutes while he gets his wind back. Well, compare him with this Bargee + man. The Bargee weighs a stone less and isn't nearly as strong, and yet he + smashes Tony's collar-bone. It's all very well, Babe, but you can't get + away from it. Prescott tackles fairly and the Bargee scrags.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' said MacArthur, 'I suppose you're right.' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather,' said Charteris. 'I wish I'd broken his neck.' + </p> + <p> + 'By the way,' said Welch, 'you were talking to him after the match. What + was he saying?' + </p> + <p> + Charteris laughed. + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove, I'd forgotten; he said I hadn't heard the last of him, and that + I was to wait.' + </p> + <p> + 'What did you say?' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, I behaved beautifully. I asked him to be sure and look in any time he + was passing, and after a few chatty remarks we parted.' + </p> + <p> + 'I wonder if he meant anything.' + </p> + <p> + 'I believe he means to waylay me with a buckled belt. I shan't stir out + except with the Old Man or some other competent bodyguard. "'Orrible + outrage, shocking death of a St Austin's schoolboy." It would look rather + well on the posters.' + </p> + <p> + Welch stuck strenuously to the point. + </p> + <p> + 'No, but, look here, Charteris,' he said seriously, 'I'm not rotting. You + see, the man lives in Stapleton, and if he knows anything of School rules—' + </p> + <p> + 'Which he doesn't probably. Why should he? Well?'—'If he knows + anything of the rules, he'll know that Stapleton's out of bounds, and he + may book you there and run you in to Merevale.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' said MacArthur. 'I tell you what, you'd do well to knock off a few + of your expeditions to Stapleton. You know you wouldn't go there once a + month if it wasn't out of bounds. You'll be a prefect next term. I should + wait till then, if I were you.' + </p> + <p> + 'My dear chap, what does it matter? The worst that can happen to you for + breaking bounds is a couple of hundred lines, and I've got a capital of + four hundred already in stock. Besides, things would be so slow if you + always kept in bounds. I always feel like a cross between Dick Turpin and + Machiavelli when I go to Stapleton. It's an awfully jolly feeling. Like + warm treacle running down your back. It's cheap at two hundred lines.' + </p> + <p> + 'You're an awful fool,' said Welch, rudely but correctly. + </p> + <p> + Welch was a youth who treated the affairs of other people rather too + seriously. He worried over them. This is not a particularly common trait + in the character of either boy or man, but Welch had it highly developed. + He could not probably have explained exactly why he was worried, but he + undoubtedly was. Welch had a very grave and serious mind. He shared a + study with Charteris—for Charteris, though not yet a School-prefect, + was part owner of a study—and close observation had convinced him + that the latter was not responsible for his actions, and that he wanted + somebody to look after him. He had therefore elected himself to the post + of a species of modified and unofficial guardian angel to him. The duties + were heavy, and the remuneration exceedingly light. + </p> + <p> + 'Really, you know,' said MacArthur, 'I don't see what the point of all + your lunacy is. I don't know if you're aware of it, but the Old Man's + getting jolly sick with you.' + </p> + <p> + 'I didn't know,' said Charteris, 'but I'm very glad to hear it. For hist! + I have a ger-rudge against the person. Beneath my ban that mystic man + shall suffer, <i>coute que coute</i>, Matilda. He sat upon me—publicly, + and the resultant blot on my scutcheon can only be wiped out with blood, + or broken rules,' he added. + </p> + <p> + This was true. To listen to Charteris on the subject, one might have + thought that he considered the matter rather amusing than otherwise. This, + however, was simply due to the fact that he treated everything flippantly + in conversation. But, like the parrot, he thought the more. The actual <i>casus + belli</i> had been trivial. At least the mere spectator would have + considered it trivial. It had happened after this fashion. Charteris was a + member of the School corps. The orderly-room of the School corps was in + the junior part of the School buildings. Charteris had been to replace his + rifle in that shrine of Mars after a mid-day drill, and on coming out into + the passage had found himself in the middle of a junior school 'rag' of + the conventional type. Somebody's cap had fallen off, and two hastily + picked teams were playing football with it (Association rules). Now, + Charteris was not a prefect (that, it may be observed in passing, was + another source of bitterness in him towards the Powers, for he was fairly + high up in the Sixth, and others of his set, Welch, Thomson, and Tony + Graham, who were also in the Sixth—the two last below him in form + order—had already received their prefects' caps). Not being a + prefect, it would have been officious in him to have stopped the game. So + he was passing on with what Mr Hurry Bungsho Jabberjee, B.A., would have + termed a beaming simper of indescribable suavity, when a member of one of + the opposing teams, in effecting a G. O. Smithian dribble, cannoned into + him. To preserve his balance—this will probably seem a very thin + line of defence, but 'I state but the facts'—he grabbed at the + disciple of Smith amidst applause, and at that precise moment a new actor + appeared on the scene—the Headmaster. Now, of all the things that + lay in his province, the Headmaster most disliked to see a senior + 'ragging' with a junior. He had a great idea of the dignity of the senior + school, and did all that in him lay to see that it was kept up. The + greater number of the juniors with whom the senior was found ragging, the + more heinous the offence. Circumstantial evidence was dead against + Charteris. To all outward appearances he was one of the players in the + impromptu football match. The soft and fascinating beams of the simper, to + quote Mr Jabberjee once more, had not yet faded from the act. A + well-chosen word or two from the Headmagisterial lips put a premature end + to the football match, and Charteris was proceeding on his way when the + Headmaster called him. He stopped. The Headmaster was angry. So angry, + indeed, that he did what in a more lucid interval he would not have done. + He hauled a senior over the coals in the hearing of a number of juniors, + one of whom (unidentified) giggled loudly. As Charteris had on previous + occasions observed, the Old Man, when he did start to take a person's + measure, didn't leave out much. The address was not long, but it covered a + great deal of ground. The section of it which chiefly rankled in + Charteris's mind, and which had continued to rankle ever since, was that + in which the use of the word 'buffoon' had occurred. Everybody who has a + gift of humour and (very naturally) enjoys exercising it, hates to be + called a buffoon. It was Charteris's one weak spot. Every other abusive + epithet in the language slid off him without penetrating or causing him + the least discomfort. The word 'buffoon' went home, right up to the hilt. + And, to borrow from Mr Jabberjee for positively the very last time, he had + observed (mentally): 'Henceforward I will perpetrate heaps of the lowest + dregs of vice.' He had, in fact, started a perfect bout of breaking rules, + simply because they were rules. The injustice of the thing rankled. No one + so dislikes being punished unjustly as the person who might have been + punished justly on scores of previous occasions, if he had only been found + out. To a certain extent, Charteris ran amok. He broke bounds and did + little work, and—he was beginning gradually to find this out—got + thoroughly tired of it all. Offended dignity, however, still kept him at + it, and much as he would have preferred to have resumed a less feverish + type of existence, he did not do so. + </p> + <p> + 'I have a ger-rudge against the man,' he said. + </p> + <p> + 'You <i>are</i> an idiot, really,' said Welch. + </p> + <p> + 'Welch,' said Charteris, by way of explanation to MacArthur, 'is a lad of + coarse fibre. He doesn't understand the finer feelings. He can't see that + I am doing this simply for the Old Man's good. Spare the rod, spile the + choild. Let's go and have a look at Tony when we're changed. He'll be in + the sick-room if he's anywhere.' + </p> + <p> + 'All right,' said the Babe, as he went into his study. 'Buck up. I'll toss + you for first bath in a second.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris walked on with Welch to their sanctum. + </p> + <p> + 'You know,' said Welch seriously, stooping to unlace his boots, 'rotting + apart, you really are a most awful ass. I wish I could get you to see it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Never you mind, ducky,' said Charteris, 'I'm all right. I'll look after + myself.' + </p> + <p> + <i>Chapter 2</i> + </p> + <p> + It was about a week after the Bargees' match that the rules respecting + bounds were made stricter, much to the popular indignation. The penalty + for visiting Stapleton without leave was increased from two hundred lines + to two extra lessons. The venomous characteristic of extra lesson was that + it cut into one's football, for the criminal was turned into a form-room + from two till four on half-holidays, and so had to scratch all athletic + engagements for the day, unless he chose to go for a solitary run + afterwards. In the cricket term the effect of this was not so deadly. It + was just possible that you might get an innings somewhere after four + o'clock, even if only at the nets. But during the football season—it + was now February—to be in extra lesson meant a total loss of + everything that makes life endurable, and the School protested (to one + another, in the privacy of their studies) with no uncertain voice against + this barbarous innovation. + </p> + <p> + The reason for the change had been simple. At the corner of the High + Street at Stapleton was a tobacconist's shop, and Mr Prater, strolling in + one evening to renew his stock of Pioneer, was interested to observe P. St + H. Harrison, of Merevale's, purchasing a consignment of 'Girl of my Heart' + cigarettes (at twopence-halfpenny the packet of twenty, including a + coloured picture of Lord Kitchener). Now, Mr Prater was one of the most + sportsmanlike of masters. If he had merely met Harrison out of bounds, and + it had been possible to have overlooked him, he would have done so. But + such a proceeding in the interior of a small shop was impossible. There + was nothing to palliate the crime. The tobacconist also kept the wolf from + the door, and lured the juvenile population of the neighbourhood to it, by + selling various weird brands of sweets, but it was only too obvious that + Harrison was not after these. Guilt was in his eye, and the packet of + cigarettes in his hand. Also Harrison's House cap was fixed firmly at the + back of his head. Mr Prater finished buying his Pioneer, and went out + without a word. That night it was announced to Harrison that the + Headmaster wished to see him. The Headmaster saw him, though for a certain + period of the interview he did not see the Headmaster, having turned his + back on him by request. On the following day Stapleton was placed doubly + out of bounds. + </p> + <p> + Tony, who was still in bed, had not heard the news when Charteris came to + see him on the evening of the day on which the edict had gone forth. + </p> + <p> + 'How are you getting on?' asked Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, fairly well. It's rather slow.' + </p> + <p> + 'The grub seems all right.' Charteris absently reached out for a slice of + cake. + </p> + <p> + 'Not bad.' + </p> + <p> + 'And you don't have to do any work.' + </p> + <p> + 'No.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, then, it seems to me you're having a jolly good time. What don't + you like about it?' + </p> + <p> + 'It's so slow, being alone all day.' + </p> + <p> + 'Makes you appreciate intellectual conversation all the more when you get + it. Mine, for instance.' + </p> + <p> + 'I want something to read.' + </p> + <p> + 'I'll bring you a Sidgwick's <i>Greek Prose Composition</i>, if you like. + Full of racy stories.' + </p> + <p> + 'I've read 'em, thanks.' + </p> + <p> + 'How about Jebb's <i>Homer</i>? You'd like that. Awfully interesting. + Proves that there never was such a man as Homer, you know, and that the <i>Iliad</i> + and the <i>Odyssey</i> were produced by evolution. General style, quietly + funny. Make you roar.' + </p> + <p> + 'Don't be an idiot. I'm simply starving for something to read. Haven't you + got anything?' + </p> + <p> + 'You've read all mine.' + </p> + <p> + 'Hasn't Welch got any books?' + </p> + <p> + 'Not one. He bags mine when he wants to read. I'll tell you what I will do + if you like.' + </p> + <p> + 'What?' + </p> + <p> + 'Go into Stapleton, and borrow something from Adamson.' Adamson was the + College doctor. + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove, that's not a bad idea.' + </p> + <p> + 'It's a dashed good idea, which wouldn't have occurred to anybody but a + genius. I've been quite a pal of Adamson's ever since I had the flu. I go + to tea with him occasionally, and we talk medical shop. Have you ever + tried talking medical shop during tea? Nothing like it for giving you an + appetite.' + </p> + <p> + 'Has he got anything readable?' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather. Have you ever tried anything of James Payn's?' + </p> + <p> + 'I've read <i>Terminations</i>, or something,' said Tony doubtfully, 'but + he's so obscure.' + </p> + <p> + 'Don't,' said Charteris sadly, 'please don't. <i>Terminations</i> is by + one Henry James, and there is a substantial difference between him and + James Payn. Anyhow, if you want a short biography of James Payn, he wrote + a hundred books, and they're all simply ripping, and Adamson has got a + good many of them, and I'm hoping to borrow a couple—any two will do—and + you're going to read them. I know one always bars a book that's + recommended to one, but you've got no choice. You're not going to get + anything else till you've finished those two.' + </p> + <p> + 'All right,' said Tony. 'But Stapleton's out of bounds. I suppose + Merevale'll give you leave to go in.' + </p> + <p> + 'He won't,' said Charteris. 'I shan't ask him. On principle. So long.' + </p> + <p> + On the following afternoon Charteris went into Stapleton. The distance by + road was almost exactly one mile. If you went by the fields it was longer, + because you probably lost your way. + </p> + <p> + Dr Adamson's house was in the High Street. Charteris knocked at the door. + The servant was sorry, but the doctor was out. Her tone seemed to suggest + that, if she had had any say in the matter, he would have remained in. + Would Charteris come in and wait? Charteris rather thought he would. He + waited for half an hour, and then, as the absent medico did not appear to + be coming, took two books from the shelf, wrote a succinct note explaining + what he had done, and why he had done it, hoping the doctor would not + mind, and went out with his literary trophies into the High Street again. + </p> + <p> + The time was now close on five o'clock. Lock-up was not till a quarter + past six—six o'clock nominally, but the doors were always left open + till a quarter past. It would take him about fifteen minutes to get back, + less if he trotted. Obviously, the thing to do here was to spend a + thoughtful quarter of an hour or so inspecting the sights of the town. + These were ordinarily not numerous, but this particular day happened to be + market day, and there was a good deal going on. The High Street was full + of farmers, cows, and other animals, the majority of the former well on + the road to intoxication. It is, of course, extremely painful to see a man + in such a condition, but when such a person is endeavouring to count a + perpetually moving drove of pigs, the onlooker's pain is sensibly + diminished. Charteris strolled along the High Street observing these and + other phenomena with an attentive eye. Opposite the Town Hall he was + button-holed by a perfect stranger, whom, by his conversation, he soon + recognized as the Stapleton 'character'. There is a 'character' in every + small country town. He is not a bad character; still less is he a good + character. He is just a 'character' pure and simple. This particular man—or + rather, this man, for he was anything but particular—apparently took + a great fancy to Charteris at first sight. He backed him gently against a + wall, and insisted on telling him an interminable anecdote of his shady + past, when, it seemed, he had been a 'super' in some travelling company. + The plot of the story, as far as Charteris could follow it, dealt with a + theatrical tour in Dublin, where some person or persons unknown had, with + malice prepense, scattered several pounds of snuff on the stage previous + to a performance of <i>Hamlet</i>; and, according to the 'character', when + the ghost of Hamlet's father sneezed steadily throughout his great scene, + there was not a dry eye in the house. The 'character' had concluded that + anecdote, and was half-way through another, when Charteris, looking at his + watch, found that it was almost six o'clock. He interrupted one of the + 'character's' periods by diving past him and moving rapidly down the + street. The historian did not seem to object. Charteris looked round and + saw that he had button-holed a fresh victim. He was still gazing in one + direction and walking in another, when he ran into somebody. + </p> + <p> + 'Sorry,' said Charteris hastily. 'Hullo!' + </p> + <p> + It was the secretary of the Old Crockfordians, and, to judge from the + scowl on that gentleman's face, the recognition was mutual. + </p> + <p> + 'It's you, is it?' said the secretary in his polished way. + </p> + <p> + 'I believe so,' said Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'Out of bounds,' observed the man. + </p> + <p> + Charteris was surprised. This grasp of technical lore on the part of a + total outsider was as unexpected as it was gratifying. + </p> + <p> + 'What do you know about bounds?' said Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'I know you ain't allowed to come 'ere, and you'll get it 'ot from your + master for coming.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah, but he won't know. I shan't tell him, and I'm sure you will respect + my secret.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris smiled in a winning manner. + </p> + <p> + 'Ho!' said the man, 'Ho indeed!' + </p> + <p> + There is something very clinching about the word 'Ho'. It seems definitely + to apply the closure to any argument. At least, I have never yet met + anyone who could tell me the suitable repartee. + </p> + <p> + 'Well,' said Charteris affably, 'don't let me keep you. I must be going + on.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ho!' observed the man once more. 'Ho indeed!' + </p> + <p> + 'That's a wonderfully shrewd remark,' said Charteris. 'I can see that, but + I wish you'd tell me exactly what it means.' + </p> + <p> + 'You're out of bounds.' + </p> + <p> + 'Your mind seems to run in a groove. You can't get off that bounds + business. How do you know Stapleton's out of bounds?' + </p> + <p> + 'I have made enquiries,' said the man darkly. + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove,' said Charteris delightedly, 'this is splendid. You're a regular + sleuth-hound. I dare say you've found out my name and House too?' + </p> + <p> + 'I may 'ave,' said the man, 'or I may not 'ave.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, now you mention it, I suppose one of the two contingencies is + probable. Well, I'm awfully glad to have met you. Good-bye. I must be + going.' + </p> + <p> + 'You're goin' with me.' + </p> + <p> + 'Arm in arm?' + </p> + <p> + 'I don't want to <i>'ave</i> to take you.' + </p> + <p> + 'No,' said Charteris, 'I should jolly well advise you not to try. This is + my way.' + </p> + <p> + He walked on till he came to the road that led to St Austin's. The + secretary of the Old Crockfordians stalked beside him with determined + stride. + </p> + <p> + 'Now,' said Charteris, when they were on the road, 'you mustn't mind if I + walk rather fast. I'm in a hurry.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris's idea of walking rather fast was to dash off down the road at + quarter-mile pace. The move took the man by surprise, but, after a moment, + he followed with much panting. It was evident that he was not in training. + Charteris began to feel that the walk home might be amusing in its way. + After they had raced some three hundred yards he slowed down to a walk + again. It was at this point that his companion evinced a desire to do the + rest of the journey with a hand on the collar of his coat. + </p> + <p> + 'If you touch me,' observed Charteris with a surprising knowledge of legal + <i>minutiae</i>, 'it'll be a technical assault, and you'll get run in; and + you'll get beans anyway if you try it on.' + </p> + <p> + The man reconsidered matters, and elected not to try it on. + </p> + <p> + Half a mile from the College Charteris began to walk rather fast again. He + was a good half-miler, and his companion was bad at every distance. After + a game struggle he dropped to the rear, and finished a hundred yards + behind in considerable straits. Charteris shot in at Merevale's door with + five minutes to spare, and went up to his study to worry Welch by telling + him about it. + </p> + <p> + 'Welch, you remember the Bargee who scragged Tony? Well, there have been + all sorts of fresh developments. He's just been pacing me all the way from + Stapleton.' + </p> + <p> + 'Stapleton! Have you been to Stapleton? Did Merevale give you leave?' + </p> + <p> + 'No. I didn't ask him.' + </p> + <p> + 'You <i>are</i> an idiot. And now this Bargee man will go straight to the + Old Man and run you in. I wonder you didn't think of that.' + </p> + <p> + 'Curious I didn't.' + </p> + <p> + 'I suppose he saw you come in here?' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather. He couldn't have had a better view if he'd paid for a seat. Half + a second; I must just run up with these volumes to Tony.' + </p> + <p> + When he came back he found Welch more serious than ever. + </p> + <p> + 'I told you so,' said Welch. 'You're to go to the Old Man at once. He's + just sent over for you. I say, look here, if it's only lines I don't mind + doing some of them, if you like.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris was quite touched by this sporting offer. + </p> + <p> + 'It's awfully good of you,' he said, 'but it doesn't matter, really. I + shall be all right.' + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later he returned, beaming. + </p> + <p> + 'Well,' said Welch, 'what's he given you?' + </p> + <p> + 'Only his love, to give to you. It was this way. He first asked me if I + wasn't perfectly aware that Stapleton was out of bounds. "Sir," says I, + "I've known it from childhood's earliest hour." "Ah," says he to me, "did + Mr Merevale give you leave to go in this afternoon?" "No," says I, "I + never consulted the gent you mention."' + </p> + <p> + 'Well?' + </p> + <p> + 'Then he ragged me for ten minutes, and finally told me I must go into + extra the next two Saturdays.' + </p> + <p> + 'I thought so.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah, but mark the sequel. When he had finished, I said that I was sorry I + had mistaken the rules, but I had thought that a chap was allowed to go + into Stapleton if he got leave from a master. "But you said that Mr + Merevale did not give you leave," said he. "Friend of my youth," I replied + courteously, "you are perfectly correct. As always. Mr Merevale did not + give me leave, but," I added suavely, "Mr Dacre did." And I came away, + chanting hymns of triumph in a mellow baritone, and leaving him in a dead + faint on the sofa. And the Bargee, who was present during the conflict, + swiftly and silently vanished away, his morale considerably shattered. And + that, my gentle Welch,' concluded Charteris cheerfully, 'put me one up. So + pass the biscuits, and let us rejoice if we never rejoice again.' + </p> + <p> + <i>Chapter 3</i> + </p> + <p> + The Easter term was nearing its end. Football, with the exception of the + final House-match, which had still to come off, was over, and life was in + consequence a trifle less exhilarating than it might have been. In some + ways the last few weeks before the Easter holidays are quite pleasant. You + can put on running shorts and a blazer and potter about the grounds, + feeling strong and athletic, and delude yourself into the notion that you + are training for the sports. Ten minutes at the broad jump, five with the + weight, a few sprints on the track—it is all very amusing and + harmless, but it is apt to become monotonous after a time. And if the + weather is at all inclined to be chilly, such an occupation becomes + impossible. + </p> + <p> + Charteris found things particularly dull. He was a fair average runner, + but there were others far better at every distance, so that he saw no use + in mortifying the flesh with strict training. On the other hand, in view + of the fact that the final House-match had yet to be played, and that + Merevale's was one of the two teams that were going to play it, it behoved + him to keep himself at least moderately fit. The genial muffin and the + cheery crumpet were still things to be avoided. He thus found himself in a + position where, apparently, the few things which it was possible for him + to do were barred, and the net result was that he felt slightly dull. + </p> + <p> + To make matters worse, all the rest of his set were working full time at + their various employments, and had no leisure for amusing him. Welch + practised hundred-yard sprints daily, and imagined that it would be quite + a treat for Charteris to be allowed to time him. So he gave him the + stopwatch, saw him safely to the end of the track, and at a given signal + dashed off in the approved American style. By the time he reached the + tape, dutifully held by two sporting Merevalian juniors, Charteris's + attention had generally been attracted elsewhere. 'What time?' Welch would + pant. 'By Jove,' Charteris would observe blandly, 'I forgot to look. About + a minute and a quarter, I fancy.' At which Welch, who always had a notion + that he had done it in ten and a fifth <i>that</i> time, at any rate, + would dissemble his joy, and mildly suggest that somebody else should hold + the watch. Then there was Jim Thomson, generally a perfect mine of + elevating conversation. He was in for the mile and also the half, and + refused to talk about anything except those distances, and the best + methods for running them in the minimum of time. Charteris began to feel a + blue melancholy stealing over him. The Babe, again. He might have helped + to while away the long hours, but unfortunately the Babe had been taken + very bad with a notion that he was going to win the 'cross-country run, + and when, in addition to this, he was seized with a panic with regard to + the prospects of the House team in the final, and began to throw out hints + concerning strict training, Charteris regarded him as a person to be + avoided. If he fled to the Babe for sympathy now, the Babe would be just + as likely as not to suggest that he should come for a ten-mile spin with + him, to get him into condition for the final Houser. The very thought of a + ten-mile spin made Charteris feel faint. Lastly, there was Tony. But + Tony's company was worse than none at all. He went about with his arm in a + sling, and declined to be comforted. But for his injury, he would by now + have been training hard for the Aldershot Boxing Competition, and the fact + that he was now definitely out of it had a very depressing effect upon + him. He lounged moodily about the gymnasium, watching Menzies, who was to + take his place, sparring with the instructor, and refused consolation. + Altogether, Charteris found life a distinct bore. + </p> + <p> + He was reduced to such straits for amusement, that one Wednesday + afternoon, finding himself with nothing else to do, he was working at a + burlesque and remarkably scurrilous article on 'The Staff, by one who has + suffered', which he was going to insert in <i>The Glow Worm</i>, an + unofficial periodical which he had started for the amusement of the School + and his own and his contributors' profit. He was just warming to his work, + and beginning to enjoy himself, when the door opened without a preliminary + knock. Charteris deftly slid a piece of blotting-paper over his MS., for + Merevale occasionally entered a study in this manner. And though there was + nothing about Merevale himself in the article, it would be better perhaps, + thought Charteris, if he did not see it. But it was not Merevale. It was + somebody far worse. The Babe. + </p> + <p> + The Babe was clothed as to his body in football clothes, and as to face, + in a look of holy enthusiasm. Charteris knew what that look meant. It + meant that the Babe was going to try and drag him out for a run. + </p> + <p> + 'Go away, Babe,' he said, 'I'm busy.' + </p> + <p> + 'Why on earth are you slacking in here on this ripping afternoon?' + </p> + <p> + 'Slacking!' said Charteris. 'I like that. I'm doing berrain work, Babe. + I'm writing an article on masters and their customs, which will cause a + profound sensation in the Common Room. At least it would, if they ever saw + it, but they won't. Or I hope they won't for their sake <i>and</i> mine. + So run away, my precious Babe, and don't disturb your uncle when he's + busy.' + </p> + <p> + 'Rot,' said the Babe firmly, 'you haven't taken any exercise for a week.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris replied proudly that he had wound up his watch only last night. + The Babe refused to accept the remark as relevant to the matter in hand. + </p> + <p> + 'Look here, Alderman,' he said, sitting down on the table, and gazing + sternly at his victim, 'it's all very well, you know, but the final comes + on in a few days, and you know you aren't in any too good training.' + </p> + <p> + 'I am,' said Charteris, 'I'm as fit as a prize fighter. Simply full of + beans. Feel my ribs.' + </p> + <p> + The Babe declined the offer. + </p> + <p> + 'No, but I say,' he said plaintively, 'I wish you'd treat it seriously. + It's getting jolly serious, really. If Dacre's win that cup again this + year, that'll make four years running.' + </p> + <p> + 'Not so,' said Charteris, like the mariner of + infinite-resource-and-sagacity; 'not so, but far otherwise. It'll only + make three.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, three's bad enough.' + </p> + <p> + 'True, oh king, three is quite bad enough.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, then, there you are. Now you see.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris looked puzzled. + </p> + <p> + 'Would you mind explaining that remark?' he said. 'Slowly.' + </p> + <p> + But the Babe had got off the table, and was prowling round the room, + opening cupboards and boxes. + </p> + <p> + 'What are you playing at?' enquired Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'Where do you keep your footer things?' + </p> + <p> + 'What do you want with my footer things, if you don't mind my asking?' + </p> + <p> + 'I'm going to help you put them on, and then you're coming for a run.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah,' said Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes. Just a gentle spin to keep you in training. Hullo, this looks like + them.' + </p> + <p> + He plunged both hands into a box near the window and flung out a mass of + football clothes. It reminded Charteris of a terrier digging at a + rabbit-hole. + </p> + <p> + He protested. + </p> + <p> + 'Don't, Babe. Treat 'em tenderly. You'll be spoiling the crease in those + bags if you heave 'em about like that. I'm very particular about how I + look on the football field. <i>I</i> was always taught to dress myself + like a little gentleman, so to speak. Well, now you've seen them, put 'em + away.' + </p> + <p> + 'Put 'em on,' said the Babe firmly. + </p> + <p> + 'You are a beast, Babe. I don't want to go for a run. I'm getting too old + for violent exercise.' + </p> + <p> + 'Buck up,' said the Babe. 'We mustn't chuck any chances away. Now that + Tony can't play, we shall have to do all we know if we want to win.' + </p> + <p> + 'I don't see what need there is to get nervous about it. Considering we've + got three of the First three-quarter line, and the Second Fifteen back, we + ought to do pretty well.' + </p> + <p> + 'But look at Dacre's scrum. There's Prescott, to start with. He's worth + any two of our men put together. Then they've got Carter, Smith, and + Hemming out of the first, and Reeve-Jones out of the second. And their + outsides aren't so very bad, if you come to think of it. Bannister's in + the first, and the other three-quarters are all good. And they've got both + the second halves. You'll have practically to look after both of them now + that Tony's crocked. And Baddeley has come on a lot this term.' + </p> + <p> + 'Babe,' said Charteris, 'you have reason. I will turn over a new leaf. I + <i>will</i> be good. Give me my things and I'll come for a run. Only + please don't let it be anything over twenty miles.' + </p> + <p> + 'Good man,' said the gratified Babe. 'We won't go far, and will take it + quite easy.' + </p> + <p> + 'I tell you what,' said Charteris. 'Do you know a place called Worbury? I + thought you wouldn't, probably. It's only a sort of hamlet, two cottages, + three public-houses, and a duck-pond, and that sort of thing. I only know + it because Welch and I ran there once last year. It's in the Badgwick + direction, about three miles by road, mostly along the level. I vote we + muffle up fairly well, blazers and sweaters and so on, run to Worbury, tea + at one of the cottages, and back in time for lock-up. How does that strike + you?' + </p> + <p> + 'It sounds all right. How about tea though? Are you certain you can get + it?' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather. The Oldest Inhabitant is quite a pal of mine.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris's circle of acquaintances was a standing wonder to the Babe and + other Merevalians. He seemed to know everybody in the county. + </p> + <p> + When once he was fairly started on any business, physical or mental, + Charteris generally shaped well. It was the starting that he found the + difficulty. Now that he was actually in motion, he was enjoying himself + thoroughly. He wondered why on earth he had been so reluctant to come for + this run. The knowledge that there were three miles to go, and that he was + equal to them, made him feel a new man. He felt fit. And there is nothing + like feeling fit for dispelling boredom. He swung along with the Babe at a + steady pace. + </p> + <p> + 'There's the cottage,' he said, as they turned a bend of the road, and + Worbury appeared a couple of hundred yards away. 'Let's sprint.' They + sprinted, and arrived at the door of the cottage with scarcely a yard + between them, much to the admiration of the Oldest Inhabitant, who was + smoking a thoughtful pipe in his front garden. Mrs Oldest Inhabitant came + out of the cottage at the sound of voices, and Charteris broached the + subject of tea. The menu was sumptuous and varied, and even the Babe, in + spite of his devotion to strict training, could scarce forbear to smile + happily at the mention of hot cakes. + </p> + <p> + During the <i>mauvais quart d'heure</i> before the meal, Charteris kept up + an animated conversation with the Oldest Inhabitant, the Babe joining in + from time to time when he could think of anything to say. Charteris + appeared to be quite a friend of the family. He enquired after the Oldest + Inhabitant's rheumatics. It was gratifying to find that they were + distinctly better. How had Mrs O. I. been since his last visit? Prarper + hearty? Excellent. How was the O. I.'s nevvy? + </p> + <p> + At the mention of his nevvy the O. I. became discursive. He told his + audience everything that had happened in connection with the said nevvy + for years back. After which he started to describe what he would probably + do in the future. Amongst other things, there were going to be some sports + at Rutton today week, and his nevvy was going to try and win the cup for + what the Oldest Inhabitant vaguely described as 'a race'. He had won it + last year. Yes, prarper good runner, his nevvy. Where was Rutton? the Babe + wanted to know. About eight miles out of Stapleton, said Charteris, who + was well up in local geography. You got there by train. It was the next + station. + </p> + <p> + Mrs O. I. came out to say that tea was ready, and, being drawn into the + conversation on the subject of the Rutton sports, produced a programme of + the same, which her nevvy had sent them. From this it seemed that the + nevvy's 'spot' event was the egg and spoon race. An asterisk against his + name pointed him out as the last year's winner. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo,' said Charteris, 'I see there's a strangers' mile. I'm a demon at + the mile when I'm roused. I think I shall go in for it.' + </p> + <p> + He handed the programme back and began his tea. + </p> + <p> + 'You know, Babe,' he said, as they were going back that evening, 'I really + think I shall go in for that race. It would be a most awful rag. It's the + day before the House-match, so it'll just get me fit.' + </p> + <p> + 'Don't be a fool,' said the Babe. 'There would be a fearful row about it + if you were found out. You'd get extras for the rest of your life.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, the final Houser comes off on a Thursday, so it won't affect that.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, but still—' + </p> + <p> + 'I shall think about it,' said Charteris. 'You needn't go telling anyone.' + </p> + <p> + 'If you'll take my advice, you'll drop it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Your suggestion has been noted, and will receive due attention,' said + Charteris. 'Put on the pace a bit.' + </p> + <p> + They lengthened their stride, and conversation came to an abrupt end. + </p> + <p> + <i>Chapter 4</i> + </p> + <p> + 'I shall go, Babe,' said Charteris on the following night. + </p> + <p> + The Sixth Form had a slack day before them on the morrow, there being a + temporary lull in the form-work which occurred about once a week, when + there was no composition of any kind to be done. The Sixth did four + compositions a week, two Greek and two Latin, and except for these did not + bother themselves very much about overnight preparation. The Latin authors + which the form were doing were Livy and Virgil, and when either of these + were on the next day's programme, most of the Sixth considered that they + were justified in taking a night off. They relied on their ability to + translate both authors at sight and without previous acquaintance. The + popular notion that Virgil is hard rarely appeals to a member of a public + school. There are two ways of translating Virgil, the conscientious and + the other. He prefers the other. + </p> + <p> + On this particular night, therefore, work was 'off'. Merevale was over at + the Great Hall, taking preparation, and the Sixth-Form Merevalians had + assembled in Charteris's study to talk about things in general. It was + after a pause of some moments, that had followed upon a lively discussion + of the House's prospects in the forthcoming final, that Charteris had + spoken. + </p> + <p> + 'I shall go, Babe,' said he. + </p> + <p> + 'Go where?' asked Tony, from the depths of a deck-chair. + </p> + <p> + 'Babe knows.' + </p> + <p> + The Babe turned to the company and explained. + </p> + <p> + 'The lunatic's going in for the strangers' mile at some sports at Rutton + next week. He'll get booked for a cert. He can't see that. I never saw + such a man.' + </p> + <p> + 'Rally round,' said Charteris, 'and reason with me. I'll listen. Tony, + what do you think about it?' + </p> + <p> + Tony expressed his opinion tersely, and Charteris thanked him. Welch, who + had been reading, now awoke to the fact that a discussion was in progress, + and asked for details. The Babe explained once more, and Welch heartily + corroborated Tony's remarks. Charteris thanked him too. + </p> + <p> + 'You aren't really going, are you?' asked Welch. + </p> + <p> + 'Rather,' said Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'The Old Man won't give you leave.' + </p> + <p> + 'Shan't worry the poor man with such trifles.' + </p> + <p> + 'But it's miles out of bounds. Stapleton station is out of bounds to start + with. It's against rules to go in a train, and Rutton's even more out of + bounds than Stapleton.' + </p> + <p> + 'And as there are sports there,' said Tony, 'the Old Man is certain to put + Rutton specially out of bounds for that day. He always bars a St Austin's + chap going to a place when there's anything going on there.' + </p> + <p> + 'I don't care. What have I to do with the Old Man's petty prejudices? Now, + let me get at my time-table. Here we are. Now then.' + </p> + <p> + 'Don't be a fool,' said Tony, + </p> + <p> + 'Certainly not. Look here, there's a train starts from Stapleton at three. + I can catch that all right. Gets to Rutton at three-twenty. Sports begin + at three-fifteen. At least, they are supposed to. Over before five, I + should think. At least, my race will be, though I must stop to see the + Oldest Inhabitant's nevvy win the egg and spoon canter. But that ought to + come on before the strangers' race. Train back at a quarter past five. + Arrives at a quarter to six. Lock up six-fifteen. That gives me half an + hour to get here from Stapleton. What more do you want? I shall do it + easily, and ... the odds against my being booked are about twenty-five to + one. At which price if any gent present cares to deposit his money, I am + willing to take him. Now I'll treat you to a tune, if you're good.' + </p> + <p> + He went to the cupboard and produced his gramophone. Charteris's musical + instruments had at one time been strictly suppressed by the authorities, + and, in consequence, he had laid in a considerable stock of them. At last, + when he discovered that there was no rule against the use of musical + instruments in the House, Merevale had yielded. The stipulation that + Charteris should play only before prep. was rigidly observed, except when + Merevale was over at the Hall, and the Sixth had no work. On such + occasions Charteris felt justified in breaking through the rule. He had a + gramophone, a banjo, a penny whistle, and a mouth organ. The banjo, which + he played really well, was the most in request, but the gramophone was + also popular. + </p> + <p> + 'Turn on "Whistling Rufus",' observed Thomson. + </p> + <p> + 'Whistling Rufus' was duly turned on, giving way after an encore to + 'Bluebells'. + </p> + <p> + 'I always weep when I hear this,' said Tony. + </p> + <p> + 'It <i>is</i> beautiful, isn't it?' said Charteris. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I'll be your sweetheart, if you—will be—mine, + All my life, I'll be your valentine. + Bluebells I've gathered—grrhhrh. +</pre> + <p> + The needle of the gramophone, after the manner of its kind, slipped + raspingly over the surface of the wax, and the rest of the ballad was + lost. + </p> + <p> + 'That,' said Charteris, 'is how I feel with regard to the Old Man. I'd be + his sweetheart, if he'd be mine. But he makes no advances, and the stain + on my scutcheon is not yet wiped out. I must say I haven't tried gathering + bluebells for him yet, nor have I offered my services as a perpetual + valentine, but I've been very kind to him in other ways.' + </p> + <p> + 'Is he still down on you?' asked the Babe. + </p> + <p> + 'He hasn't done much lately. We're in a state of truce at present. Did I + tell you how I scored about Stapleton?' + </p> + <p> + 'You've only told us about a hundred times,' said the Babe brutally. 'I + tell you what, though, he'll score off you if he finds you going to + Rutton.' + </p> + <p> + 'Let's hope he won't.' + </p> + <p> + 'He won't,' said Welch suddenly. + </p> + <p> + 'Why?' + </p> + <p> + 'Because you won't go. I'll bet you anything you like that you won't go.' + </p> + <p> + That settled Charteris. It was the sort of remark that always acted on him + like a tonic. He had been intending to go all the time, but it was this + speech of Welch's that definitely clinched the matter. One of his mottoes + for everyday use was 'Let not thyself be scored off by Welch.' + </p> + <p> + 'That's all right,' he said. 'Of course I shall go. What's the next item + you'd like on this machine?' + </p> + <p> + The day of the sports arrived, and the Babe, meeting Charteris at + Merevale's gate, made a last attempt to head him off from his purpose. + </p> + <p> + 'How are you going to take your things?' he asked. 'You can't carry a bag. + The first beak you met would ask questions.' + </p> + <p> + If he had hoped that this would be a crushing argument, he was + disappointed. + </p> + <p> + Charteris patted a bloated coat pocket. + </p> + <p> + 'Bags,' he said laconically. 'Vest,' he added, doing the same to his other + pocket. 'Shoes,' he concluded, 'you will observe I am carrying in a handy + brown paper parcel, and if anybody wants to know what's in it, I shall + tell them it's acid drops. Sure you won't come, too?' + </p> + <p> + 'Quite, thanks.' + </p> + <p> + 'All right. So long then. Be good while I'm gone.' + </p> + <p> + And he passed on down the road that led to Stapleton. + </p> + <p> + The Rutton Recreation Ground presented, as the <i>Stapleton Herald</i> + justly remarked in its next week's issue, 'a gay and animated appearance'. + There was a larger crowd than Charteris had expected. He made his way + through them, resisting without difficulty the entreaties of a hoarse + gentleman in a check suit to have three to two on 'Enery something for the + hundred yards, and came at last to the dressing-tent. + </p> + <p> + At this point it occurred to him that it would be judicious to find out + when his race was to start. It was rather a chilly day, and the less time + he spent in the undress uniform of shorts the better. He bought a correct + card for twopence, and scanned it. The strangers' mile was down for + four-fifty. There was no need to change for an hour yet. He wished the + authorities could have managed to date the event earlier. + </p> + <p> + Four-fifty was running it rather fine. The race would be over by about + five to five, and it was a walk of some ten minutes to the station, less + if he hurried. That would give him ten minutes for recovering from the + effects of the race, and changing back into his ordinary clothes again. It + would be quick work. But, having come so far, he was not inclined to go + back without running in the race. He would never be able to hold his head + up again if he did that. He left the dressing-tent, and started on a tour + of the field. + </p> + <p> + The scene was quite different from anything he had ever witnessed before + in the way of sports. The sports at St Austin's were decorous to a degree. + These leaned more to the rollickingly convivial. It was like an ordinary + race-meeting, except that men were running instead of horses. Rutton was a + quiet little place for the majority of the year, but it woke up on this + day, and was evidently out to enjoy itself. The Rural Hooligan was a good + deal in evidence, and though he was comparatively quiet just at present, + the frequency with which he visited the various refreshment stalls that + dotted the ground gave promise of livelier times in the future. Charteris + felt that the afternoon would not be dull. + </p> + <p> + The hour soon passed, and Charteris, having first seen the Oldest + Inhabitant's nevvy romp home in the egg and spoon event, took himself off + to the dressing-tent, and began to get into his running clothes. The bell + for his race was just ringing when he left the tent. He trotted over to + the starting place. + </p> + <p> + Apparently there was not a very large 'field'. Two weedy-looking youths of + about Charteris's age, dressed in blushing pink, put in an appearance, and + a very tall, thin man came up almost immediately afterwards. Charteris had + just removed his coat, and was about to get to his place on the line, when + another competitor arrived, and, to judge by the applause that greeted his + appearance, he was evidently a favourite in the locality. It was with + shock that Charteris recognized his old acquaintance, the Bargees' + secretary. + </p> + <p> + He was clad in running clothes of a bright orange and a smile of conscious + superiority, and when somebody in the crowd called out 'Go it, Jarge!' he + accepted the tribute as his due, and waved a condescending hand in the + speaker's direction. + </p> + <p> + Some moments elapsed before he recognized Charteris, and the latter had + time to decide upon his line of action. If he attempted concealment in any + way, the man would recognize that on this occasion, at any rate, he had, + to use an adequate if unclassical expression, got the bulge, and then + there would be trouble. By brazening things out, however, there was just a + chance that he might make him imagine that there was more in the matter + than met the eye, and that, in some mysterious way, he had actually + obtained leave to visit Rutton that day. After all, the man didn't know + very much about School rules, and the recollection of the recent fiasco in + which he had taken part would make him think twice about playing the + amateur policeman again, especially in connection with Charteris. + </p> + <p> + So he smiled genially, and expressed a hope that the man enjoyed robust + health. + </p> + <p> + The man replied by glaring in a simple and unaffected manner. + </p> + <p> + 'Looked up the Headmaster lately?' asked Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'What are you doing here?' + </p> + <p> + 'I'm going to run. Hope you don't mind.' + </p> + <p> + 'You're out of bounds.' + </p> + <p> + 'That's what you said before. You'd better enquire a bit before you make + rash statements. Otherwise, there's no knowing what may happen. Perhaps Mr + Dacre has given me leave.' + </p> + <p> + The man said something objurgatory under his breath, but forbore to + continue the discussion. He was wondering, as Charteris had expected that + he would, whether the latter had really got leave or not. It was a + difficult problem. + </p> + <p> + Whether such a result was due to his mental struggles, or whether it was + simply to be attributed to his poor running, is open to question, but the + fact remains that the secretary of the Old Crockfordians did not shine in + the strangers' mile. He came in last but one, vanquishing the pink + sportsman by a foot. Charteris, after a hot finish, was beaten on the tape + by one of the weedy youths, who exhibited astounding sprinting powers in + the last two hundred yards, overhauling Charteris, who had led all the + time, in fine style, and scoring what the <i>Stapleton Herald</i> + described as a 'highly popular victory'. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he had recovered his normal stock of wind—which was not + immediately—it was borne in upon Charteris that if he wanted to + catch the five-fifteen back to Stapleton, he had better be beginning to + change. He went to the dressing-tent, and on examining his watch was + horrified to find that he had just ten minutes in which to do everything, + and the walk to the station, he reflected, was a long five minutes. He + literally hurled himself into his clothes, and, disregarding the Bargee, + who had entered the tent and seemed to wish to continue the discussion at + the point where they had left off, shot off towards the gate nearest the + station. He had exactly four minutes and twenty-five seconds in which to + complete the journey, and he had just run a mile. + </p> + <p> + <i>Chapter 5</i> + </p> + <p> + Fortunately the road was mainly level. On the other hand, he was hampered + by an overcoat. After the first hundred yards he took this off, and + carried it in an unwieldy parcel. This, he found, answered admirably. + Running became easier. He had worked the stiffness out of his legs by this + time, and was going well. Three hundred yards from the station it was + anybody's race. The exact position of the other competitor, the train, + could not be defined. It was at any rate not yet within earshot, which + meant that it still had at least a quarter of a mile to go. Charteris + considered that he had earned a rest. He slowed down to a walk, but after + proceeding at this pace for a few yards, thought that he heard a distant + whistle, and dashed on again. Suddenly a raucous bellow of laughter + greeted his ears from a spot in front of him, hidden from his sight by a + bend in the road. + </p> + <p> + 'Somebody slightly tight,' thought Charteris, rapidly diagnosing the case. + 'By Jove, if he comes rotting about with me I'll kill him.' Having to do + anything in a desperate hurry always made Charteris's temper slightly + villainous. He turned the corner at a sharp trot, and came upon two youths + who seemed to be engaged in the harmless occupation of trying to ride a + bicycle. They were of the type which he held in especial aversion, the + Rural Hooligan type, and one at least of the two had evidently been + present at a recent circulation of the festive bowl. He was wheeling the + bicycle about the road in an aimless manner, and looked as if he wondered + what was the matter with it that it would not stay in the same place for + two consecutive seconds. The other youth was apparently of the + 'Charles-his-friend' variety, content to look on and applaud, and + generally to play chorus to his companion's 'lead'. He was standing at the + side of the road, smiling broadly in a way that argued feebleness of mind. + Charteris was not quite sure which of the two types he loathed the more. + He was inclined to call it a tie. + </p> + <p> + However, there seemed to be nothing particularly lawless in what they were + doing now. If they were content to let him pass without hindrance, he, for + his part, was content generously to overlook the insult they offered him + in daring to exist, and to maintain a state of truce. But, as he drew + nearer, he saw that there was more in this business than the casual + spectator might at first have supposed. A second and keener inspection of + the reptiles revealed fresh phenomena. In the first place, the bicycle + which Hooligan number one was playing with was a lady's bicycle, and a + small one at that. Now, up to the age of fourteen and the weight of ten + stone, a beginner at cycling often finds it more convenient to learn to + ride on a lady's machine than on a gentleman's. The former offers greater + facilities for rapid dismounting, a quality not to be despised in the + earlier stages of initiation. But, though this is undoubtedly the case, + and though Charteris knew that it was so, yet he felt instinctively that + there was something wrong here. Hooligans of twenty years and twelve stone + do not learn to ride on small ladies' machines, or, if they do, it is + probably without the permission of the small lady who owns the same. + Valuable as his time was, Charteris felt that it behoved him to spend a + thoughtful minute or so examining into this affair. He slowed down once + again to a walk, and, as he did so, his eye fell upon the character in the + drama whose absence had puzzled him, the owner of the bicycle. And from + that moment he felt that life would be a hollow mockery if he failed to + fall upon those revellers and slay them. She stood by the hedge on the + right, a forlorn little figure in grey, and she gazed sadly and helplessly + at the manoeuvres that were going on in the middle of the road. Her age + Charteris put down at a venture at twelve—a correct guess. Her state + of mind he also conjectured. She was letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I + would', like the late Macbeth, the cat i' the adage, and numerous other + celebrities. She evidently had plenty of remarks to make on the subject in + hand, but refrained from motives of prudence. + </p> + <p> + Charteris had no such scruples. The feeling of fatigue that had been upon + him had vanished, and his temper, which had been growing steadily worse + for some twenty minutes, now boiled over gleefully at the prospect of + something solid to work itself off upon. Even without a cause Charteris + detested the Rural Hooligan. Now that a real, copper-bottomed motive for + this dislike had been supplied to him, he felt himself capable of dealing + with a whole regiment of the breed. The criminal with the bicycle had just + let it fall with a crash to the ground when Charteris went for him low, in + the style which the Babe always insisted on seeing in members of the First + Fifteen on the football field, and hove him without comment into a damp + ditch. 'Charles his friend' uttered a shout of disapproval and rushed into + the fray. Charteris gave him the straight left, of the type to which the + great John Jackson is reported to have owed so much in the days of the old + Prize Ring, and Charles, taking it between the eyes, stopped in a + discouraged and discontented manner, and began to rub the place. Whereupon + Charteris dashed in, and, to use an expression suitable to the deed, + 'swung his right at the mark'. The 'mark', it may be explained for the + benefit of the non-pugilistic, is that portion of the anatomy which lies + hid behind the third button of the human waistcoat. It covers—in a + most inadequate way—the wind, and even a gentle tap in the locality + is apt to produce a fleeting sense of discomfort. A genuine flush hit on + the spot, shrewdly administered by a muscular arm with the weight of the + body behind it, causes the passive agent in the transaction to wish + fervently, as far as he is at the moment physically capable of wishing + anything, that he had never been born. 'Charles his friend' collapsed like + an empty sack, and Charteris, getting a grip of the outlying portions of + his costume, dragged him to the ditch and rolled him in on top of his + friend, who had just recovered sufficiently to be thinking about getting + out again. The pair of them lay there in a tangled heap. Charteris picked + up the bicycle and gave it a cursory examination. The enamel was a good + deal scratched, but no material damage had been done. He wheeled it across + to its owner. + </p> + <p> + 'It isn't much hurt,' he said, as they walked on slowly together. 'Bit + scratched, that's all.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks <i>awfully</i>,' said the small lady. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, not at all,' replied Charteris. 'I enjoyed it.' (He felt he had said + the right thing there. Your real hero always 'enjoys it'.) 'I'm sorry + those bargees frightened you.' + </p> + <p> + 'They did rather. But'—she added triumphantly after a pause—'I + didn't cry.' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather not,' said Charteris. 'You were awfully plucky. I noticed. But + hadn't you better ride on? Which way were you going?' + </p> + <p> + 'I wanted to get to Stapleton.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh. That's simple enough. You've merely got to go straight on down this + road, as straight as ever you can go. But, look here, you know, you + shouldn't be out alone like this. It isn't safe. Why did they let you?' + </p> + <p> + The lady avoided his eye. She bent down and inspected the left pedal. + </p> + <p> + 'They shouldn't have sent you out alone,' said Charteris, 'why did they?' + </p> + <p> + 'They—they didn't. I came.' + </p> + <p> + There was a world of meaning in the phrase. Charteris felt that he was in + the same case. They had not let <i>him</i>. He had come. Here was a + kindred spirit, another revolutionary soul, scorning the fetters of + convention and the so-called authority of self-constituted rules, aha! + Bureaucrats! + </p> + <p> + 'Shake hands,' he said, 'I'm in just the same way.' + </p> + <p> + They shook hands gravely. + </p> + <p> + 'You know,' said the lady, 'I'm awfully sorry I did it now. It was very + naughty.' + </p> + <p> + 'I'm not sorry yet,' said Charteris, 'I'm rather glad than otherwise. But + I expect I shall be sorry before long.' + </p> + <p> + 'Will you be sent to bed?' + </p> + <p> + 'I don't think so.' + </p> + <p> + 'Will you have to learn beastly poetry?' + </p> + <p> + 'Probably not.' + </p> + <p> + She looked at him curiously, as if to enquire, 'then if you won't have to + learn poetry and you won't get sent to bed, what on earth is there for you + to worry about?' + </p> + <p> + She would probably have gone on to investigate the problem further, but at + that moment there came the sound of a whistle. Then another, closer this + time. Then a faint rumbling, which increased in volume steadily. Charteris + looked back. The railway line ran by the side of the road. He could see + the smoke of a train through the trees. It was quite close now, and coming + closer every minute, and he was still quite a hundred and fifty yards from + the station gates. + </p> + <p> + 'I say,' he cried. 'Great Scott, here comes my train. I must rush. + Good-bye. You keep straight on.' + </p> + <p> + His legs had had time to grow stiff again. For the first few strides + running was painful. But his joints soon adapted themselves to the strain, + and in ten seconds he was sprinting as fast as he had ever sprinted off + the running-track. When he had travelled a quarter of the distance the + small cyclist overtook him. + </p> + <p> + 'Be quick,' she said, 'it's just in sight.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris quickened his stride, and, paced by the bicycle, spun along in + fine style. Forty yards from the station the train passed him. He saw it + roll into the station. There were still twenty yards to go, exclusive of + the station's steps, and he was already running as fast as it lay in him + to run. Now there were only ten. Now five. And at last, with a hurried + farewell to his companion, he bounded up the steps and on to the platform. + At the end of the platform the line took a sharp curve to the left. Round + that curve the tail end of the guard's van was just disappearing. + </p> + <p> + 'Missed it, sir,' said the solitary porter, who managed things at Rutton, + cheerfully. He spoke as if he was congratulating Charteris on having done + something remarkably clever. + </p> + <p> + 'When's the next?' panted Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'Eight-thirty,' was the porter's appalling reply. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Charteris felt quite ill. No train till eight-thirty! Then + was he indeed lost. But it couldn't be true. There must be some sort of a + train between now and then. + </p> + <p> + 'Are you certain?' he said. 'Surely there's a train before that?' + </p> + <p> + 'Why, yes, sir,' said the porter gleefully, 'but they be all exprusses. + Eight-thirty be the only 'un what starps at Rootton.' + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +'Thanks,' said Charteris with marked gloom, 'I don't think that'll be +much good to me. My aunt, what a hole I'm in.' + + The porter made a sympathetic and interrogative noise at the back of +his throat, as if inviting him to explain everything. But Charteris +felt unequal to conversation. There are moments when one wants to be +alone. He went down the steps again. When he got out into the road, his +small cycling friend had vanished. Charteris was conscious of a feeling +of envy towards her. She was doing the journey comfortably on a +bicycle. He would have to walk it. Walk it! He didn't believe he could. +The strangers' mile, followed by the Homeric combat with the two +Hooligans and that ghastly sprint to wind up with, had left him +decidedly unfit for further feats of pedestrianism. And it was eight +miles to Stapleton, if it was a yard, and another mile from Stapleton +to St Austin's. Charteris, having once more invoked the name of his +aunt, pulled himself together with an effort, and limped gallantly on +in the direction of Stapleton. But fate, so long hostile to him, at +last relented. A rattle of wheels approached him from behind. A thrill +of hope shot through him at the sound. There was the prospect of a +lift. He stopped, and waited for the dog-cart—it sounded like a +dog-cart—to arrive. Then he uttered a shout of rapture, and began to +wave his arms like a semaphore. The man in the dog-cart was Dr Adamson. +</pre> + <p> + 'Hullo, Charteris,' said the Doctor, pulling up his horse, 'what are you + doing here?' + </p> + <p> + 'Give me a lift,' said Charteris, 'and I'll tell you. It's a long yarn. + Can I get in?' + </p> + <p> + 'Come along. Plenty of room.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris climbed up, and sank on to the cushioned seat with a sigh of + pleasure. What glorious comfort. He had never enjoyed anything more in his + life. + </p> + <p> + 'I'm nearly dead,' he said, as the dog-cart went on again. 'This is how it + all happened. You see, it was this way—' + </p> + <p> + And he embarked forthwith upon his narrative. + </p> + <p> + <i>Chapter 6</i> + </p> + <p> + By special request the Doctor dropped Charteris within a hundred yards of + Merevale's door. + </p> + <p> + 'Good-night,' he said. 'I don't suppose you will value my advice at all, + but you may have it for what it is worth. I recommend you stop this sort + of game. Next time something will happen.' + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove, yes,' said Charteris, climbing painfully down from the dog-cart, + 'I'll take that advice. I'm a reformed character from this day onwards. + This sort of thing isn't good enough. Hullo, there's the bell for lock-up. + Good-night, Doctor, and thanks most awfully for the lift. It was + frightfully kind of you.' + </p> + <p> + 'Don't mention it,' said Dr Adamson, 'it is always a privilege to be in + your company. When are you coming to tea with me again?' + </p> + <p> + 'Whenever you'll have me. I must get leave, though, this time.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes. By the way, how's Graham? It is Graham, isn't it? The fellow who + broke his collar-bone?' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, he's getting on splendidly. Still in a sling, but it's almost well + again now. But I must be off. Good-night.' + </p> + <p> + 'Good-night. Come to tea next Monday.' + </p> + <p> + 'Right,' said Charteris; 'thanks awfully.' + </p> + <p> + He hobbled in at Merevale's gate, and went up to his study. The Babe was + in there talking to Welch. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo,' said the Babe, 'here's Charteris.' + </p> + <p> + 'What's left of him,' said Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'How did it go off?' + </p> + <p> + 'Don't, please.' + </p> + <p> + 'Did you win?' asked Welch. + </p> + <p> + 'No. Second. By a yard. Oh, Lord, I am dead.' + </p> + <p> + 'Hot race?' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather. It wasn't that, though. I had to sprint all the way to the + station, and missed my train by ten seconds at the end of it all.' + </p> + <p> + 'Then how did you get here?' + </p> + <p> + 'That was the one stroke of luck I've had this afternoon. I started to + walk back, and after I'd gone about a quarter of a mile, Adamson caught me + up in his dog-cart. I suggested that it would be a Christian act on his + part to give me a lift, and he did. I shall remember Adamson in my will.' + </p> + <p> + 'Tell us what happened.' + </p> + <p> + 'I'll tell thee everything I can,' said Charteris. 'There's little to + relate. I saw an aged, aged man a-sitting on a gate. Where do you want me + to begin?' + </p> + <p> + 'At the beginning. Don't rot.' + </p> + <p> + 'I was born,' began Charteris, 'of poor but honest parents, who sent me to + school at an early age in order that I might acquire a grasp of the Greek + and Latin languages, now obsolete. I—' + </p> + <p> + 'How did you lose?' enquired the Babe. + </p> + <p> + 'The other man beat me. If he hadn't, I should have won hands down. Oh, I + say, guess who I met at Rutton.' + </p> + <p> + 'Not a beak?' + </p> + <p> + 'No. Almost as bad, though. The Bargee man who paced me from Stapleton. + Man who crocked Tony.' + </p> + <p> + 'Great <i>Scott</i>!' cried the Babe. 'Did he recognize you?' + </p> + <p> + 'Rather. We had a very pleasant conversation.' + </p> + <p> + 'If he reports you,' began the Babe. + </p> + <p> + 'Who's that?' + </p> + <p> + Charteris looked up. Tony Graham had entered the study. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo, Tony! Adamson told me to remember him to you.' + </p> + <p> + 'So you've got back?' + </p> + <p> + Charteris confirmed the hasty guess. + </p> + <p> + 'But what are you talking about, Babe?' said Tony. 'Who's going to be + reported, and who's going to report?' + </p> + <p> + The Babe briefly explained the situation. + </p> + <p> + 'If the man,' he said, 'reports Charteris, he may get run in tomorrow, and + then we shall have both our halves away against Dacre's. Charteris, you + are a fool to go rotting about out of bounds like this.' + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, dry the starting tear,' said Charteris cheerfully. 'In the first + place, I shouldn't get kept in on a Thursday anyhow. I should be shoved + into extra on Saturday. Also, I shrewdly conveyed to the Bargee the + impression that I was at Rutton by special permission.' + </p> + <p> + 'He's bound to know that that can't be true,' said Tony. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, I told him to think it over. You see, he got so badly left last + time he tried to compass my downfall, that I shouldn't be a bit surprised + if he let the job alone this journey.' + </p> + <p> + 'Let's hope so,' said the Babe gloomily. + </p> + <p> + 'That's right, Babby,' remarked Charteris encouragingly, nodding at the + pessimist. + </p> + <p> + 'You buck up and keep looking on the bright side. It'll be all right. You + see if it won't. If there's any running in to be done, I shall do it. I + shall be frightfully fit tomorrow after all this dashing about today. I + haven't an ounce of superfluous flesh on me. I'm a fine, strapping + specimen of sturdy young English manhood. And I'm going to play a <i>very</i> + selfish game tomorrow, Babe.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, my dear chap, you mustn't.' The Babe's face wore an expression of + horror. The success of the House-team in the final was very near to his + heart. He could not understand anyone jesting on the subject. Charteris + respected his anguish, and relieved it speedily. + </p> + <p> + 'I was only ragging,' he said. 'Considering that our three-quarter line is + our one strong point, I'm not likely to keep the ball from it, if I get a + chance of getting it out. Make your mind easy, Babe.' + </p> + <p> + The final House-match was always a warmish game. The rivalry between the + various Houses was great, and the football cup especially was fought for + with immense keenness. Also, the match was the last fixture of the season, + and there was a certain feeling in the teams that if they <i>did</i> + happen to disable a man or two, it would not matter much. The injured + sportsman would not be needed for School-match purposes for another six + months. As a result of which philosophical reflection, the tackling was + ruled slightly energetic, and the handing-off was done with vigour. + </p> + <p> + This year, to add a sort of finishing touch, there was just a little + ill-feeling between Dacre's and Merevale's. The cause of it was the Babe. + Until the beginning of the term he had been a day boy. Then the news began + to circulate that he was going to become a boarder, either at Dacre's or + at Merevale's. He chose the latter, and Dacre's felt slightly aggrieved. + Some of the less sportsmanlike members of the House had proposed that a + protest should be made against his being allowed to play, but, fortunately + for the credit of Dacre's, Prescott, the captain of the House Fifteen, had + put his foot down with an emphatic bang at the suggestion. As he sagely + pointed out, there were some things which were bad form, and this was one + of them. If the team wanted to express their disapproval, said he, let + them do it on the field by tackling their very hardest. He personally was + going to do his best, and he advised them to do the same. + </p> + <p> + The rumour of this bad blood had got about the School in some mysterious + manner, and when Swift, Merevale's only First Fifteen forward, kicked off + up the hill, a large crowd was lining the ropes. It was evident from the + outset that it would be a good game. + </p> + <p> + Dacre's were the better side—as a team. They had no really weak + spot. But Merevale's extraordinarily strong three-quarter line somewhat + made up for an inferior scrum. And the fact that the Babe was in the + centre was worth much. + </p> + <p> + At first Dacre's pressed. Their pack was unusually heavy for a House-team, + and they made full use of it. They took the ball down the field in short + rushes till they were in Merevale's twenty-five. Then they began to heel, + and, if things had been more or less exciting for the Merevalians before, + they became doubly so now. The ground was dry, and so was the ball, and + the game consequently waxed fast. Time after time the ball went along + Dacre's three-quarter line, only to end by finding itself hurled, with the + wing who was carrying it, into touch. Occasionally the centres, instead of + feeding their wings, would try to dodge through themselves. And that was + where the Babe came in. He was admittedly the best tackler in the School, + but on this occasion he excelled himself. His man never had a chance of + getting past. At last a lofty kick into touch over the heads of the + spectators gave the players a few seconds' rest. + </p> + <p> + The Babe went up to Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'Look here,' he said, 'it's risky, but I think we'll try having the ball + out a bit.' + </p> + <p> + 'In our own twenty-five?' said Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'Wherever we are. I believe it will come off all right. Anyway, we'll try + it. Tell the forwards.' + </p> + <p> + For forwards playing against a pack much heavier than themselves, it is + easier to talk about letting the ball out than to do it. The first half + dozen times that Merevale's scrum tried to heel they were shoved off their + feet, and it was on the enemy's side that the ball went out. But the + seventh attempt succeeded. Out it came, cleanly and speedily. Daintree, + who was playing instead of Tony, switched it across to Charteris. + Charteris dodged the half who was marking him, and ran. Heeling and + passing in one's own twenty-five is like smoking—an excellent + practice if indulged in in moderation. On this occasion it answered + perfectly. Charteris ran to the half-way line, and handed the ball on to + the Babe. The Babe was tackled from behind, and passed to Thomson. Thomson + dodged his man, and passed to Welch on the wing. Welch was the fastest + sprinter in the School. It was a pleasure—if you did not happen to + be one of the opposing side—to see him race down the touch-line. He + was off like an arrow. Dacre's back made a futile attempt to get at him. + Welch could have given the back fifteen yards in a hundred. He ran round + him, and, amidst terrific applause from the Merevale's-supporting section + of the audience, scored between the posts. The Babe took the kick and + converted without difficulty. Five minutes afterwards the whistle blew for + half-time. + </p> + <p> + The remainder of the game does not call for detailed description. Dacre's + pressed nearly the whole of the last half hour, but twice more the ball + came out and went down Merevale's three-quarter line. Once it was the Babe + who scored with a run from his own goal-line, and once Charteris, who got + in from half-way, dodging through the whole team. The last ten minutes of + the game was marked by a slight excess of energy on both sides. Dacre's + forwards were in a decidedly bad temper, and fought like tigers to break + through, and Merevale's played up to them with spirit. The Babe seemed + continually to be precipitating himself at the feet of rushing forwards, + and Charteris felt as if at least a dozen bones were broken in various + portions of his anatomy. The game ended on Merevale's line, but they had + won the match and the cup by two goals and a try to nothing. + </p> + <p> + Charteris limped off the field, cheerful but damaged. He ached all over, + and there was a large bruise on his left cheek-bone. He and Babe were + going to the House, when they were aware that the Headmaster was beckoning + to them. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, MacArthur, and what was the result of the match?' + </p> + <p> + 'We won, sir,' boomed the Babe. 'Two goals and a try to <i>nil</i>.' + </p> + <p> + 'You have hurt your cheek, Charteris?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'How did you do that?' + </p> + <p> + 'I got a kick, sir, in one of the rushes.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah. I should bathe it, Charteris. Bathe it well. I hope it will not be + very painful. Bathe it well in warm water.' + </p> + <p> + He walked on. + </p> + <p> + 'You know,' said Charteris to the Babe, as they went into the House, 'the + Old Man isn't such a bad sort after all. He has his points, don't you + think?' + </p> + <p> + The Babe said that he did. + </p> + <p> + 'I'm going to reform, you know,' continued Charteris confidentially. + </p> + <p> + 'It's about time,' said the Babe. 'You can have the bath first if you + like. Only buck up.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris boiled himself for ten minutes, and then dragged his weary limbs + to his study. It was while he was sitting in a deck-chair eating mixed + biscuits, and wondering if he would ever be able to summon up sufficient + energy to put on garments of civilization, that somebody knocked at the + door. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' shouted Charteris. 'What is it? Don't come in. I'm changing.' + </p> + <p> + The melodious treble of Master Crowinshaw, his fag, made itself heard + through the keyhole. + </p> + <p> + 'The Head told me to tell you that he wanted to see you at the School + House as soon as you can go.' + </p> + <p> + 'All right,' shouted Charteris. 'Thanks.' + </p> + <p> + 'Now what,' he continued to himself, 'does the Old Man want to see me for? + Perhaps he wants to make certain that I've bathed my cheek in warm water. + Anyhow, I suppose I must go.' + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later he presented himself at the Headmagisterial + door. The sedate Parker, the Head's butler, who always filled Charteris + with a desire to dig him hard in the ribs just to see what would happen, + ushered him into the study. + </p> + <p> + The Headmaster was reading by the light of a lamp when Charteris came in. + He laid down his book, and motioned him to a seat; after which there was + an awkward pause. + </p> + <p> + 'I have just received,' began the Head at last, 'a most unpleasant + communication. Most unpleasant. From whom it comes I do not know. It is, + in fact—er—anonymous. I am sorry that I ever read it.' + </p> + <p> + He stopped. Charteris made no comment. He guessed what was coming. He, + too, was sorry that the Head had ever read the letter. + </p> + <p> + 'The writer says that he saw you, that he actually spoke to you, at the + athletic sports at Rutton yesterday. I have called you in to tell me if + that is true.' The Head fastened an accusing eye on his companion. + </p> + <p> + 'It is quite true, sir,' said Charteris steadily. + </p> + <p> + 'What!' said the Head sharply. 'You were at Rutton?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'You were perfectly aware, I suppose, that you were breaking the School + rules by going there, Charteris?' enquired the Head in a cold voice. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir.' There was another pause. + </p> + <p> + 'This is very serious,' began the Head. 'I cannot overlook this. I—' + </p> + <p> + There was a slight scuffle of feet in the passage outside. The door flew + open vigorously, and a young lady entered. It was, as Charteris recognized + in a minute, his acquaintance of the afternoon, the young lady of the + bicycle. + </p> + <p> + 'Uncle,' she said, 'have you seen my book anywhere?' + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo!' she broke off as her eye fell on Charteris. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo!' said Charteris, affably, not to be outdone in the courtesies. + </p> + <p> + 'Did you catch your train?' + </p> + <p> + 'No. Missed it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo! what's the matter with your cheek?' + </p> + <p> + 'I got a kick on it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, does it hurt?' + </p> + <p> + 'Not much, thanks.' + </p> + <p> + Here the Head, feeling perhaps a little out of it, put in his oar. + </p> + <p> + 'Dorothy, you must not come here now. I am busy. And how, may I ask, do + you and Charteris come to be acquainted?' + </p> + <p> + 'Why, he's him,' said Dorothy lucidly. + </p> + <p> + The Head looked puzzled. + </p> + <p> + 'Him. The chap, you know.' + </p> + <p> + It is greatly to the Head's credit that he grasped the meaning of these + words. Long study of the classics had quickened his faculty for seeing + sense in passages where there was none. The situation dawned upon him. + </p> + <p> + 'Do you mean to tell me, Dorothy, that it was Charteris who came to your + assistance yesterday?' + </p> + <p> + Dorothy nodded energetically. + </p> + <p> + 'He gave the men beans,' she said. 'He did, really,' she went on, + regardless of the Head's look of horror. 'He used right and left with + considerable effect.' + </p> + <p> + Dorothy's brother, a keen follower of the Ring, had been good enough some + days before to read her out an extract from an account in <i>The Sportsman</i> + of a match at the National Sporting Club, and the account had been much to + her liking. She regarded it as a masterpiece of English composition. + </p> + <p> + 'Dorothy,' said the Headmaster, 'run away to bed.' A suggestion which she + treated with scorn, it wanting a clear two hours to her legal bedtime. 'I + must speak to your mother about your deplorable habit of using slang. Dear + me, I must certainly speak to her.' + </p> + <p> + And, shamefully unabashed, Dorothy retired. + </p> + <p> + The Head was silent for a few minutes after she had gone; then he turned + to Charteris again. + </p> + <p> + 'In consideration of this, Charteris, I shall—er—mitigate + slightly the punishment I had intended to give you.' + </p> + <p> + Charteris murmured his gratification. + </p> + <p> + 'But,' continued the Head sternly, 'I cannot overlook the offence. I have + my duty to consider. You will therefore write me—er—ten lines + of Virgil by tomorrow evening, Charteris.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'Latin <i>and</i> English,' said the relentless pedagogue. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'And, Charteris—I am speaking now—er—unofficially, not + as a headmaster, you understand—if in future you would cease to + break School rules simply as a matter of principle, for that, I fancy, is + what it amounts to, I—er—well, I think we should get on better + together. And that is, on my part at least, a consummation—er—devoutly + to be wished. Good-night, Charteris.' + </p> + <p> + 'Good-night, sir.' + </p> + <p> + The Head extended a large hand. Charteris took it, and his departure. + </p> + <p> + The Headmaster opened his book again, and turned over a new leaf. + Charteris at the same moment, walking slowly in the direction of + Merevale's, was resolving for the future to do the very same thing. And he + did. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 9 — HOW PAYNE BUCKED UP + </h2> + <p> + It was Walkinshaw's affair from the first. Grey, the captain of the St + Austin's Fifteen, was in the infirmary nursing a bad knee. To him came + Charles Augustus Walkinshaw with a scheme. Walkinshaw was football + secretary, and in Grey's absence acted as captain. Besides these two there + were only a couple of last year's team left—Reade and Barrett, both + of Philpott's House. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo, Grey, how's the knee?' said Walkinshaw. + </p> + <p> + 'How's the team getting on?' he said. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, as far as I can see,' said Walkinshaw, 'we ought to have a rather + good season, if you'd only hurry up and come back. We beat a jolly hot lot + of All Comers yesterday. Smith was playing for them. The Blue, you know. + And lots of others. We got a goal and a try to <i>nil</i>.' + </p> + <p> + 'Good,' said Grey. 'Who did anything for us? Who scored?' + </p> + <p> + 'I got in once. Payne got the other.' + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove, did he? What sort of a game is he playing this year?' + </p> + <p> + The moment had come for Walkinshaw to unburden himself to his scheme. He + proceeded to do so. + </p> + <p> + 'Not up to much,' he said. 'Look here, Grey, I've got rather an idea. It's + my opinion Payne's not bucking up nearly as much as he might. Do you mind + if I leave him out of the next game?' + </p> + <p> + Grey stared. The idea was revolutionary. + </p> + <p> + 'What! Leave him out? My good man, he'll be the next chap to get his + colours. He's a cert. for his cap.' + </p> + <p> + 'That's just it. He knows he's a cert., and he's slacking on the strength + of it. Now, my idea is that if you slung him out for a match or two, he'd + buck up extra hard when he came into the team again. Can't I have a shot + at it?' + </p> + <p> + Grey weighed the matter. Walkinshaw pressed home his arguments. + </p> + <p> + 'You see, it isn't like cricket. At cricket, of course, it might put a + chap off awfully to be left out, but I don't see how it can hurt a man's + play at footer. Besides, he's beginning to stick on side already.' + </p> + <p> + 'Is he, by Jove?' said Grey. This was the unpardonable sin. 'Well, I'll + tell you what you can do if you like. Get up a scratch game, First Fifteen + <i>v.</i> Second, and make him captain of the Second.' + </p> + <p> + 'Right,' said Walkinshaw, and retired beaming. + </p> + <p> + Walkinshaw, it may be remarked at once, to prevent mistakes, was a + well-meaning idiot. There was no doubt about his being well-meaning. Also, + there was no doubt about his being an idiot. He was continually getting + insane ideas into his head, and being unable to get them out again. This + matter of Payne was a good example of his customary methods. He had put + his hand on the one really first-class forward St Austin's possessed, and + proposed to remove him from the team. And yet through it all he was + perfectly well-meaning. The fact that personally he rather disliked Payne + had, to do him justice, no weight at all with him. He would have done the + same by his bosom friend under like circumstances. This is the only excuse + that can be offered for him. It was true that Payne regarded himself as a + certainty for his colours, as far as anything can be considered certain in + this vale of sorrow. But to accuse him of trading on this, and, to use the + vernacular, of putting on side, was unjust to a degree. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon following this conversation Payne, who was a member of + Dacre's House, came into his study and banged his books down on the table + with much emphasis. This was a sign that he was feeling dissatisfied with + the way in which affairs were conducted in the world. Bowden, who was + asleep in an armchair—he had been staying in with a cold—woke + with a start. Bowden shared Payne's study. He played centre three-quarter + for the Second Fifteen. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo!' he said. + </p> + <p> + Payne grunted. Bowden realized that matters had not been going well with + him. He attempted to soothe him with conversation, choosing what he + thought would be a congenial topic. + </p> + <p> + 'What's on on Saturday?' he asked. + </p> + <p> + 'Scratch game. First <i>v.</i> Second.' + </p> + <p> + Bowden groaned. + </p> + <p> + 'I know those First <i>v.</i> Second games,' he said. 'They turn the + Second out to get butchered for thirty-five minutes each way, to improve + the First's combination. It may be fun for the First, but it's not nearly + so rollicking for us. Look here, Payne, if you find me with the pill at + any time, you can let me down easy, you know. You needn't go bringing off + any of your beastly gallery tackles.' + </p> + <p> + 'I won't,' said Payne. 'To start with, it would be against rules. We + happen to be on the same side.' + </p> + <p> + 'Rot, man; I'm not playing for the First.' This was the only explanation + that occurred to him. + </p> + <p> + 'I'm playing for the Second.' + </p> + <p> + 'What! Are you certain?' + </p> + <p> + 'I've seen the list. They're playing Babington instead of me.' + </p> + <p> + 'But why? Babington's no good.' + </p> + <p> + 'I think they have a sort of idea I'm slacking or something. At any rate, + Walkinshaw told me that if I bucked up I might get tried again.' + </p> + <p> + 'Silly goat,' said Bowden. 'What are you going to do?' + </p> + <p> + 'I'm going to take his advice, and buck up.' + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p> + He did. At the beginning of the game the ropes were lined by some thirty + spectators, who had come to derive a languid enjoyment from seeing the + First pile up a record score. By half-time their numbers had risen to an + excited mob of something over three hundred, and the second half of the + game was fought out to the accompaniment of a storm of yells and counter + yells such as usually only belonged to school-matches. The Second Fifteen, + after a poor start, suddenly awoke to the fact that this was not going to + be the conventional massacre by any means. The First had scored an + unconverted try five minutes after the kick-off, and it was after this + that the Second began to get together. The school back bungled the drop + out badly, and had to find touch in his own twenty-five, and after that it + was anyone's game. The scrums were a treat to behold. Payne was a monument + of strength. Time after time the Second had the ball out to their + three-quarters, and just after half-time Bowden slipped through in the + corner. The kick failed, and the two teams, with their scores equal now, + settled down grimly to fight the thing out to a finish. But though they + remained on their opponents' line for most of the rest of the game, the + Second did not add to their score, and the match ended in a draw of three + points all. + </p> + <p> + The first intimation Grey received of this came to him late in the + evening. He had been reading a novel which, whatever its other merits may + have been, was not interesting, and it had sent him to sleep. He awoke to + hear a well-known voice observe with some unction: 'Ah! M'yes. Leeches and + hot fomentations.' This effectually banished sleep. If there were two + things in the world that he loathed, they were leeches and hot + fomentations, and the School doctor apparently regarded them as a panacea + for every kind of bodily ailment, from a fractured skull to a cold in the + head. It was this gentleman who had just spoken, but Grey's alarm vanished + as he perceived that the words had no personal application to himself. The + object of the remark was a fellow-sufferer in the next bed but one. Now + Grey was certain that when he had fallen asleep there had been nobody in + that bed. When, therefore, the medical expert had departed on his fell + errand, the quest of leeches and hot fomentations, he sat up and gave + tongue. + </p> + <p> + 'Who's that in that bed?' he asked. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo, Grey,' replied a voice. 'Didn't know you were awake. I've come to + keep you company.' + </p> + <p> + 'That you, Barrett? What's up with you?' + </p> + <p> + 'Collar-bone. Dislocated it or something. Reade's over in that corner. He + has bust his ankle. Oh, yes, we've been having a nice, cheery afternoon,' + concluded Barrett bitterly. + </p> + <p> + 'Great Scott! How did it happen?' + </p> + <p> + 'Payne.' + </p> + <p> + 'Where? In your collar-bone?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes. That wasn't what I meant, though. What I was explaining was that + Payne got hold of me in the middle of the field, and threw me into touch. + After which he fell on me. That was enough for my simple needs. I'm not + grasping.' + </p> + <p> + 'How about Reade?' + </p> + <p> + 'The entire Second scrum collapsed on top of Reade. When we dug him out + his ankle was crocked. Mainspring gone, probably. Then they gathered up + the pieces and took them gently away. I don't know how it all ended.' + </p> + <p> + Just then Walkinshaw burst into the room. He had a large bruise over one + eye, his arm was in a sling, and he limped. But he was in excellent + spirits. + </p> + <p> + 'I knew I was right, by Jove,' he observed to Grey. 'I knew he could buck + up if he liked.' + </p> + <p> + 'I know it now,' said Barrett. + </p> + <p> + 'Who's this you're talking about?' said Grey. + </p> + <p> + 'Payne. I've never seen anything like the game he played today. He was + everywhere. And, by Jove, his <i>tackling</i>!' + </p> + <p> + 'Don't,' said Barrett, wearily. + </p> + <p> + 'It's the best match I ever played in,' said Walkinshaw, bubbling over + with enthusiasm. 'Do you know, the Second had all the best of the game.' + </p> + <p> + 'What was the score?' + </p> + <p> + 'Draw. One try all.' + </p> + <p> + 'And now I suppose you're satisfied?' enquired Barrett. The great scheme + for the regeneration of Payne had been confided to him by its proud + patentee. + </p> + <p> + 'Almost,' said Walkinshaw. 'We'll continue the treatment for one more + game, and then we'll have him simply fizzing for the Windybury match. + That's next Saturday. By the way, I'm afraid you'll hardly be fit again in + time for that, Barrett, will you?' + </p> + <p> + 'I may possibly,' said Barrett, coldly, 'be getting about again in time + for the Windybury match of the year after next. This year I'm afraid I + shall not have the pleasure. And I should strongly advise you, if you + don't want to have to put a team of cripples into the field, to + discontinue the treatment, as you call it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, I don't know,' said Walkinshaw. + </p> + <p> + On the following Wednesday evening, at five o'clock, something was carried + in on a stretcher, and deposited in the bed which lay between Grey and + Barrett. Close scrutiny revealed the fact that it was what had once been + Charles Augustus Walkinshaw. He was slightly broken up. + </p> + <p> + 'Payne?' enquired Grey in chilly tones. + </p> + <p> + Walkinshaw admitted the impeachment. + </p> + <p> + Grey took a pencil and a piece of paper from the table at his side. 'If + you want to know what I'm doing,' he said, 'I'm writing out the team for + the Windybury match, and I'm going to make Payne captain, as the senior + Second Fifteen man. And if we win I'm jolly well going to give him his cap + after the match. If we don't win, it'll be the fault of a raving lunatic + of the name of Walkinshaw, with his beastly Colney Hatch schemes for + reforming slack forwards. You utter rotter!' + </p> + <p> + Fortunately for the future peace of mind of C. A. Walkinshaw, the latter + contingency did not occur. The School, in spite of its absentees, + contrived to pull the match off by a try to <i>nil</i>. Payne, as was only + right and proper, scored the try, making his way through the ranks of the + visiting team with the quiet persistence of a steam-roller. After the game + he came to tea, by request, at the infirmary, and was straightaway + invested by Grey with his First Fifteen colours. On his arrival he + surveyed the invalids with interest. + </p> + <p> + 'Rough game, footer,' he observed at length. + </p> + <p> + 'Don't mention it,' said Barrett politely. 'Leeches,' he added dreamily. + 'Leeches and hot fomentations. <i>Boiling</i> fomentations. Will somebody + kindly murder Walkinshaw!' + </p> + <p> + 'Why?' asked Payne, innocently. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 10 — AUTHOR! + </h2> + <p> + J. S. M. Babington, of Dacre's House, was on the horns of a dilemma. + Circumstances over which he had had no control had brought him, like + another Hercules, to the cross-roads, and had put before him the choice + between pleasure and duty, or, rather, between pleasure and what those in + authority called duty. Being human, he would have had little difficulty in + making his decision, had not the path of pleasure been so hedged about by + danger as to make him doubt whether after all the thing could be carried + through. + </p> + <p> + The facts in the case were these. It was the custom of the mathematical + set to which J. S. M. Babington belonged, 4B to wit, to relieve the tedium + of the daily lesson with a species of round game which was played as + follows. As soon as the master had taken his seat, one of the players + would execute a manoeuvre calculated to draw attention on himself, such as + dropping a book or upsetting the blackboard. Called up to the desk to give + explanation, he would embark on an eloquent speech for the defence. This + was the cue for the next player to begin. His part consisted in making his + way to the desk and testifying to the moral excellence of his companion, + and giving in full the reasons why he should be discharged without a stain + upon his character. As soon as he had warmed to his work he would be + followed by a third player, and so on until the standing room around the + desk was completely filled with a great cloud of witnesses. The duration + of the game varied, of course, considerably. On some occasions it could be + played through with such success, that the master would enter into the + spirit of the thing, and do his best to book the names of all offenders at + one and the same time, a feat of no inconsiderable difficulty. At other + times matters would come to a head more rapidly. In any case, much + innocent fun was to be derived from it, and its popularity was great. On + the day, however, on which this story opens, a new master had been + temporarily loosed into the room in place of the Rev. Septimus Brown, who + had been there as long as the oldest inhabitant could remember. The Rev. + Septimus was a wrangler, but knew nothing of the ways of the human boy. + His successor, Mr Reginald Seymour, was a poor mathematician, but a good + master. He had been, moreover, a Cambridge Rugger Blue. This fact alone + should have ensured him against the customary pleasantries, for a Blue is + a man to be respected. It was not only injudicious, therefore, but + positively wrong of Babington to plunge against the blackboard on his way + to his place. If he had been a student of Tennyson, he might have + remembered that the old order is in the habit of changing and yielding + place to the new. + </p> + <p> + Mr Seymour looked thoughtfully for a moment at the blackboard. + </p> + <p> + 'That was rather a crude effort,' he said pleasantly to Babington, 'you + lack <i>finesse</i>. Pick it up again, please.' + </p> + <p> + Babington picked it up without protest. Under the rule of the Rev. + Septimus this would have been the signal for the rest of the class to + leave their places and assist him, but now they seemed to realize that + there was a time for everything, and that this was decidedly no time for + indoor games. + </p> + <p> + 'Thank you,' said Mr Seymour, when the board was in its place again. 'What + is your name? Eh, what? I didn't quite hear.' + </p> + <p> + 'Babington, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah. You had better come in tomorrow at two and work out examples three + hundred to three-twenty in "Hall and Knight". There is really plenty of + room to walk in between that desk and the blackboard. It only wants + practice.' + </p> + <p> + What was left of Babington then went to his seat. He felt that his + reputation as an artistic player of the game had received a shattering + blow. Then there was the imposition. This in itself would have troubled + him little. To be kept in on a half-holiday is annoying, but it is one of + those ills which the flesh is heir to, and your true philosopher can + always take his gruel like a man. + </p> + <p> + But it so happened that by the evening post he had received a letter from + a cousin of his, who was a student at Guy's, and from all accounts was + building up a great reputation in the medical world. From this letter it + appeared that by a complicated process of knowing people who knew other + people who had influence with the management, he had contrived to obtain + two tickets for a morning performance of the new piece that had just been + produced at one of the theatres. And if Mr J. S. M. Babington wished to + avail himself of the opportunity, would he write by return, and be at + Charing Cross Underground bookstall at twenty past two. + </p> + <p> + Now Babington, though he objected strongly to the drama of ancient Greece, + was very fond of that of the present day, and he registered a vow that if + the matter could possibly be carried through, it should be. His choice was + obvious. He could cut his engagement with Mr Seymour, or he could keep it. + The difficulty lay rather in deciding upon one or other of the + alternatives. The whole thing turned upon the extent of the penalty in the + event of detection. + </p> + <p> + That was his dilemma. He sought advice. + </p> + <p> + 'I should risk it,' said his bosom friend Peterson. + </p> + <p> + 'I shouldn't advise you to,' remarked Jenkins. + </p> + <p> + Jenkins was equally a bosom friend, and in the matter of wisdom in no way + inferior to Peterson. + </p> + <p> + 'What would happen, do you think?' asked Babington. + </p> + <p> + 'Sack,' said one authority. + </p> + <p> + 'Jaw, and double impot,' said another. + </p> + <p> + 'The <i>Daily Telegraph</i>,' muttered the tempter in a stage aside, + 'calls it the best comedy since Sheridan.' + </p> + <p> + 'So it does,' thought Babington. 'I'll risk it.' + </p> + <p> + 'You'll be a fool if you do,' croaked the gloomy Jenkins. 'You're bound to + be caught.' But the Ayes had it. Babington wrote off that night accepting + the invitation. + </p> + <p> + It was with feelings of distinct relief that he heard Mr Seymour express + to another master his intention of catching the twelve-fifteen train up to + town. It meant that he would not be on the scene to see him start on the + 'Hall and Knight'. Unless luck were very much against him, Babington might + reasonably hope that he would accept the imposition without any questions. + He had taken the precaution to get the examples finished overnight, with + the help of Peterson and Jenkins, aided by a weird being who actually + appeared to like algebra, and turned out ten of the twenty problems in an + incredibly short time in exchange for a couple of works of fiction (down) + and a tea (at a date). He himself meant to catch the one-thirty, which + would bring him to town in good time. Peterson had promised to answer his + name at roll-call, a delicate operation, in which long practice had made + him, like many others of the junior members of the House, no mean + proficient. + </p> + <p> + It would be pleasant for a conscientious historian to be able to say that + the one-thirty broke down just outside Victoria, and that Babington + arrived at the theatre at the precise moment when the curtain fell and the + gratified audience began to stream out. But truth, though it crush me. The + one-thirty was so punctual that one might have thought that it belonged to + a line other than the line to which it did belong. From Victoria to + Charing Cross is a journey that occupies no considerable time, and + Babington found himself at his destination with five minutes to wait. At + twenty past his cousin arrived, and they made their way to the theatre. A + brief skirmish with a liveried menial in the lobby, and they were in their + seats. + </p> + <p> + Some philosopher, of extraordinary powers of intuition, once informed the + world that the best of things come at last to an end. The statement was + tested, and is now universally accepted as correct. To apply the general + to the particular, the play came to an end amidst uproarious applause, to + which Babington contributed an unstinted quotum, about three hours after + it had begun. + </p> + <p> + 'What do you say to going and grubbing somewhere?' asked Babington's + cousin, as they made their way out. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo, there's that man Richards,' he continued, before Babington could + reply that of all possible actions he considered that of going and + grubbing somewhere the most desirable. 'Fellow I know at Guy's, you know,' + he added, in explanation. 'I'll get him to join us. You'll like him, I + expect.' + </p> + <p> + Richards professed himself delighted, and shook hands with Babington with + a fervour which seemed to imply that until he had met him life had been a + dreary blank, but that now he could begin to enjoy himself again. 'I + should like to join you, if you don't mind including a friend of mine in + the party,' said Richards. 'He was to meet me here. By the way, he's the + author of that new piece—<i>The Way of the World.'</i> + </p> + <p> + 'Why, we've just been there.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, then you will probably like to meet him. Here he is.' + </p> + <p> + As he spoke a man came towards them, and, with a shock that sent all the + blood in his body to the very summit of his head, and then to the very + extremities of his boots, Babington recognized Mr Seymour. The assurance + of the programme that the play was by Walter Walsh was a fraud. Nay worse, + a downright and culpable lie. He started with the vague idea of making a + rush for safety, but before his paralysed limbs could be induced to work, + Mr Seymour had arrived, and he was being introduced (oh, the tragic irony + of it) to the man for whose benefit he was at that very moment supposed to + be working out examples three hundred to three-twenty in 'Hall and + Knight'. + </p> + <p> + Mr Seymour shook hands, without appearing to recognize him. Babington's + blood began to resume its normal position again, though he felt that this + seeming ignorance of his identity might be a mere veneer, a wile of guile, + as the bard puts it. He remembered, with a pang, a story in some magazine + where a prisoner was subjected to what the light-hearted inquisitors + called the torture of hope. He was allowed to escape from prison, and pass + guards and sentries apparently without their noticing him. Then, just as + he stepped into the open air, the chief inquisitor tapped him gently on + the shoulder, and, more in sorrow than in anger, reminded him that it was + customary for condemned men to remain <i>inside</i> their cells. Surely + this was a similar case. But then the thought came to him that Mr Seymour + had only seen him once, and so might possibly have failed to remember him, + for there was nothing special about Babington's features that arrested the + eye, and stamped them on the brain for all time. He was rather ordinary + than otherwise to look at. At tea, as bad luck would have it, the two sat + opposite one another, and Babington trembled. Then the worst happened. Mr + Seymour, who had been looking attentively at him for some time, leaned + forward and said in a tone evidently devoid of suspicion: 'Haven't we met + before somewhere? I seem to remember your face.' + </p> + <p> + 'Er—no, no,' replied Babington. 'That is, I think not. We may have.' + </p> + <p> + 'I feel sure we have. What school are you at?' + </p> + <p> + Babington's soul began to writhe convulsively. + </p> + <p> + 'What, what school? Oh, what <i>school</i>? Why, er—I'm at—er—Uppingham.' + </p> + <p> + Mr Seymour's face assumed a pleased expression. + </p> + <p> + 'Uppingham? Really. Why, I know several Uppingham fellows. Do you know Mr + Morton? He's a master at Uppingham, and a great friend of mine.' + </p> + <p> + The room began to dance briskly before Babington's eyes, but he clutched + at a straw, or what he thought was a straw. + </p> + <p> + 'Uppingham? Did I say Uppingham? Of course, I mean Rugby, you know, Rugby. + One's always mixing the two up, you know. Isn't one?' + </p> + <p> + Mr Seymour looked at him in amazement. Then he looked at the others as if + to ask which of the two was going mad, he or the youth opposite him. + Babington's cousin listened to the wild fictions which issued from his + lips in equal amazement. He thought he must be ill. Even Richards had a + fleeting impression that it was a little odd that a fellow should forget + what school he was at, and mistake the name Rugby for that of Uppingham, + or <i>vice versa</i>. Babington became an object of interest. + </p> + <p> + 'I say, Jack,' said the cousin, 'you're feeling all right, aren't you? I + mean, you don't seem to know what you're talking about. If you're going to + be ill, say so, and I'll prescribe for you.' + </p> + <p> + 'Is he at Rugby?' asked Mr Seymour. + </p> + <p> + 'No, of course he's not. How could he have got from Rugby to London in + time for a morning performance? Why, he's at St Austin's.' + </p> + <p> + Mr Seymour sat for a moment in silence, taking this in. Then he chuckled. + 'It's all right,' he said, 'he's not ill. We have met before, but under + such painful circumstances that Master Babington very thoughtfully + dissembled, in order not to remind me of them.' + </p> + <p> + He gave a brief synopsis of what had occurred. The audience, exclusive of + Babington, roared with laughter. + </p> + <p> + 'I suppose,' said the cousin, 'you won't prosecute, will you? It's really + such shocking luck, you know, that you ought to forget you're a master.' + </p> + <p> + Mr Seymour stirred his tea and added another lump of sugar very carefully + before replying. Babington watched him in silence, and wished that he + would settle the matter quickly, one way or the other. + </p> + <p> + 'Fortunately for Babington,' said Mr Seymour, 'and unfortunately for the + cause of morality, I am not a master. I was only a stop-gap, and my term + of office ceased today at one o'clock. Thus the prisoner at the bar gets + off on a technical point of law, and I trust it will be a lesson to him. I + suppose you had the sense to do the imposition?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir, I sat up last night.' + </p> + <p> + 'Good. Now, if you'll take my advice, you'll reform, or another day you'll + come to a bad end. By the way, how did you manage about roll-call today?' + </p> + <p> + 'I thought that was an awfully good part just at the end of the first + act,' said Babington. + </p> + <p> + Mr Seymour smiled. Possibly from gratification. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, how did it go off?' asked Peterson that night. + </p> + <p> + 'Don't, old chap,' said Babington, faintly. + </p> + <p> + 'I told you so,' said Jenkins at a venture. + </p> + <p> + But when he had heard the whole story he withdrew the remark, and + commented on the wholly undeserved good luck some people seemed to enjoy. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 11 — 'THE TABBY TERROR' + </h2> + <p> + The struggle between Prater's cat and Prater's cat's conscience was short, + and ended in the hollowest of victories for the former. The conscience + really had no sort of chance from the beginning. It was weak by nature and + flabby from long want of exercise, while the cat was in excellent + training, and was, moreover, backed up by a strong temptation. It pocketed + the stakes, which consisted of most of the contents of a tin of sardines, + and left unostentatiously by the window. When Smith came in after + football, and found the remains, he was surprised, and even pained. When + Montgomery entered soon afterwards, he questioned him on the subject. + </p> + <p> + 'I say, have you been having a sort of preliminary canter with the + banquet?' + </p> + <p> + 'No,' said Montgomery. 'Why?' + </p> + <p> + 'Somebody has,' said Smith, exhibiting the empty tin. 'Doesn't seem to + have had such a bad appetite, either.' + </p> + <p> + 'This reminds me of the story of the great bear, the medium bear, and the + little ditto,' observed Montgomery, who was apt at an analogy. 'You may + remember that when the great bear found his porridge tampered with, he—' + </p> + <p> + At this point Shawyer entered. He had been bidden to the feast, and was + feeling ready for it. + </p> + <p> + 'Hullo, tea ready?' he asked. + </p> + <p> + Smith displayed the sardine tin in much the same manner as the conjurer + shows a pack of cards when he entreats you to choose one, and remember the + number. + </p> + <p> + 'You haven't finished already, surely? Why, it's only just five.' + </p> + <p> + 'We haven't even begun,' said Smith. 'That's just the difficulty. The + question is, who has been on the raid in here?' + </p> + <p> + 'No human being has done this horrid thing,' said Montgomery. He always + liked to introduce a Holmes-Watsonian touch into the conversation. 'In the + first place, the door was locked, wasn't it, Smith?' + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove, so it was. Then how on earth—?' + </p> + <p> + 'Through the window, of course. The cat, equally of course. I should like + a private word with that cat.' + </p> + <p> + 'I suppose it must have been.' + </p> + <p> + 'Of course it was. Apart from the merely circumstantial evidence, which is + strong enough to hang it off its own bat, we have absolute proof of its + guilt. Just cast your eye over that butter. You follow me, Watson?' + </p> + <p> + The butter was submitted to inspection. In the very centre of it there was + a footprint. + </p> + <p> + '<i>I</i> traced his little footprints in the butter,' said Montgomery. + 'Now, is that the mark of a human foot?' + </p> + <p> + The jury brought in a unanimous verdict of guilty against the missing + animal, and over a sorrowful cup of tea, eked out with bread and jam—butter + appeared to be unpopular—discussed the matter in all its bearings. + The cat had not been an inmate of Prater's House for a very long time, and + up till now what depredation it had committed had been confined to the + official larder. Now, however, it had evidently got its hand in, and was + about to commence operations upon a more extensive scale. The Tabby Terror + had begun. Where would it end? The general opinion was that something + would have to be done about it. No one seemed to know exactly what to do. + Montgomery spoke darkly of bricks, bits of string, and horse-ponds. Smith + rolled the word 'rat-poison' luxuriously round his tongue. Shawyer, who + was something of an expert on the range, babbled of air-guns. + </p> + <p> + At tea on the following evening the first really serious engagement of the + campaign took place. The cat strolled into the tea-room in the patronizing + way characteristic of his kind, but was heavily shelled with lump-sugar, + and beat a rapid retreat. That was the signal for the outbreak of serious + hostilities. From that moment its paw was against every man, and the tale + of the things it stole is too terrible to relate in detail. It scored all + along the line. Like Death in the poem, it knocked at the doors of the + highest and the lowest alike. Or rather, it did not exactly knock. It came + in without knocking. The palace of the prefect and the hovel of the fag + suffered equally. Trentham, the head of the House, lost sausages to an + incredible amount one evening, and the next day Ripton, of the Lower + Third, was robbed of his one ewe lamb in the shape of half a tin of + anchovy paste. Panic reigned. + </p> + <p> + It was after this matter of the sausages that a luminous idea occurred to + Trentham. He had been laid up with a slight football accident, and his + family, reading between the lines of his written statement that he 'had + got crocked at footer, nothing much, only (rather a nuisance) might do him + out of the House-matches', a notification of mortal injuries, and seeming + to hear a death-rattle through the words 'felt rather chippy yesterday', + had come down <i>en masse</i> to investigate. <i>En masse,</i> that is to + say, with the exception of his father, who said he was too busy, but felt + sure it was nothing serious. ('Why, when I was a boy, my dear, I used to + think nothing of an occasional tumble. There's nothing the matter with + Dick. Why, etc., etc.') + </p> + <p> + Trentham's sister was his first visitor. + </p> + <p> + 'I say,' said he, when he had satisfied her on the subject of his health, + 'would you like to do me a good turn?' + </p> + <p> + She intimated that she would be delighted, and asked for details. + </p> + <p> + <i>'Buy the beak's cat,'</i> hissed Trentham, in a hoarse whisper. + </p> + <p> + 'Dick, it <i>was</i> your leg that you hurt, wasn't it? Not—not your + head?' she replied. 'I mean—' + </p> + <p> + 'No, I really mean it. Why can't you? It's a perfectly simple thing to + do.' + </p> + <p> + 'But what <i>is</i> a beak? And why should I buy its cat?' + </p> + <p> + 'A beak's a master. Surely you know that. You see, Prater's got a cat + lately, and the beast strolls in and raids the studies. Got round over + half a pound of prime sausages in here the other night, and he's always + bagging things everywhere. You'd be doing everyone a kindness if you would + take him on. He'll get lynched some day if you don't. Besides, you want a + cat for your new house, surely. Keep down the mice, and that sort of + thing, you know. This animal's a demon for mice.' This was a telling + argument. Trentham's sister had lately been married, and she certainly had + had some idea of investing in a cat to adorn her home. 'As for beetles,' + continued the invalid, pushing home his advantage, 'they simply daren't + come out of their lairs for fear of him.' + </p> + <p> + 'If he eats beetles,' objected his sister, 'he can't have a very good + coat.' + </p> + <p> + 'He doesn't eat them. Just squashes them, you know, like a policeman. He's + a decent enough beast as far as looks go.' + </p> + <p> + 'But if he steals things—' + </p> + <p> + 'No, don't you see, he only does that here, because the Praters don't + interfere with him and don't let us do anything to him. He won't try that + sort of thing on with you. If he does, get somebody to hit him over the + head with a boot-jack or something. He'll soon drop it then. You might as + well, you know. The House'll simply black your boots if you do.' + </p> + <p> + 'But would Mr Prater let me have the cat?' + </p> + <p> + 'Try him, anyhow. Pitch it fairly warm, you know. Only cat you ever loved, + and that sort of thing.' + </p> + <p> + 'Very well. I'll try.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks, awfully. And, I say, you might just look in here on your way out + and report.' + </p> + <p> + Mrs James Williamson, nee Miss Trentham, made her way dutifully to the + Merevale's part of the House. Mrs Prater had expressed a hope that she + would have some tea before catching her train. With tea it is usual to + have milk, and with milk it is usual, if there is a cat in the house, to + have feline society. Captain Kettle, which was the name thought suitable + to this cat by his godfathers and godmothers, was on hand early. As he + stood there pawing the mat impatiently, and mewing in a minor key, Mrs + Williamson felt that here was the cat for her. He certainly was good to + look upon. His black heart was hidden by a sleek coat of tabby fur, which + rendered stroking a luxury. His scheming brain was out of sight in a + shapely head. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, what a lovely cat!' said Mrs Williamson. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, isn't he,' agreed Mrs Prater. 'We are very proud of him.' + </p> + <p> + 'Such a beautiful coat!' + </p> + <p> + 'And such a sweet purr!' + </p> + <p> + 'He looks so intelligent. Has he any tricks?' + </p> + <p> + Had he any tricks! Why, Mrs Williamson, he could do everything except + speak. Captain Kettle, you bad boy, come here and die for your country. + Puss, puss. + </p> + <p> + Captain Kettle came at last reluctantly, died for his country in record + time, and flashed back again to the saucer. He had an important + appointment. Sorry to appear rude and all that sort of thing, don't you + know, but he had to see a cat about a mouse. + </p> + <p> + 'Well?' said Trentham, when his sister looked in upon him an hour later. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, Dick, it's the nicest cat I ever saw. I shall never be happy if I + don't get it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Have you bought it?' asked the practical Trentham. + </p> + <p> + 'My dear Dick, I couldn't. We couldn't bargain about a cat during tea. + Why, I never met Mrs Prater before this afternoon.' + </p> + <p> + 'No, I suppose not,' admitted Trentham, gloomily. 'Anyhow, look here, if + anything turns up to make the beak want to get rid of it, I'll tell him + you're dead nuts on it. See?' + </p> + <p> + For a fortnight after this episode matters went on as before. Mrs + Williamson departed, thinking regretfully of the cat she had left behind + her. + </p> + <p> + Captain Kettle died for his country with moderate regularity, and on one + occasion, when he attempted to extract some milk from the very centre of a + fag's tea-party, almost died for another reason. Then the end came + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Trentham had been invited to supper one Sunday by Mr Prater. When he + arrived it became apparent to him that the atmosphere was one of subdued + gloom. At first he could not understand this, but soon the reason was made + clear. Captain Kettle had, in the expressive language of the man in the + street, been and gone and done it. He had been left alone that evening in + the drawing-room, while the House was at church, and his eye, roaming + restlessly about in search of evil to perform, had lighted upon a cage. In + that cage was a special sort of canary, in its own line as accomplished an + artiste as Captain Kettle himself. It sang with taste and feeling, and + made itself generally agreeable in a number of little ways. But to Captain + Kettle it was merely a bird. One of the poets sings of an acquaintance of + his who was so constituted that 'a primrose by the river's brim a simple + primrose was to him, and it was nothing more'. Just so with Captain + Kettle. He was not the cat to make nice distinctions between birds. Like + the cat in another poem, he only knew they made him light and salutary + meals. So, with the exercise of considerable ingenuity, he extracted that + canary from its cage and ate it. He was now in disgrace. + </p> + <p> + 'We shall have to get rid of him,' said Mr Prater. + </p> + <p> + 'I'm afraid so,' said Mrs Prater. + </p> + <p> + 'If you weren't thinking of giving him to anyone in particular, sir,' said + Trentham, 'my sister would be awfully glad to take him, I know. She was + very keen on him when she came to see me.' + </p> + <p> + 'That's excellent,' said Prater. 'I was afraid we should have to send him + to a home somewhere.' + </p> + <p> + 'I suppose we can't keep him after all?' suggested Mrs Prater. + </p> + <p> + Trentham waited in suspense. + </p> + <p> + 'No,' said Prater, decidedly. 'I think <i>not</i>.' So Captain Kettle + went, and the House knew him no more, and the Tabby Terror was at an end. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 12 — THE PRIZE POEM + </h2> + <p> + Some quarter of a century before the period with which this story deals, a + certain rich and misanthropic man was seized with a bright idea for + perpetuating his memory after death, and at the same time harassing a + certain section of mankind. So in his will he set aside a portion of his + income to be spent on an annual prize for the best poem submitted by a + member of the Sixth Form of St Austin's College, on a subject to be + selected by the Headmaster. And, he added—one seems to hear him + chuckling to himself—every member of the form must compete. Then he + died. But the evil that men do lives after them, and each year saw a fresh + band of unwilling bards goaded to despair by his bequest. True, there were + always one or two who hailed this ready market for their sonnets and odes + with joy. But the majority, being barely able to rhyme 'dove' with 'love', + regarded the annual announcement of the subject chosen with feelings of + the deepest disgust. + </p> + <p> + The chains were thrown off after a period of twenty-seven years in this + fashion. + </p> + <p> + Reynolds of the Remove was indirectly the cause of the change. He was in + the infirmary, convalescing after an attack of German measles, when he + received a visit from Smith, an ornament of the Sixth. + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove,' remarked that gentleman, gazing enviously round the sick-room, + 'they seem to do you pretty well here.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, not bad, is it? Take a seat. Anything been happening lately?' + </p> + <p> + 'Nothing much. I suppose you know we beat the M.C.C. by a wicket?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, so I heard. Anything else?' + </p> + <p> + 'Prize poem,' said Smith, without enthusiasm. He was not a poet. + </p> + <p> + Reynolds became interested at once. If there was one role in which he + fancied himself (and, indeed, there were a good many), it was that of a + versifier. His great ambition was to see some of his lines in print, and + he had contracted the habit of sending them up to various periodicals, + with no result, so far, except the arrival of rejected MSS. at meal-times + in embarrassingly long envelopes. Which he blushingly concealed with all + possible speed. + </p> + <p> + 'What's the subject this year?' he asked. + </p> + <p> + 'The College—of all idiotic things.' + </p> + <p> + 'Couldn't have a better subject for an ode. By Jove, I wish I was in the + Sixth.' + </p> + <p> + 'Wish I was in the infirmary,' said Smith. + </p> + <p> + Reynolds was struck with an idea. + </p> + <p> + 'Look here, Smith,' he said, 'if you like I'll do you a poem, and you can + send it up. If it gets the prize—' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, it won't get the prize,' Smith put in eagerly. 'Rogers is a cert. for + that.' + </p> + <p> + 'If it gets the prize,' repeated Reynolds, with asperity, 'you'll have to + tell the Old Man all about it. He'll probably curse a bit, but that can't + be helped. How's this for a beginning? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Imposing pile, reared up 'midst pleasant grounds, + The scene of many a battle, lost or won, + At cricket or at football; whose red walls + Full many a sun has kissed 'ere day is done."' +</pre> + <p> + 'Grand. Couldn't you get in something about the M.C.C. match? You could + make cricket rhyme with wicket.' Smith sat entranced with his ingenuity, + but the other treated so material a suggestion with scorn. + </p> + <p> + 'Well,' said Smith, 'I must be off now. We've got a House-match on. Thanks + awfully about the poem.' + </p> + <p> + Left to himself, Reynolds set himself seriously to the composing of an ode + that should do him justice. That is to say, he drew up a chair and table + to the open window, wrote down the lines he had already composed, and + began chewing a pen. After a few minutes he wrote another four lines, + crossed them out, and selected a fresh piece of paper. He then copied out + his first four lines again. After eating his pen to a stump, he jotted + down the two words 'boys' and 'joys' at the end of separate lines. This + led him to select a third piece of paper, on which he produced a sort of + <i>edition de luxe</i> in his best handwriting, with the title 'Ode to the + College' in printed letters at the top. He was admiring the neat effect of + this when the door opened suddenly and violently, and Mrs Lee, a lady of + advanced years and energetic habits, whose duty it was to minister to the + needs of the sick and wounded in the infirmary, entered with his tea. Mrs + Lee's method of entering a room was in accordance with the advice of the + Psalmist, where he says, 'Fling wide the gates'. She flung wide the gate + of the sick-room, and the result was that what is commonly called 'a + thorough draught' was established. The air was thick with flying papers, + and when calm at length succeeded storm, two editions of 'Ode to the + College' were lying on the grass outside. + </p> + <p> + Reynolds attacked the tea without attempting to retrieve his vanished + work. Poetry is good, but tea is better. Besides, he argued within + himself, he remembered all he had written, and could easily write it out + again. So, as far as he was concerned, those three sheets of paper were a + closed book. + </p> + <p> + Later on in the afternoon, Montgomery of the Sixth happened to be passing + by the infirmary, when Fate, aided by a sudden gust of wind, blew a piece + of paper at him. 'Great Scott,' he observed, as his eye fell on the words + 'Ode to the College'. Montgomery, like Smith, was no expert in poetry. He + had spent a wretched afternoon trying to hammer out something that would + pass muster in the poem competition, but without the least success. There + were four lines on the paper. Two more, and it would be a poem, and + capable of being entered for the prize as such. The words 'imposing pile', + with which the fragment in his hand began, took his fancy immensely. A + poetic afflatus seized him, and in less than three hours he had added the + necessary couplet, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + How truly sweet it is for such as me + To gaze on thee. +</pre> + <p> + 'And dashed neat, too,' he said, with satisfaction, as he threw the + manuscript into his drawer. 'I don't know whether "me" shouldn't be "I", + but they'll have to lump it. It's a poem, anyhow, within the meaning of + the act.' And he strolled off to a neighbour's study to borrow a book. + </p> + <p> + Two nights afterwards, Morrison, also of the Sixth, was enjoying his usual + during prep siesta in his study. A tap at the door roused him. Hastily + seizing a lexicon, he assumed the attitude of the seeker after knowledge, + and said, 'Come in.' It was not the House-master, but Evans, Morrison's + fag, who entered with pride on his face and a piece of paper in his hand. + </p> + <p> + 'I say,' he began, 'you remember you told me to hunt up some tags for the + poem. Will this do?' + </p> + <p> + Morrison took the paper with a judicial air. On it were the words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Imposing pile, reared up 'midst pleasant grounds, + The scene of many a battle, lost or won, + At cricket or at football; whose red walls + Full many a sun has kissed 'ere day is done. +</pre> + <p> + 'That's ripping, as far as it goes,' said Morrison. 'Couldn't be better. + You'll find some apples in that box. Better take a few. But look here,' + with sudden suspicion, 'I don't believe you made all this up yourself. Did + you?' + </p> + <p> + Evans finished selecting his apples before venturing on a reply. Then he + blushed, as much as a member of the junior school is capable of blushing. + </p> + <p> + 'Well,' he said, 'I didn't exactly. You see, you only told me to get the + tags. You didn't say how.' + </p> + <p> + 'But how did you get hold of this? Whose is it?' + </p> + <p> + 'Dunno. I found it in the field between the Pavilion and the infirmary.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh! well, it doesn't matter much. They're just what I wanted, which is + the great thing. Thanks. Shut the door, will you?' Whereupon Evans + retired, the richer by many apples, and Morrison resumed his siesta at the + point where he had left off. + </p> + <p> + 'Got that poem done yet?' said Smith to Reynolds, pouring out a cup of tea + for the invalid on the following Sunday. + </p> + <p> + 'Two lumps, please. No, not quite.' + </p> + <p> + 'Great Caesar, man, when'll it be ready, do you think? It's got to go in + tomorrow.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, I'm really frightfully sorry, but I got hold of a grand book. Ever + read—?' + </p> + <p> + 'Isn't any of it done?' asked Smith. + </p> + <p> + 'Only the first verse, I'm afraid. But, look here, you aren't keen on + getting the prize. Why not send in only the one verse? It makes a fairly + decent poem.' + </p> + <p> + 'Hum! Think the Old 'Un'll pass it?' + </p> + <p> + 'He'll have to. There's nothing in the rules about length. Here it is if + you want it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thanks. I suppose it'll be all right? So long! I must be off.' + </p> + <p> + The Headmaster, known to the world as the Rev. Arthur James Perceval, + M.A., and to the School as the Old 'Un, was sitting at breakfast, stirring + his coffee, with a look of marked perplexity upon his dignified face. This + was not caused by the coffee, which was excellent, but by a letter which + he held in his left hand. + </p> + <p> + 'Hum!' he said. Then 'Umph!' in a protesting tone, as if someone had + pinched him. Finally, he gave vent to a long-drawn 'Um-m-m,' in a deep + bass. 'Most extraordinary. Really, most extraordinary. Exceedingly. Yes. + Um. Very.' He took a sip of coffee. + </p> + <p> + 'My dear,' said he, suddenly. Mrs Perceval started violently. She had been + sketching out in her mind a little dinner, and wondering whether the cook + would be equal to it. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' she said. + </p> + <p> + 'My dear, this is a very extraordinary communication. Exceedingly so. Yes, + very.' + </p> + <p> + 'Who is it from?' + </p> + <p> + Mr Perceval shuddered. He was a purist in speech. '<i>From whom</i>, you + should say. It is from Mr Wells, a great College friend of mine. I—ah—submitted + to him for examination the poems sent in for the Sixth Form Prize. He + writes in a very flippant style. I must say, very flippant. This is his + letter:—"Dear Jimmy (really, really, he should remember that we are + not so young as we were); dear—ahem—Jimmy. The poems to hand. + I have read them, and am writing this from my sick-bed. The doctor tells + me I may pull through even yet. There was only one any good at all, that + was Rogers's, which, though—er—squiffy (tut!) in parts, was a + long way better than any of the others. But the most taking part of the + whole programme was afforded by the three comedians, whose efforts I + enclose. You will notice that each begins with exactly the same four + lines. Of course, I deprecate cribbing, but you really can't help admiring + this sort of thing. There is a reckless daring about it which is simply + fascinating. A horrible thought—have they been pulling your + dignified leg? By the way, do you remember"—the rest of the letter + is—er—on different matters.' + </p> + <p> + 'James! How extraordinary!' + </p> + <p> + 'Um, yes. I am reluctant to suspect—er—collusion, but really + here there can be no doubt. No doubt at all. No.' + </p> + <p> + 'Unless,' began Mrs Perceval, tentatively. 'No doubt at all, my dear,' + snapped Reverend Jimmy. He did not wish to recall the other possibility, + that his dignified leg was being pulled. + </p> + <p> + 'Now, for what purpose did I summon you three boys?' asked Mr Perceval, of + Smith, Montgomery, and Morrison, in his room after morning school that + day. He generally began a painful interview with this question. The method + had distinct advantages. If the criminal were of a nervous disposition, he + would give himself away upon the instant. In any case, it was likely to + startle him. 'For what purpose?' repeated the Headmaster, fixing Smith + with a glittering eye. + </p> + <p> + 'I will tell you,' continued Mr Perceval. 'It was because I desired + information, which none but you can supply. How comes it that each of your + compositions for the Poetry Prize commences with the same four lines?' The + three poets looked at one another in speechless astonishment. + </p> + <p> + 'Here,' he resumed, 'are the three papers. Compare them. Now,'—after + the inspection was over—' what explanation have you to offer? Smith, + are these your lines?' + </p> + <p> + 'I—er—ah—<i>wrote</i> them, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'Don't prevaricate, Smith. Are you the author of those lines?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah! Very good. Are you, Montgomery?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'Very good. Then you, Morrison, are exonerated from all blame. You have + been exceedingly badly treated. The first-fruit of your brain has been—ah—plucked + by others, who toiled not neither did they spin. You can go, Morrison.' + </p> + <p> + 'But, sir—' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, Morrison?' + </p> + <p> + 'I didn't write them, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'I—ah—don't quite understand you, Morrison. You say that you + are indebted to another for these lines?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'To Smith?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'To Montgomery?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'Then, Morrison, may I ask to whom you are indebted?' + </p> + <p> + 'I found them in the field on a piece of paper, sir.' He claimed the + discovery himself, because he thought that Evans might possibly prefer to + remain outside this tangle. + </p> + <p> + 'So did I, sir.' This from Montgomery. Mr Perceval looked bewildered, as + indeed he was. + </p> + <p> + 'And did you, Smith, also find this poem on a piece of paper in the + field?' There was a metallic ring of sarcasm in his voice. + </p> + <p> + 'No, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah! Then to what circumstance were you indebted for the lines?' + </p> + <p> + 'I got Reynolds to do them for me, sir.' + </p> + <p> + Montgomery spoke. 'It was near the infirmary that I found the paper, and + Reynolds is in there.' + </p> + <p> + 'So did I, sir,' said Morrison, incoherently. + </p> + <p> + 'Then am I to understand, Smith, that to gain the prize you resorted to + such underhand means as this?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, sir, we agreed that there was no danger of my getting the prize. If I + had got it, I should have told you everything. Reynolds will tell you + that, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'Then what object had you in pursuing this deception?' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, sir, the rules say everyone must send in something, and I can't + write poetry at all, and Reynolds likes it, so I asked him to do it.' + </p> + <p> + And Smith waited for the storm to burst. But it did not burst. Far down in + Mr Perceval's system lurked a quiet sense of humour. The situation + penetrated to it. Then he remembered the examiner's letter, and it dawned + upon him that there are few crueller things than to make a prosaic person + write poetry. + </p> + <p> + 'You may go,' he said, and the three went. + </p> + <p> + And at the next Board Meeting it was decided, mainly owing to the + influence of an exceedingly eloquent speech from the Headmaster, to alter + the rules for the Sixth Form Poetry Prize, so that from thence onward no + one need compete unless he felt himself filled with the immortal fire. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 13 — WORK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With a pleasure that's emphatic + We retire to our attic + With the satisfying feeling that our duty has been done. + + Oh! philosophers may sing + Of the troubles of a king + But of pleasures there are many and of troubles there are none, + And the culminating pleasure + Which we treasure beyond measure + Is the satisfying feeling that our duty has been done. + + <i>W. S. Gilbert</i> +</pre> + <p> + Work is supposed to be the centre round which school life revolves—the + hub of the school wheel, the lode-star of the schoolboy's existence, and a + great many other things. 'You come to school to work', is the formula used + by masters when sentencing a victim to the wailing and gnashing of teeth + provided by two hours' extra tuition on a hot afternoon. In this, I think, + they err, and my opinion is backed up by numerous scholars of my + acquaintance, who have even gone so far—on occasions when they + themselves have been the victims—as to express positive disapproval + of the existing state of things. In the dear, dead days (beyond recall), I + used often to long to put the case to my form-master in its only fair + aspect, but always refrained from motives of policy. Masters are so apt to + take offence at the well-meant endeavours of their form to instruct them + in the way they should go. + </p> + <p> + What I should have liked to have done would have been something after this + fashion. Entering the sanctum of the Headmaster, I should have motioned + him to his seat—if he were seated already, have assured him that to + rise was unnecessary. I should then have taken a seat myself, taking care + to preserve a calm fixity of demeanour, and finally, with a preliminary + cough, I should have embarked upon the following moving address: 'My dear + sir, my dear Reverend Jones or Brown (as the case may be), believe me when + I say that your whole system of work is founded on a fallacious dream and + reeks of rottenness. No, no, I beg that you will not interrupt me. The + real state of the case, if I may say so, is briefly this: a boy goes to + school to enjoy himself, and, on arriving, finds to his consternation that + a great deal more work is expected of him than he is prepared to do. What + course, then, Reverend Jones or Brown, does he take? He proceeds to do as + much work as will steer him safely between the, ah—I may say, the + Scylla of punishment and the Charybdis of being considered what my, er—fellow-pupils + euphoniously term a swot. That, I think, is all this morning. <i>Good</i> + day. Pray do not trouble to rise. I will find my way out.' I should then + have made for the door, locked it, if possible, on the outside, and, + rushing to the railway station, have taken a through ticket to Spitzbergen + or some other place where Extradition treaties do not hold good. + </p> + <p> + But 'twas not mine to play the Tib. Gracchus, to emulate the O. Cromwell. + So far from pouring my opinions like so much boiling oil into the ear of + my task-master, I was content to play the part of audience while <i>he</i> + did the talking, my sole remark being 'Yes'r' at fixed intervals. + </p> + <p> + And yet I knew that I was in the right. My bosom throbbed with the justice + of my cause. For why? The ambition of every human new boy is surely to + become like J. Essop of the First Eleven, who can hit a ball over two + ponds, a wood, and seven villages, rather than to resemble that pale young + student, Mill-Stuart, who, though he can speak Sanskrit like a native of + Sanskritia, couldn't score a single off a slow long-hop. + </p> + <p> + And this ambition is a laudable one. For the athlete is the product of + nature—a step towards the more perfect type of animal, while the + scholar is the outcome of artificiality. What, I ask, does the scholar + gain, either morally or physically, or in any other way, by knowing who + was tribune of the people in 284 BC or what is the precise difference + between the various constructions of <i>cum</i>? It is not as if ignorance + of the tribune's identity caused him any mental unrest. In short, what + excuse is there for the student? 'None,' shrieks Echo enthusiastically. + 'None whatever.' + </p> + <p> + Our children are being led to ruin by this system. They will become dons + and think in Greek. The victim of the craze stops at nothing. He puns in + Latin. He quips and quirks in Ionic and Doric. In the worst stages of the + disease he will edit Greek plays and say that Merry quite misses the fun + of the passage, or that Jebb is mediocre. Think, I beg of you, + paterfamilias, and you, mater ditto, what your feelings would be were you + to find Henry or Archibald Cuthbert correcting proofs of <i>The Agamemnon</i>, + and inventing 'nasty ones' for Mr Sidgwick! Very well then. Be warned. + </p> + <p> + Our bright-eyed lads are taught insane constructions in Greek and Latin + from morning till night, and they come for their holidays, in many cases, + without the merest foundation of a batting style. Ask them what a Yorker + is, and they will say: 'A man from York, though I presume you mean a + Yorkshireman.' They will read Herodotus without a dictionary for pleasure, + but ask them to translate the childishly simple sentence: 'Trott was soon + in his timber-yard with a length 'un that whipped across from the off,' + and they'll shrink abashed and swear they have not skill at that, as + Gilbert says. + </p> + <p> + The papers sometimes contain humorous forecasts of future education, when + cricket and football shall come to their own. They little know the + excellence of the thing they mock at. When we get schools that teach + nothing but games, then will the sun definitely refuse to set on the roast + beef of old England. May it be soon. Some day, mayhap, I shall gather my + great-great-grandsons round my knee, and tell them—as one tells + tales of Faery—that I can remember the time when Work was considered + the be-all and the end-all of a school career. Perchance, when my + great-great-grandson John (called John after the famous Jones of that + name) has brought home the prize for English Essay on 'Rugby <i>v.</i> + Association', I shall pat his head (gently) and the tears will come to my + old eyes as I recall the time when I, too, might have won a prize—for + that obsolete subject, Latin Prose—and was only prevented by the + superior excellence of my thirty-and-one fellow students, coupled, indeed, + with my own inability to conjugate <i>sum.</i> + </p> + <p> + Such days, I say, may come. But now are the Dark Ages. The only thing that + can possibly make Work anything but an unmitigated nuisance is the + prospect of a 'Varsity scholarship, and the thought that, in the event of + failure, a 'Varsity career will be out of the question. + </p> + <p> + With this thought constantly before him, the student can put a certain + amount of enthusiasm into his work, and even go to the length of rising at + five o'clock o' mornings to drink yet deeper of the cup of knowledge. I + have done it myself. 'Varsity means games and yellow waistcoats and + Proctors, and that sort of thing. It is worth working for. + </p> + <p> + But for the unfortunate individual who is barred by circumstances from + participating in these joys, what inducement is there to work? Is such a + one to leave the school nets in order to stew in a stuffy room over a + Thucydides? I trow not. + </p> + <p> + Chapter one of my great forthcoming work, <i>The Compleat Slacker</i>, + contains minute instructions on the art of avoiding preparation from + beginning to end of term. Foremost among the words of advice ranks this + maxim: Get an official list of the books you are to do, and examine them + carefully with a view to seeing what it is possible to do unseen. Thus, if + Virgil is among these authors, you can rely on being able to do him with + success. People who ought to know better will tell you that Virgil is + hard. Such a shallow falsehood needs little comment. A scholar who cannot + translate ten lines of <i>The Aeneid</i> between the time he is put on and + the time he begins to speak is unworthy of pity or consideration, and if I + meet him in the street I shall assuredly cut him. Aeschylus, on the other + hand, is a demon, and needs careful watching, though in an emergency you + can always say the reading is wrong. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes the compleat slacker falls into a trap. The saddest case I can + remember is that of poor Charles Vanderpoop. He was a bright young lad, + and showed some promise of rising to heights as a slacker. He fell in this + fashion. One Easter term his form had half-finished a speech of + Demosthenes, and the form-master gave them to understand that they would + absorb the rest during the forthcoming term. Charles, being naturally + anxious to do as little work as possible during the summer months, spent + his Easter holidays carefully preparing this speech, so as to have it + ready in advance. What was his horror, on returning to School at the + appointed date, to find that they were going to throw Demosthenes over + altogether, and patronize Plato. Threats, entreaties, prayers—all + were accounted nothing by the master who had led him into this morass of + troubles. It is believed that the shock destroyed his reason. At any rate, + the fact remains that that term (the summer term, mark you) he won two + prizes. In the following term he won three. To recapitulate his outrages + from that time to the present were a harrowing and unnecessary task. + Suffice it that he is now a Regius Professor, and I saw in the papers a + short time ago that a lecture of his on 'The Probable Origin of the Greek + Negative', created quite a <i>furore</i>. If this is not Tragedy with a + big T, I should like to know what it is. + </p> + <p> + As an exciting pastime, unseen translation must rank very high. Everyone + who has ever tried translating unseen must acknowledge that all other + forms of excitement seem but feeble makeshifts after it. I have, in the + course of a career of sustained usefulness to the human race, had my share + of thrills. I have asked a strong and busy porter, at Paddington, when the + Brighton train started. I have gone for the broad-jump record in trying to + avoid a motor-car. I have played Spillikins and Ping-Pong. But never again + have I felt the excitement that used to wander athwart my moral backbone + when I was put on to translate a passage containing a notorious <i>crux</i> + and seventeen doubtful readings, with only that innate genius, which is + the wonder of the civilized world, to pull me through. And what a glow of + pride one feels when it is all over; when one has made a glorious, golden + guess at the <i>crux</i>, and trampled the doubtful readings under foot + with inspired ease. It is like a day at the seaside. + </p> + <p> + Work is bad enough, but Examinations are worse, especially the Board + Examinations. By doing from ten to twenty minutes prep every night, the + compleat slacker could get through most of the term with average success. + Then came the Examinations. The dabbler in unseen translations found + himself caught as in a snare. Gone was the peaceful security in which he + had lulled to rest all the well-meant efforts of his guardian angel to + rouse him to a sense of his duties. There, right in front of him, yawned + the abyss of Retribution. + </p> + <p> + Alas! poor slacker. I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of + most excellent fancy. Where be his gibes now? How is he to cope with the + fiendish ingenuity of the examiners? How is he to master the contents of a + book of Thucydides in a couple of days? It is a fearsome problem. Perhaps + he will get up in the small hours and work by candle light from two till + eight o'clock. In this case he will start his day a mental and physical + wreck. Perhaps he will try to work and be led away by the love of light + reading. + </p> + <p> + In any case he will fail to obtain enough marks to satisfy the examiners, + though whether examiners ever are satisfied, except by Harry the hero of + the school story (Every Lad's Library, uniform edition, 2s 6d), is rather + a doubtful question. + </p> + <p> + In such straits, matters resolve themselves into a sort of drama with + three characters. We will call our hero Smith. + </p> + <p> + <i>Scene:</i> a Study + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +<i>Dramatis Personae:</i> + SMITH + CONSCIENCE + MEPHISTOPHELES +</pre> + <p> + <i>Enter</i> SMITH (<i>down centre</i>) + </p> + <p> + <i>He seats himself at table and opens a Thucydides.</i> + </p> + <p> + <i>Enter</i> CONSCIENCE <i>through ceiling</i> (R.), MEPHISTOPHELES <i>through + floor</i> (L.). + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE (<i>with a kindly smile</i>): Precisely what I was about to + remark, my dear lad. A little Thucydides would be a very good thing. + Thucydides, as you doubtless know, was a very famous Athenian historian. + Date? + </p> + <p> + SMITH: Er—um—let me see. + </p> + <p> + MEPH. (<i>aside</i>): Look in the Introduction and pretend you did it by + accident. + </p> + <p> + SMITH (<i>having done so</i>): 431 B.C. <i>circ</i>. + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE <i>wipes away a tear</i>. + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE: Thucydides made himself a thorough master of the concisest of + styles. + </p> + <p> + MEPH.: And in doing so became infernally obscure. Excuse shop. + </p> + <p> + SMITH (<i>gloomily</i>): Hum! + </p> + <p> + MEPH. (<i>sneeringly</i>): Ha! + </p> + <p> + <i>Long pause</i>. + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE (<i>gently</i>): Do you not think, my dear lad, that you had + better begin? Time and tide, as you are aware, wait for no man. And— + </p> + <p> + SMITH: Yes? + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE: You have not, I fear, a very firm grasp of the subject. + However, if you work hard till eleven— + </p> + <p> + SMITH (<i>gloomily</i>): Hum! Three hours! + </p> + <p> + MEPH. (<i>cheerily</i>): Exactly so. Three hours. A little more if + anything. By the way, excuse me asking, but have you prepared the subject + thoroughly during the term? + </p> + <p> + SMITH: My <i>dear</i> sir! Of <i>course!</i> + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE (<i>reprovingly</i>):???!!??! + </p> + <p> + SMITH: Well, perhaps, not quite so much as I might have done. Such a lot + of things to do this term. Cricket, for instance. + </p> + <p> + MEPH.: Rather. Talking of cricket, you seemed to be shaping rather well + last Saturday. I had just run up on business, and someone told me you made + eighty not out. Get your century all right? + </p> + <p> + SMITH (<i>brightening at the recollection</i>): Just a bit—117 not + out. I hit—but perhaps you've heard? + </p> + <p> + MEPH.: Not at all, not at all. Let's hear all about it. + </p> + <p> + <i>CONSCIENCE seeks to interpose, but is prevented by MEPH., who eggs + SMITH on to talk cricket for over an hour.</i> + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE <i>(at last; in an acid voice)</i>: That is a history of the + Peloponnesian War by Thucydides on the table in front of you. I thought I + would mention it, in case you had forgotten. + </p> + <p> + SMITH: Great Scott, yes! Here, I say, I must start. + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE: Hear! Hear! + </p> + <p> + MEPH. <i>(insinuatingly)</i>: One moment. Did you say you <i>had</i> + prepared this book during the term? Afraid I'm a little hard of hearing. + Eh, what? + </p> + <p> + SMITH: Well—er—no, I have not. Have you ever played billiards + with a walking-stick and five balls? + </p> + <p> + MEPH.: Quite so, quite so. I quite understand. Don't you distress + yourself, old chap. You obviously can't get through a whole book of + Thucydides in under two hours, can you? + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE <i>(severely)</i>: He might, by attentive application to study, + master a considerable portion of the historian's <i>chef d'oeuvre</i> in + that time. + </p> + <p> + MEPH.: Yes, and find that not one of the passages he had prepared was set + in the paper. + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE: At the least, he would, if he were to pursue the course which + I have indicated, greatly benefit his mind. + </p> + <p> + MEPH. <i>gives a short, derisive laugh. Long pause.</i> + </p> + <p> + MEPH. <i>(looking towards bookshelf)</i>: Hullo, you've got a decent lot + of books, pommy word you have. <i>Rodney Stone, Vice Versa, Many Cargoes.</i> + Ripping. Ever read <i>Many Cargoes?</i> + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE <i>(glancing at his watch)</i>: I am sorry, but I must really + go now. I will see you some other day. + </p> + <p> + <i>Exit sorrowfully.</i> + </p> + <p> + MEPH.: Well, thank goodness <i>he's</i> gone. Never saw such a fearful old + bore in my life. Can't think why you let him hang on to you so. We may as + well make a night of it now, eh? No use your trying to work at this time + of night. + </p> + <p> + SMITH: Not a bit. + </p> + <p> + MEPH.: Did you say you'd not read <i>Many Cargoes?</i> + </p> + <p> + SMITH: Never. Only got it today. Good? + </p> + <p> + MEPH.: Simply ripping. All short stories. Make you yell. + </p> + <p> + SMITH <i>(with a last effort)</i>: But don't you think— + </p> + <p> + MEPH.: Oh no. Besides, you can easily get up early tomorrow for the + Thucydides. + </p> + <p> + SMITH: Of course I can. Never thought of that. Heave us <i>Many Cargoes.</i> + Thanks. + </p> + <p> + <i>Begins to read. MEPH. grins fiendishly, and vanishes through floor + enveloped in red flame. Sobbing heard from the direction of the ceiling. + </i> + </p> + <p> + Scene closes. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, of course, he will oversleep himself, and his Thucydides + paper will be of such a calibre that that eminent historian will writhe in + his grave. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 14 — NOTES + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Of all forms of lettered effusiveness, that which exploits the + original work of others and professes to supply us with right + opinions thereanent is the least wanted. + + <i>Kenneth Grahame</i> +</pre> + <p> + It has always seemed to me one of the worst flaws in our mistaken social + system, that absolutely no distinction is made between the master who + forces the human boy to take down notes from dictation and the rest of + mankind. I mean that, if in a moment of righteous indignation you rend + such a one limb from limb, you will almost certainly be subjected to the + utmost rigour of the law, and you will be lucky if you escape a heavy fine + of five or ten shillings, exclusive of the costs of the case. Now, this is + not right on the face of it. It is even wrong. The law should take into + account the extreme provocation which led to the action. Punish if you + will the man who travels second-class with a third-class ticket, or who + borrows a pencil and forgets to return it; but there are occasions when + justice should be tempered with mercy, and this murdering of pedagogues is + undoubtedly such an occasion. + </p> + <p> + It should be remembered, however, that there are two varieties of notes. + The printed notes at the end of your Thucydides or Homer are distinctly + useful when they aim at acting up to their true vocation, namely, the + translating of difficult passages or words. Sometimes, however, the author + will insist on airing his scholarship, and instead of translations he + supplies parallel passages, which neither interest, elevate, nor amuse the + reader. This, of course, is mere vanity. The author, sitting in his + comfortable chair with something short within easy reach, recks nothing of + the misery he is inflicting on hundreds of people who have done him no + harm at all. He turns over the pages of his book of <i>Familiar Quotations</i> + with brutal callousness, and for every tricky passage in the work which he + is editing, finds and makes a note of three or four even trickier ones + from other works. Who has not in his time been brought face to face with a + word which defies translation? There are two courses open to you on such + an occasion, to look the word up in the lexicon, or in the notes. You, of + course, turn up the notes, and find: 'See line 80.' You look up line 80, + hoping to see a translation, and there you are told that a rather similar + construction occurs in Xenophades' <i>Lyrics from a Padded Cell</i>. On + this, the craven of spirit will resort to the lexicon, but the man of + mettle will close his book with an emphatic bang, and refuse to have + anything more to do with it. Of a different sort are the notes which + simply translate the difficulty and subside. These are a boon to the + scholar. Without them it would be almost impossible to prepare one's work + during school, and we should be reduced to the prosaic expedient of + working in prep. time. What we want is the commentator who translates <i>mensa</i> + as 'a table' without giving a page and a half of notes on the uses of the + table in ancient Greece, with an excursus on the habit common in those + times of retiring underneath it after dinner, and a list of the passages + in Apollonius Rhodius where the word 'table' is mentioned. + </p> + <p> + These voluminous notes are apt to prove a nuisance in more ways than one. + Your average master is generally inordinately fond of them, and will + frequently ask some member of the form to read his note on so-and-so out + to his fellows. This sometimes leads to curious results, as it is hardly + to be expected that the youth called upon will be attending, even if he is + awake, which is unlikely. On one occasion an acquaintance of mine, 'whose + name I am not at liberty to divulge', was suddenly aware that he was being + addressed, and, on giving the matter his attention, found that it was the + form-master asking him to read out his note on <i>Balbus murum aedificavit</i>. + My friend is a kind-hearted youth and of an obliging disposition, and + would willingly have done what was asked of him, but there were obstacles, + first and foremost of which ranked the fact that, taking advantage of his + position on the back desk (whither he thought the basilisk eye of + Authority could not reach), he had substituted <i>Bab Ballads</i> for the + words of Virgil, and was engrossed in the contents of that modern classic. + The subsequent explanations lasted several hours. In fact, it is probable + that the master does not understand the facts of the case thoroughly even + now. It is true that he called him a 'loathsome, slimy, repulsive toad', + but even this seems to fall short of the grandeur of the situation. + </p> + <p> + Those notes, also, which are, alas! only too common nowadays, that deal + with peculiarities of grammar, how supremely repulsive they are! It is + impossible to glean any sense from them, as the Editor mixes up + Nipperwick's view with Sidgeley's reasoning and Spreckendzedeutscheim's + surmise with Donnerundblitzendorf's conjecture in a way that seems to + argue a thorough unsoundness of mind and morals, a cynical insanity + combined with a blatant indecency. He occasionally starts in a reasonable + manner by giving one view as (1) and the next as (2). So far everyone is + happy and satisfied. The trouble commences when he has occasion to refer + back to some former view, when he will say: 'Thus we see (1) and (14) + that,' etc. The unlucky student puts a finger on the page to keep the + place, and hunts up view one. Having found this, and marked the spot with + another finger, he proceeds to look up view fourteen. He places another + finger on this, and reads on, as follows: 'Zmpe, however, maintains that + Schrumpff (see 3) is practically insane, that Spleckzh (see 34) is only a + little better, and that Rswkg (see 97 a (b) C3) is so far from being right + that his views may be dismissed as readily as those of Xkryt (see 5x).' At + this point brain-fever sets in, the victim's last coherent thought being a + passionate wish for more fingers. A friend of mine who was the wonder of + all who knew him, in that he was known to have scored ten per cent in one + of these papers on questions like the above, once divulged to an + interviewer the fact that he owed his success to his methods of learning + rather than to his ability. On the night before an exam, he would retire + to some secret, solitary place, such as the boot-room, and commence + learning these notes by heart. This, though a formidable task, was not so + bad as the other alternative. The result was that, although in the + majority of cases he would put down for one question an answer that would + have been right for another, yet occasionally, luck being with him, he + would hit the mark. Hence his ten per cent. + </p> + <p> + Another fruitful source of discomfort is provided by the type of master + who lectures on a subject for half an hour, and then, with a bland smile, + invites, or rather challenges, his form to write a 'good, long note' on + the quintessence of his discourse. For the inexperienced this is an awful + moment. They must write something—but what? For the last half hour + they have been trying to impress the master with the fact that they belong + to the class of people who can always listen best with their eyes closed. + Nor poppy, nor mandragora, nor all the drowsy syrups of the world can ever + medicine them to that sweet sleep that they have just been enjoying. And + now they must write a 'good, long note'. It is in such extremities that + your veteran shows up well. He does not betray any discomfort. Not he. He + rather enjoys the prospect, in fact, of being permitted to place the + master's golden eloquence on paper. So he takes up his pen with alacrity. + No need to think what to write. He embarks on an essay concerning the + master, showing up all his flaws in a pitiless light, and analysing his + thorough worthlessness of character. On so congenial a subject he can, of + course, write reams, and as the master seldom, if ever, desires to read + the 'good, long note', he acquires a well-earned reputation for attending + in school and being able to express himself readily with his pen. <i>Vivat + floreatque</i>. + </p> + <p> + But all these forms of notes are as nothing compared with the notes that + youths even in this our boasted land of freedom are forced to take down + from dictation. Of the 'good, long note' your French scholar might well + remark: '<i>C'est terrible</i>', but justice would compel him to add, as + he thought of the dictation note: '<i>mais ce n'est pas le diable</i>'. + For these notes from dictation are, especially on a warm day, indubitably + <i>le diable</i>. + </p> + <p> + Such notes are always dictated so rapidly that it is impossible to do + anything towards understanding them as you go. You have to write your + hardest to keep up. The beauty of this, from one point of view, is that, + if you miss a sentence, you have lost the thread of the whole thing, and + it is useless to attempt to take it up again at once. The only plan is to + wait for some perceptible break in the flow of words, and dash in like + lightning. It is much the same sort of thing as boarding a bus when in + motion. And so you can take a long rest, provided you are in an obscure + part of the room. In passing, I might add that a very pleasing indoor game + can be played by asking the master, 'what came after so-and-so?' + mentioning a point of the oration some half-hour back. This always + provides a respite of a few minutes while he is thinking of some bitter + repartee worthy of the occasion, and if repeated several times during an + afternoon may cause much innocent merriment. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the real venom that lurks hid within notes from dictation does + not appear until the time for examination arrives. Then you find yourself + face to face with sixty or seventy closely and badly written pages of a + note-book, all of which must be learnt by heart if you would aspire to the + dizzy heights of half-marks. It is useless to tell your examiner that you + had no chance of getting up the subject. 'Why,' he will reply, 'I gave you + notes on that very thing myself.' 'You did, sir,' you say, as you advance + stealthily upon him, 'but as you dictated those notes at the rate of two + hundred words a minute, and as my brain, though large, is not capable of + absorbing sixty pages of a note-book in one night, how the suggestively + asterisked aposiopesis do you expect me to know them? Ah-h-h!' The last + word is a war-cry, as you fling yourself bodily on him, and tear him + courteously, but firmly, into minute fragments. Experience, which, as we + all know, teaches, will in time lead you into adopting some method by + which you may evade this taking of notes. A good plan is to occupy + yourself with the composition of a journal, an unofficial magazine not + intended for the eyes of the profane, but confined rigidly to your own + circle of acquaintances. The chief advantage of such a work is that you + will continue to write while the notes are being dictated. To throw your + pen down with an air of finality and begin reading some congenial work of + fiction would be a gallant action, but impolitic. No, writing of some sort + is essential, and as it is out of the question to take down the notes, + what better substitute than an unofficial journal could be found? To one + whose contributions to the School magazine are constantly being cut down + to mere skeletons by the hands of censors, there is a rapture otherwise + unattainable in a page of really scurrilous items about those in + authority. Try it yourselves, my beamish lads. Think of something really + bad about somebody. Write it down and gloat over it. Sometimes, indeed, it + is of the utmost use in determining your future career. You will probably + remember those Titanic articles that appeared at the beginning of the war + in <i>The Weekly Luggage-Train</i>, dealing with all the crimes of the War + Office—the generals, the soldiers, the enemy—of everybody, in + fact, except the editor, staff and office-boy of <i>The W.L.T.</i> Well, + the writer of those epoch-making articles confesses that he owes all his + skill to his early training, when, a happy lad at his little desk in + school, he used to write trenchantly in his note-book on the subject of + the authorities. There is an example for you. Of course we can never be + like him, but let, oh! let us be as like him as we're able to be. A final + word to those lost ones who dictate the notes. Why are our ears so + constantly assailed with unnecessary explanations of, and opinions on, + English literature? Prey upon the Classics if you will. It is a revolting + habit, but too common to excite overmuch horror. But surely anybody, + presupposing a certain bias towards sanity, can understand the Classics of + our own language, with the exception, of course, of Browning. Take + Tennyson, for example. How often have we been forced to take down from + dictation the miserable maunderings of some commentator on the subject of + <i>Maud</i>. A person reads <i>Maud</i>, and either likes it or dislikes + it. In any case his opinion is not likely to be influenced by writing down + at express speed the opinions of somebody else concerning the methods or + objectivity and subjectivity of the author when he produced the work. + </p> + <p> + Somebody told me a short time ago that Shelley was an example of supreme, + divine, superhuman genius. It is the sort of thing Mr Gilbert's 'rapturous + maidens' might have said: 'How Botticellian! How Fra Angelican! How + perceptively intense and consummately utter!' There is really no material + difference. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 15 — NOW, TALKING ABOUT CRICKET + </h2> + <p> + In the days of yore, when these white hairs were brown—or was it + black? At any rate, they were not white—and I was at school, it was + always my custom, when Fate obliged me to walk to school with a casual + acquaintance, to whom I could not unburden my soul of those profound + thoughts which even then occupied my mind, to turn the struggling + conversation to the relative merits of cricket and football. + </p> + <p> + 'Do you like cricket better than footer?' was my formula. Now, though at + the time, in order to save fruitless argument, I always agreed with my + companion, and praised the game he praised, in the innermost depths of my + sub-consciousness, cricket ranked a long way in front of all other forms + of sport. I may be wrong. More than once in my career it has been + represented to me that I couldn't play cricket for nuts. My captain said + as much when I ran him out in <i>the</i> match of the season after he had + made forty-nine and looked like stopping. A bowling acquaintance heartily + endorsed his opinion on the occasion of my missing three catches off him + in one over. This, however, I attribute to prejudice, for the man I missed + ultimately reached his century, mainly off the deliveries of my bowling + acquaintance. I pointed out to him that, had I accepted any one of the + three chances, we should have missed seeing the prettiest century made on + the ground that season; but he was one of those bowlers who sacrifice all + that is beautiful in the game to mere wickets. A sordid practice. + </p> + <p> + Later on, the persistence with which my county ignored my claims to + inclusion in the team, convinced me that I must leave cricket fame to + others. True, I did figure, rather prominently, too, in one county match. + It was at the Oval, Surrey <i>v</i>. Middlesex. How well I remember that + occasion! Albert Trott was bowling (Bertie we used to call him); I forget + who was batting. Suddenly the ball came soaring in my direction. I was not + nervous. I put down the sandwich I was eating, rose from my seat, picked + the ball up neatly, and returned it with unerring aim to a fieldsman who + was waiting for it with becoming deference. Thunders of applause went up + from the crowded ring. + </p> + <p> + That was the highest point I ever reached in practical cricket. But, as + the historian says of Mr Winkle, a man may be an excellent sportsman in + theory, even if he fail in practice. That's me. Reader (if any), have you + ever played cricket in the passage outside your study with a walking-stick + and a ball of paper? That's the game, my boy, for testing your skill of + wrist and eye. A century <i>v</i>. the M.C.C. is well enough in its way, + but give me the man who can watch 'em in a narrow passage, lit only by a + flickering gas-jet—one for every hit, four if it reaches the end, + and six if it goes downstairs full-pitch, any pace bowling allowed. To + make double figures in such a match is to taste life. Only you had better + do your tasting when the House-master is out for the evening. + </p> + <p> + I like to watch the young cricket idea shooting. I refer to the lower + games, where 'next man in' umpires with his pads on, his loins girt, and a + bat in his hand. Many people have wondered why it is that no budding + umpire can officiate unless he holds a bat. For my part, I think there is + little foundation for the theory that it is part of a semi-religious rite, + on the analogy of the Freemasons' special handshake and the like. Nor do I + altogether agree with the authorities who allege that man, when standing + up, needs something as a prop or support. There is a shadow of reason, I + grant, in this supposition, but after years of keen observation I am + inclined to think that the umpire keeps his bat by him, firstly, in order + that no unlicensed hand shall commandeer it unbeknownst, and secondly, so + that he shall be ready to go in directly his predecessor is out. There is + an ill-concealed restiveness about his movements, as he watches the + batsmen getting set, that betrays an overwrought spirit. Then of a sudden + one of them plays a ball on to his pad. '<i>'s that</i>?' asks the bowler, + with an overdone carelessness. 'Clean out. Now <i>I'm</i> in,' and already + he is rushing up the middle of the pitch to take possession. When he gets + to the wicket a short argument ensues. 'Look here, you idiot, I hit it + hard.' 'Rot, man, out of the way.' '!!??!' 'Look here, Smith, <i>are</i> + you going to dispute the umpire's decision?' Chorus of fieldsmen: 'Get + out, Smith, you ass. You've been given out years ago.' Overwhelmed by + popular execration, Smith reluctantly departs, registering in the black + depths of his soul a resolution to take on the umpireship at once, with a + view to gaining an artistic revenge by giving his enemy run out on the + earliest possible occasion. There is a primeval <i>insouciance</i> about + this sort of thing which is as refreshing to a mind jaded with the stiff + formality of professional umpires as a cold shower-bath. + </p> + <p> + I have made a special study of last-wicket men; they are divided into two + classes, the deplorably nervous, or the outrageously confident. The + nervous largely outnumber the confident. The launching of a last-wicket + man, when there are ten to make to win, or five minutes left to make a + draw of a losing game, is fully as impressive a ceremony as the launching + of the latest battleship. An interested crowd harasses the poor victim as + he is putting on his pads. 'Feel in a funk?' asks some tactless friend. + 'N-n-no, norrabit.' 'That's right,' says the captain encouragingly, + 'bowling's as easy as anything.' + </p> + <p> + This cheers the wretch up a little, until he remembers suddenly that the + captain himself was distinctly at sea with the despised trundling, and + succumbed to his second ball, about which he obviously had no idea + whatever. At this he breaks down utterly, and, if emotional, will sob into + his batting glove. He is assisted down the Pavilion steps, and reaches the + wickets in a state of collapse. Here, very probably, a reaction will set + in. The sight of the crease often comes as a positive relief after the + vague terrors experienced in the Pavilion. + </p> + <p> + The confident last-wicket man, on the other hand, goes forth to battle + with a light quip upon his lips. The lot of a last-wicket batsman, with a + good eye and a sense of humour, is a very enviable one. The incredulous + disgust of the fast bowler, who thinks that at last he may safely try that + slow head-ball of his, and finds it lifted genially over the leg-boundary, + is well worth seeing. I remember in one school match, the last man, + unfortunately on the opposite side, did this three times in one over, + ultimately retiring to a fluky catch in the slips with forty-one to his + name. Nervousness at cricket is a curious thing. As the author of <i>Willow + the King</i>, himself a county cricketer, has said, it is not the fear of + getting out that causes funk. It is a sort of intangible <i>je ne sais + quoi</i>. I trust I make myself clear. Some batsmen are nervous all + through a long innings. With others the feeling disappears with the first + boundary. + </p> + <p> + A young lady—it is, of course, not polite to mention her age to the + minute, but it ranged somewhere between eight and ten—was taken to + see a cricket match once. After watching the game with interest for some + time, she gave out this profound truth: 'They all attend specially to one + man.' It would be difficult to sum up the causes of funk more lucidly and + concisely. To be an object of interest is sometimes pleasant, but when ten + fieldsmen, a bowler, two umpires, and countless spectators are eagerly + watching your every movement, the thing becomes embarrassing. + </p> + <p> + That is why it is, on the whole, preferable to be a cricket spectator + rather than a cricket player. No game affords the spectator such unique + opportunities of exerting his critical talents. You may have noticed that + it is always the reporter who knows most about the game. Everyone, + moreover, is at heart a critic, whether he represent the majesty of the + Press or not. From the lady of Hoxton, who crushes her friend's latest + confection with the words, 'My, wot an 'at!' down to that lowest class of + all, the persons who call your attention (in print) to the sinister + meaning of everything Clytemnestra says in <i>The Agamemnon</i>, the whole + world enjoys expressing an opinion of its own about something. + </p> + <p> + In football you are vouchsafed fewer chances. Practically all you can do + is to shout 'off-side' whenever an opponent scores, which affords but + meagre employment for a really critical mind. In cricket, however, nothing + can escape you. Everything must be done in full sight of everybody. There + the players stand, without refuge, simply inviting criticism. + </p> + <p> + It is best, however, not to make one's remarks too loud. If you do, you + call down upon yourself the attention of others, and are yourself + criticized. I remember once, when I was of tender years, watching a school + match, and one of the batsmen lifted a ball clean over the Pavilion. This + was too much for my sensitive and critical young mind. 'On the carpet, + sir,' I shouted sternly, well up in the treble clef, 'keep 'em on the + carpet.' I will draw a veil. Suffice it to say that I became a sport and + derision, and was careful for the future to criticize in a whisper. But + the reverse by no means crushed me. Even now I take a melancholy pleasure + in watching school matches, and saying So-and-So will make quite a fair <i>school-boy</i> + bat in time, but he must get rid of that stroke of his on the off, and + that shocking leg-hit, and a few of those <i>awful</i> strokes in the + slips, but that on the whole, he is by no means lacking in promise. I find + it refreshing. If, however, you feel compelled not merely to look on, but + to play, as one often does at schools where cricket is compulsory, it is + impossible to exaggerate the importance of white boots. The game you play + before you get white boots is not cricket, but a weak imitation. The + process of initiation is generally this. One plays in shoes for a few + years with the most dire result, running away to square leg from fast + balls, and so on, till despair seizes the soul. Then an angel in human + form, in the very effective disguise of the man at the school boot-shop, + hints that, for an absurdly small sum in cash, you may become the sole + managing director of a pair of <i>white buckskin</i> boots with real + spikes. You try them on. They fit, and the initiation is complete. You no + longer run away from fast balls. You turn them neatly off to the boundary. + In a word, you begin for the first time to play the game, the whole game, + and nothing but the game. + </p> + <p> + There are misguided people who complain that cricket is becoming a + business more than a game, as if that were not the most fortunate thing + that could happen. When it ceases to be a mere business and becomes a + religious ceremony, it will be a sign that the millennium is at hand. The + person who regards cricket as anything less than a business is no fit + companion, gentle reader, for the likes of you and me. As long as the game + goes in his favour the cloven hoof may not show itself. But give him a + good steady spell of leather-hunting, and you will know him for what he + is, a mere <i>dilettante</i>, a dabbler, in a word, a worm, who ought + never to be allowed to play at all. The worst of this species will + sometimes take advantage of the fact that the game in which they happen to + be playing is only a scratch game, upon the result of which no very great + issues hang, to pollute the air they breathe with verbal, and the ground + they stand on with physical, buffooneries. Many a time have I, and many a + time have you, if you are what I take you for, shed tears of blood, at the + sight of such. Careless returns, overthrows—but enough of a painful + subject. Let us pass on. + </p> + <p> + I have always thought it a better fate for a man to be born a bowler than + a bat. A batsman certainly gets a considerable amount of innocent fun by + snicking good fast balls just off his wicket to the ropes, and standing + stolidly in front against slow leg-breaks. These things are good, and help + one to sleep peacefully o' nights, and enjoy one's meals. But no batsman + can experience that supreme emotion of 'something attempted, something + done', which comes to a bowler when a ball pitches in a hole near point's + feet, and whips into the leg stump. It is one crowded second of glorious + life. Again, the words 'retired hurt' on the score-sheet are far more + pleasant to the bowler than the batsman. The groan of a batsman when a + loose ball hits him full pitch in the ribs is genuine. But the + 'Awfully-sorry-old-chap-it-slipped' of the bowler is not. Half a loaf is + better than no bread, as Mr Chamberlain might say, and if he cannot hit + the wicket, he is perfectly contented with hitting the man. In my opinion, + therefore, the bowler's lot, in spite of billiard table wickets, red marl, + and such like inventions of a degenerate age, is the happier one. + </p> + <p> + And here, glowing with pride of originality at the thought that I have + written of cricket without mentioning Alfred Mynn or Fuller Pilch, I heave + a reminiscent sigh, blot my MS., and thrust my pen back into its sheath. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 16 — THE TOM BROWN QUESTION + </h2> + <p> + The man in the corner had been trying to worry me into a conversation for + some time. He had asked me if I objected to having the window open. He had + said something rather bitter about the War Office, and had hoped I did not + object to smoking. Then, finding that I stuck to my book through + everything, he made a fresh attack. + </p> + <p> + 'I see you are reading <i>Tom Brown's Schooldays</i>,' he said. + </p> + <p> + This was a plain and uninteresting statement of fact, and appeared to me + to require no answer. I read on. + </p> + <p> + 'Fine book, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'Very.' + </p> + <p> + 'I suppose you have heard of the Tom Brown Question?' + </p> + <p> + I shut my book wearily, and said I had not. + </p> + <p> + 'It is similar to the Homeric Question. You have heard of that, I + suppose?' + </p> + <p> + I knew that there was a discussion about the identity of the author of the + Iliad. When at school I had been made to take down notes on the subject + until I had grown to loathe the very name of Homer. + </p> + <p> + 'You see,' went on my companion, 'the difficulty about <i>Tom Brown's + Schooldays</i> is this. It is obvious that part one and part two were + written by different people. You admit that, I suppose?' + </p> + <p> + 'I always thought Mr Hughes wrote the whole book.' + </p> + <p> + 'Dear me, not really? Why, I thought everyone knew that he only wrote the + first half. The question is, who wrote the second. I know, but I don't + suppose ten other people do. No, sir.' + </p> + <p> + 'What makes you think he didn't write the second part?' + </p> + <p> + 'My dear sir, just read it. Read part one carefully, and then read part + two. Why, you can see in a minute.' + </p> + <p> + I said I had read the book three times, but had never noticed anything + peculiar about it, except that the second half was not nearly so + interesting as the first. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, just tell me this. Do you think the same man created East and + Arthur? Now then.' + </p> + <p> + I admitted that it was difficult to understand such a thing. + </p> + <p> + 'There was a time, of course,' continued my friend, 'when everybody + thought as you do. The book was published under Hughes's name, and it was + not until Professor Burkett-Smith wrote his celebrated monograph on the + subject that anybody suspected a dual, or rather a composite, authorship. + Burkett-Smith, if you remember, based his arguments on two very + significant points. The first of these was a comparison between the + football match in the first part and the cricket match in the second. + After commenting upon the truth of the former description, he went on to + criticize the latter. Do you remember that match? You do? Very well. You + recall how Tom wins the toss on a plumb wicket?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes.' + </p> + <p> + 'Then with the usual liberality of young hands (I quote from the book) he + put the M.C.C. in first. Now, my dear sir, I ask you, would a school + captain do that? I am young, says one of Gilbert's characters, the Grand + Duke, I think, but, he adds, I am not so young as that. Tom may have been + young, but would he, <i>could</i> he have been young enough to put his + opponents in on a true wicket, when he had won the toss? Would the Tom + Brown of part one have done such a thing?' + </p> + <p> + 'Never,' I shouted, with enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + 'But that's nothing to what he does afterwards. He permits, he actually + sits there and permits, comic songs and speeches to be made during the + luncheon interval. Comic Songs! Do you hear me, sir? COMIC SONGS!! And + this when he wanted every minute of time he could get to save the match. + Would the Tom Brown of part one have done such a thing?' + </p> + <p> + 'Never, never.' I positively shrieked the words this time. + </p> + <p> + 'Burkett-Smith put that point very well. His second argument is founded on + a single remark of Tom's, or rather—' + </p> + <p> + 'Or rather,' I interrupted, fiercely,' or rather of the wretched miserable—' + </p> + <p> + 'Contemptible,' said my friend. + </p> + <p> + 'Despicable, scoundrelly, impostor who masquerades as Tom in the second + half of the book.' + </p> + <p> + 'Exactly,' said he. 'Thank you very much. I have often thought the same + myself. The remark to which I refer is that which he makes to the master + while he is looking on at the M.C.C. match. In passing, sir, might I ask + you whether the Tom Brown of part one would have been on speaking terms + with such a master?' + </p> + <p> + I shook my head violently. I was too exhausted to speak. + </p> + <p> + 'You remember the remark? The master commented on the fact that Arthur is + a member of the first eleven. I forget Tom's exact words, but the + substance of them is this, that, though on his merits Arthur was not worth + his place, he thought it would do him such a lot of good being in the + team. Do I make myself plain, sir? He—thought—it—would—do— + him—such—a—lot—of—good—being—in—the—team!!!' + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. We sat looking at one another, forming silently with + our lips the words that still echoed through the carriage. + </p> + <p> + 'Burkett-Smith,' continued my companion, 'makes a great deal of that + remark. His peroration is a very fine piece of composition. "Whether + (concludes he) the captain of a school cricket team who could own + spontaneously to having been guilty of so horrible, so terrible an act of + favouritismical jobbery, who could sit unmoved and see his team being + beaten in the most important match of the season (and, indeed, for all + that the author tells us it may have been the only match of the season), + for no other reason than that he thought a first eleven cap would prove a + valuable tonic to an unspeakable personal friend of his, whether, I say, + the Tom Brown who acted thus could have been the Tom Brown who headed the + revolt of the fags in part one, is a question which, to the present + writer, offers no difficulties. I await with confidence the verdict of a + free, enlightened, and conscientious public of my fellow-countrymen." Fine + piece of writing, that, sir?' + </p> + <p> + 'Very,' I said. + </p> + <p> + 'That pamphlet, of course, caused a considerable stir. Opposing parties + began to be formed, some maintaining that Burkett-Smith was entirely + right, others that he was entirely wrong, while the rest said he might + have been more wrong if he had not been so right, but that if he had not + been so mistaken he would probably have been a great deal more correct. + The great argument put forward by the supporters of what I may call the + "One Author" view, was, that the fight in part two could not have been + written by anyone except the author of the fight with Flashman in the + school-house hall. And this is the point which has led to all the + discussion. Eliminate the Slogger Williams episode, and the whole of the + second part stands out clearly as the work of another hand. But there is + one thing that seems to have escaped the notice of everybody.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes?' I said. + </p> + <p> + He leant forward impressively, and whispered. 'Only the actual fight is + the work of the genuine author. The interference of Arthur has been + interpolated!' + </p> + <p> + 'By Jove!' I said. 'Not really?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes. Fact, I assure you. Why, think for a minute. Could a man capable of + describing a fight as that fight is described, also be capable of stopping + it just as the man the reader has backed all through is winning? It would + be brutal. Positively brutal, sir!' + </p> + <p> + 'Then, how do you explain it?' + </p> + <p> + 'A year ago I could not have told you. Now I can. For five years I have + been unravelling the mystery by the aid of that one clue. Listen. When Mr + Hughes had finished part one, he threw down his pen and started to Wales + for a holiday. He had been there a week or more, when one day, as he was + reclining on the peak of a mountain looking down a deep precipice, he was + aware of a body of men approaching him. They were dressed soberly in + garments of an inky black. Each had side whiskers, and each wore + spectacles. "Mr Hughes, I believe?" said the leader, as they came up to + him. + </p> + <p> + '"Your servant, sir," said he. + </p> + <p> + '"We have come to speak to you on an important matter, Mr Hughes. We are + the committee of the Secret Society For Putting Wholesome Literature + Within The Reach Of Every Boy, And Seeing That He Gets It. I, sir, am the + president of the S.S.F.P.W.L.W.T.R.O.E.B.A.S.T.H.G.I." He bowed. + </p> + <p> + '"Really, sir, I—er—don't think I have the pleasure," began Mr + Hughes. + </p> + <p> + '"You shall have the pleasure, sir. We have come to speak to you about + your book. Our representative has read Part I, and reports unfavourably + upon it. It contains no moral. There are scenes of violence, and your hero + is far from perfect." + </p> + <p> + '"I think you mistake my object," said Mr Hughes; "Tom is a boy, not a + patent medicine. In other words, he is not supposed to be perfect." + </p> + <p> + '"Well, I am not here to bandy words. The second part of your book must be + written to suit the rules of our Society. Do you agree, or shall we throw + you over that precipice?" + </p> + <p> + '"Never. I mean, I don't agree." + </p> + <p> + '"Then we must write it for you. Remember, sir, that you will be + constantly watched, and if you attempt to write that second part yourself—"' + (he paused dramatically). 'So the second part was written by the committee + of the Society. So now you know.' + </p> + <p> + 'But,' said I, 'how do you account for the fight with Slogger Williams?' + </p> + <p> + 'The president relented slightly towards the end, and consented to Mr + Hughes inserting a chapter of his own, on condition that the Society + should finish it. And the Society did. See?' + </p> + <p> + 'But—' + </p> + <p> + 'Ticket.' + </p> + <p> + 'Eh?' + </p> + <p> + 'Ticket, please, sir.' + </p> + <p> + I looked up. The guard was standing at the open door. My companion had + vanished. + </p> + <p> + 'Guard,' said I, as I handed him my ticket, 'where's the gentleman who + travelled up with me?' + </p> + <p> + 'Gentleman, sir? I haven't seen nobody.' + </p> + <p> + 'Not a man in tweeds with red hair? I mean, in tweeds and owning red + hair.' + </p> + <p> + 'No, sir. You've been alone in the carriage all the way up. Must have + dreamed it, sir.' + </p> + <p> + Possibly I did. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of St. Austin's, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF ST. AUSTIN'S *** + +***** This file should be named 6980-h.htm or 6980-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/9/8/6980/ + +Etext produced by Suzanne L. 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Wodehouse + +Posting Date: August 26, 2012 [EBook #6980] +Release Date: November, 2004 +First Posted: February 19, 2003 +Last Updated: August 3, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF ST. AUSTIN'S *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + + + +TALES OF ST AUSTIN'S + + + + +by P. G. Wodehouse + +1903 + + + + + +PREFACE + + +Most of these stories originally appeared in _The Captain_. I am +indebted to the Editor of that magazine for allowing me to republish. +The rest are from the _Public School Magazine_. The story entitled +'A Shocking Affair' appears in print for the first time. 'This was one +of our failures.' + +_P. G. Wodehouse_ + + + + +[Dedication] +AD MATREM + + + + +CONTENTS + + +1 How Pillingshot Scored + +2 The Odd Trick + +3 L'Affaire Uncle John (A Story in Letters) + +4 Harrison's Slight Error + +5 Bradshaw's Little Story + +6 A Shocking Affair + +7 The Babe and the Dragon + +8 The Manoeuvres of Charteris + +9 How Payne Bucked Up + +10 Author! + +11 'The Tabby Terror' + +12 The Prize Poem + +13 Work + +14 Notes + +15 Now, Talking About Cricket-- + +16 The Tom Brown Question + + + + +[1] + +HOW PILLINGSHOT SCORED + + +Pillingshot was annoyed. He was disgusted, mortified; no other word for +it. He had no objection, of course, to Mr Mellish saying that his work +during the term, and especially his Livy, had been disgraceful. A +master has the right to say that sort of thing if he likes. It is one +of the perquisites of the position. But when he went on to observe, +without a touch of shame, that there would be an examination in the +Livy as far as they had gone in it on the following Saturday, +Pillingshot felt that he exceeded. It was not playing the game. There +were the examinations at the end of term. Those were fair enough. You +knew exactly when they were coming, and could make your arrangements +accordingly. But to spring an examination on you in the middle of the +term out of a blue sky, as it were, was underhand and unsportsmanlike, +and would not do at all. Pillingshot wished that he could put his foot +down. He would have liked to have stalked up to Mr Mellish's desk, +fixed him with a blazing eye, and remarked, 'Sir, withdraw that remark. +Cancel that statement instantly, or--!' or words to that effect. + +What he did say was: 'Oo, si-i-r!!' + +'Yes,' said Mr Mellish, not troubling to conceal his triumph +at Pillingshot's reception of the news, 'there will be a Livy +examination next Saturday. And--' (he almost intoned this last +observation)--'anybody who does not get fifty per cent, Pillingshot, +fifty per cent, will be severely punished. Very severely punished, +Pillingshot.' + +After which the lesson had proceeded on its course. + +'Yes, it is rather low, isn't it?' said Pillingshot's friend, Parker, +as Pillingshot came to the end of a stirring excursus on the rights of +the citizen, with special reference to mid-term Livy examinations. +'That's the worst of Mellish. He always has you somehow.' + +'But what am I to _do_?' raved Pillingshot. + +'I should advise you to swot it up before Saturday,' said Parker. + +'Oh, don't be an ass,' said Pillingshot, irritably. + +What was the good of friends if they could only make idiotic +suggestions like that? + +He retired, brooding, to his house. + +The day was Wednesday. There were only two more days, therefore, in +which to prepare a quarter of a book of Livy. It couldn't be done. The +thing was not possible. + +In the house he met Smythe. + +'What are you going to do about it?' he inquired. Smythe was top of the +form, and if he didn't know how to grapple with a crisis of this sort, +who _could_ know? + +'If you'll kindly explain,' said Smythe, 'what the dickens you are +talking about, I might be able to tell you.' + +Pillingshot explained, with unwonted politeness, that 'it' meant the +Livy examination. + +'Oh,' said Smythe, airily, 'that! I'm just going to skim through it in +case I've forgotten any of it. Then I shall read up the notes +carefully. And then, if I have time, I shall have a look at the history +of the period. I should advise you to do that, too.' + +'Oh, don't be a goat,' said Pillingshot. + +And he retired, brooding, as before. + +That afternoon he spent industriously, copying out the fourth book of +_The Aeneid_. At the beginning of the week he had had a slight +disagreement with M. Gerard, the French master. + +Pillingshot's views on behaviour and deportment during French lessons +did not coincide with those of M. Gerard. Pillingshot's idea of a +French lesson was something between a pantomime rally and a scrum at +football. To him there was something wonderfully entertaining in the +process of 'barging' the end man off the edge of the form into space, +and upsetting his books over him. M. Gerard, however, had a very +undeveloped sense of humour. He warned the humorist twice, and on the +thing happening a third time, suggested that he should go into extra +lesson on the ensuing Wednesday. + +So Pillingshot went, and copied out Virgil. + +He emerged from the room of detention at a quarter past four. As he +came out into the grounds he espied in the middle distance somebody +being carried on a stretcher in the direction of the School House. At +the same moment Parker loomed in sight, walking swiftly towards the +School shop, his mobile features shining with the rapt expression of +one who sees much ginger-beer in the near future. + +'Hullo, Parker,' said Pillingshot, 'who's the corpse?' + +'What, haven't you heard?' said Parker. 'Oh, no, of course, you were in +extra. It's young Brown. He's stunned or something.' + +'How did it happen?' + +'That rotter, Babington, in Dacre's. Simply slamming about, you know, +getting his eye in before going in, and Brown walked slap into one of +his drives. Got him on the side of the head.' + +'Much hurt?' + +'Oh, no, I don't think so. Keep him out of school for about a week.' + +'Lucky beast. Wish somebody would come and hit me on the head. Come +and hit me on the head, Parker.' + +'Come and have an ice,' said Parker. + +'Right-ho,' said Pillingshot. It was one of his peculiarities, that +whatever the hour or the state of the weather, he was always equal to +consuming an ice. This was probably due to genius. He had an infinite +capacity for taking pains. Scarcely was he outside the promised ice +when another misfortune came upon him. Scott, of the First Eleven, +entered the shop. Pillingshot liked Scott, but he was not blind to +certain flaws in the latter's character. For one thing, he was too +energetic. For another, he could not keep his energy to himself. He was +always making Pillingshot do things. And Pillingshot's notion of the +ideal life was complete _dolce far niente_. + +'Ginger-beer, please,' said Scott, with parched lips. He had been +bowling at the nets, and the day was hot. 'Hullo! Pillingshot, you +young slacker, why aren't you changed? Been bunking half-holiday games? +You'd better reform, young man.' + +'I've been in extra,' said Pillingshot, with dignity. + +'How many times does that make this term? You're going for the record, +aren't you? Jolly sporting of you. Bit slow in there, wasn't it? +'Nother ginger-beer, please.' + +'Just a bit,' said Pillingshot. + +'I thought so. And now you're dying for some excitement. Of course you +are. Well, cut over to the House and change, and then come back and +field at the nets. The man Yorke is going to bowl me some of his +celebrated slow tosh, and I'm going to show him exactly how Jessop does +it when he's in form.' + +Scott was the biggest hitter in the School. Mr Yorke was one of the +masters. He bowled slow leg-breaks, mostly half-volleys and long hops. +Pillingshot had a sort of instinctive idea that fielding out in the +deep with Mr Yorke bowling and Scott batting would not contribute +largely to the gaiety of his afternoon. Fielding deep at the nets meant +that you stood in the middle of the football field, where there was no +telling what a ball would do if it came at you along the ground. If you +were lucky you escaped without injury. Generally, however, the ball +bumped and deprived you of wind or teeth, according to the height to +which it rose. He began politely, but firmly, to excuse himself. + +'Don't talk rot,' said Scott, complainingly, 'you must have some +exercise or you'll go getting fat. Think what a blow it would be to +your family, Pillingshot, if you lost your figure. Buck up. If you're +back here in a quarter of an hour you shall have another ice. A large +ice, Pillingshot, price sixpence. Think of it.' + +The word ice, as has been remarked before, touched chords in +Pillingshot's nature to which he never turned a deaf ear. Within the +prescribed quarter of an hour he was back again, changed. + +'Here's the ice,' said Scott, 'I've been keeping it warm for you. +Shovel it down. I want to be starting for the nets. Quicker, man, +quicker! Don't roll it round your tongue as if it was port. Go for it. +Finished? That's right. Come on.' + +Pillingshot had not finished, but Scott so evidently believed that he +had, that it would have been unkind to have mentioned the fact. He +followed the smiter to the nets. + +If Pillingshot had passed the earlier part of the afternoon in a +sedentary fashion, he made up for it now. Scott was in rare form, and +Pillingshot noticed with no small interest that, while he invariably +hit Mr Yorke's deliveries a quarter of a mile or so, he never hit two +balls in succession in the same direction. As soon as the panting +fieldsman had sprinted to one side of the football ground and returned +the ball, there was a beautiful, musical _plonk_, and the ball +soared to the very opposite quarter of the field. It was a fine +exhibition of hitting, but Pillingshot felt that he would have enjoyed +it more if he could have watched it from a deck-chair. + +'You're coming on as a deep field, young Pillingshot,' said Scott, as +he took off his pads. 'You've got a knack of stopping them with your +stomach, which the best first-class fields never have. You ought to +give lessons at it. Now we'll go and have some tea.' + +If Pillingshot had had a more intimate acquaintance with the classics, +he would have observed at this point, '_Timeo Danaos_', and made a +last dash for liberty in the direction of the shop. But he was deceived +by the specious nature of Scott's remark. Visions rose before his eyes +of sitting back in one of Scott's armchairs, watching a fag toasting +muffins, which he would eventually dispatch with languid enjoyment. So +he followed Scott to his study. The classical parallel to his situation +is the well-known case of the oysters. They, too, were eager for the +treat. + +They had reached the study, and Pillingshot was about to fling himself, +with a sigh of relief, into the most comfortable chair, when Scott +unmasked his batteries. + +'Oh, by the way,' he said, with a coolness which to Pillingshot +appeared simply brazen, 'I'm afraid my fag won't be here today. The +young crock's gone and got mumps, or the plague, or something. So would +you mind just lighting that stove? It'll be rather warm, but that won't +matter. There are some muffins in the cupboard. You might weigh in with +them. You'll find the toasting-fork on the wall somewhere. It's hanging +up. Got it? Good man. Fire away.' + +And Scott collected five cushions, two chairs, and a tin of mixed +biscuits, and made himself comfortable. Pillingshot, with feelings too +deep for words (in the then limited state of his vocabulary), did as he +was requested. There was something remarkable about the way Scott could +always get people to do things for him. He seemed to take everything +for granted. If he had had occasion to hire an assassin to make away +with the German Emperor, he would have said, 'Oh, I say, you might run +over to Germany and kill the Kaiser, will you, there's a good chap? +Don't be long.' And he would have taken a seat and waited, without the +least doubt in his mind that the thing would be carried through as +desired. + +Pillingshot had just finished toasting the muffins, when the door +opened, and Venables, of Merevale's, came in. + +'I thought I heard you say something about tea this afternoon, Scott,' +said Venables. 'I just looked in on the chance. Good Heavens, man! +Fancy muffins at this time of year! Do you happen to know what the +thermometer is in the shade?' + +'Take a seat,' said Scott. 'I attribute my entire success in life +to the fact that I never find it too hot to eat muffins. Do you +know Pillingshot? One of the hottest fieldsmen in the School. +At least, he was just now. He's probably cooled off since then. +Venables--Pillingshot, and _vice versa_. Buck up with the tea, +Pillingshot. What, ready? Good man. Now we might almost begin.' + +'Beastly thing that accident of young Brown's, wasn't it?' said Scott. +'Chaps oughtn't to go slamming about like that with the field full of +fellows. I suppose he won't be right by next Saturday?' + +'Not a chance. Why? Oh, yes, I forgot. He was to have scored for the +team at Windybury, wasn't he?' + +'Who are you going to get now?' + +Venables was captain of the St Austin's team. The match next Saturday +was at Windybury, on the latter's ground. + +'I haven't settled,' said Venables. 'But it's easy to get somebody. +Scoring isn't one of those things which only one chap in a hundred +understands.' + +Then Pillingshot had an idea--a great, luminous idea. + +'May I score?' he asked, and waited trembling with apprehension lest +the request be refused. + +'All right,' said Venables, 'I don't see any reason why you shouldn't. +We have to catch the 8.14 at the station. Don't you go missing it or +anything.' + +'Rather _not_,' said Pillingshot. 'Not much.' + + * * * * * + +On Saturday morning, at exactly 9.15, Mr Mellish distributed the Livy +papers. When he arrived at Pillingshot's seat and found it empty, an +expression passed over his face like unto that of the baffled villain +in transpontine melodrama. + +'Where is Pillingshot?' he demanded tragically. 'Where is he?' + +'He's gone with the team to Windybury, sir,' said Parker, struggling to +conceal a large size in grins. 'He's going to score.' + +'No,' said Mr Mellish sadly to himself, 'he _has_ scored.' + + + + +[2] + +THE ODD TRICK + + +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 +that Graham's post was no sinecure. It was Harrison's custom to throw +off his mask at night with his other garments, and appear in his true +character of an abandoned villain, willing to stick at nothing as long +as he could do it strictly incog. In this capacity he had come into +constant contact with Graham. Even in the dark it is occasionally +possible for a prefect to tell where a noise comes from. And if the +said prefect has been harassed six days in the week by a noise, and +locates it suddenly on the seventh, it is wont to be bad for the +producer and patentee of same. + +And so it came about that Harrison, enjoying himself one night, after +the manner of his kind, was suddenly dropped upon with violence. He had +constructed an ingenious machine, consisting of a biscuit tin, some +pebbles, and some string. He put the pebbles in the tin, tied the +string to it, and placed it under a chest of drawers. Then he took the +other end of the string to bed with him, and settled down to make a +night of it. At first all went well. Repeated inquiries from Tony +failed to produce the author of the disturbance, and when finally the +questions ceased, and the prefect appeared to have given the matter up +as a bad job, P. St H. Harrison began to feel that under certain +circumstances life was worth living. It was while he was in this happy +frame of mind that the string, with which he had just produced a +triumphant rattle from beneath the chest of drawers, was seized, and +the next instant its owner was enjoying the warmest minute of a +chequered career. Tony, like Brer Rabbit, had laid low until he was +certain of the direction from which the sound proceeded. He had then +slipped out of bed, crawled across the floor in a snake-like manner +which would have done credit to a Red Indian, found the tin, and traced +the string to its owner. Harrison emerged from the encounter feeling +sore and unfit for any further recreation. This deed of the night left +its impression on Harrison. The account had to be squared somehow, and +in a few days his chance came. Merevale's were playing a 'friendly' +with the School House, and in default of anybody better, Harrison had +been pressed into service as umpire. This in itself had annoyed him. +Cricket was not in his line--he was not one of your flannelled +fools--and of all things in connection with the game he loathed +umpiring most. + +When, however, Tony came on to bowl at his end, _vice_ Charteris, +who had been hit for three fours in an over by Scott, the School +slogger, he recognized that even umpiring had its advantages, and +resolved to make the most of the situation. + +Scott had the bowling, and he lashed out at Tony's first ball in his +usual reckless style. There was an audible click, and what the sporting +papers call confident appeals came simultaneously from Welch, +Merevale's captain, who was keeping wicket, and Tony himself. Even +Scott seemed to know that his time had come. He moved a step or two +away from the wicket, but stopped before going farther to look at the +umpire, on the off-chance of a miracle happening to turn his decision +in the batsman's favour. + +The miracle happened. + +'Not out,' said Harrison. + +'Awfully curious,' he added genially to Tony, 'how like a bat those +bits of grass sound! You have to be jolly smart to know where a noise +comes from, don't you!' + +Tony grunted disgustedly, and walked back again to the beginning of his +run. + +If ever, in the whole history of cricket, a man was out +leg-before-wicket, Scott was so out to Tony's second ball. It was +hardly worth appealing for such a certainty. Still, the formality had +to be gone through. + +'How was _that_?' inquired Tony. + +'Not out. It's an awful pity, don't you think, that they don't bring in +that new leg-before rule?' + +'Seems to me,' said Tony bitterly, 'the old rule holds pretty good when +a man's leg's bang in front.' + +'Rather. But you see the ball didn't pitch straight, and the rule +says--' + +'Oh, all right,' said Tony. + +The next ball Scott hit for four, and the next after that for a couple. +The fifth was a yorker, and just grazed the leg stump. The sixth was a +beauty. You could see it was going to beat the batsman from the moment +it left Tony's hand. Harrison saw it perfectly. + +'No ball,' he shouted. And just as he spoke Scott's off-stump +ricocheted towards the wicket-keeper. + +'Heavens, man,' said Tony, fairly roused out of his cricket manners, a +very unusual thing for him. 'I'll swear my foot never went over the +crease. Look, there's the mark.' + +'Rather not. Only, you see, it seemed to me you chucked that time. Of +course, I know you didn't mean to, and all that sort of thing, but +still, the rules--' + +Tony would probably have liked to have said something very forcible +about the rules at this point, but it occurred to him that after all +Harrison was only within his rights, and that it was bad form to +dispute the umpire's decision. Harrison walked off towards square-leg +with a holy joy. + +But he was too much of an artist to overdo the thing. Tony's next over +passed off without interference. Possibly, however, this was because it +was a very bad one. After the third over he asked Welch if he could get +somebody else to umpire, as he had work to do. Welch heaved a sigh of +relief, and agreed readily. + +'Conscientious sort of chap that umpire of yours,' said Scott to Tony, +after the match. Scott had made a hundred and four, and was feeling +pleased. 'Considering he's in your House, he's awfully fair.' + +'You mean that we generally swindle, I suppose?' + +'Of course not, you rotter. You know what I mean. But, I say, that +catch Welch and you appealed for must have been a near thing. I could +have sworn I hit it.' + +'Of course you did. It was clean out. So was the lbw. I say, did you +think that ball that bowled you was a chuck? That one in my first over, +you know.' + +'Chuck! My dear Tony, you don't mean to say that man pulled you up for +chucking? I thought your foot must have gone over the crease.' + +'I believe the chap's mad,' said Tony. + +'Perhaps he's taking it out of you this way for treading on his corns +somehow. Have you been milling with this gentle youth lately?' + +'By Jove,' said Tony, 'you're right. I gave him beans only the other +night for ragging in the dormitory.' + +Scott laughed. + +'Well, he seems to have been getting a bit of his own back today. Lucky +the game was only a friendly. Why will you let your angry passions +rise, Tony? You've wrecked your analysis by it, though it's improved my +average considerably. I don't know if that's any solid satisfaction to +you.' + +'It isn't.' + +'You don't say so! Well, so long. If I were you, I should keep an eye +on that conscientious umpire.' + +'I will,' said Tony. 'Good-night.' + +The process of keeping an eye on Harrison brought no results. When he +wished to behave himself well, he could. On such occasions Sandford and +Merton were literally not in it with him, and the hero of a +Sunday-school story would simply have refused to compete. But Nemesis, +as the poets tell us, though no sprinter, manages, like the celebrated +Maisie, to get right there in time. Give her time, and she will arrive. +She arrived in the case of Harrison. One morning, about a fortnight +after the House-match incident, Harrison awoke with a new sensation. At +first he could not tell what exactly this sensation was, and being too +sleepy to discuss nice points of internal emotion with himself, was +just turning over with the intention of going to sleep again, when the +truth flashed upon him. The sensation he felt was loneliness, and the +reason he felt lonely was because he was the only occupant of the +dormitory. To right and left and all around were empty beds. + +As he mused drowsily on these portents, the distant sound of a bell +came to his ears and completed the cure. It was the bell for chapel. He +dragged his watch from under his pillow, and looked at it with +consternation. Four minutes to seven. And chapel was at seven. Now +Harrison had been late for chapel before. It was not the thought of +missing the service that worried him. What really was serious was that +he had been late so many times before that Merevale had hinted at +serious steps to be taken if he were late again, or, at any rate, until +a considerable interval of punctuality had elapsed. + +That threat had been uttered only yesterday, and here he was in all +probability late once more. + +There was no time to dress. He sprang out of bed, passed a sponge over +his face as a concession to the decencies, and looked round for +something to cover his night-shirt, which, however suitable for +dormitory use, was, he felt instinctively, scarcely the garment to wear +in public. + +Fate seemed to fight for him. On one of the pegs in the wall hung a +mackintosh, a large, blessed mackintosh. He was inside it in a moment. + +Four minutes later he rushed into his place in chapel. + +The short service gave him some time for recovering himself. He left +the building feeling a new man. His costume, though quaint, would not +call for comment. Chapel at St Austin's was never a full-dress +ceremony. Mackintoshes covering night-shirts were the rule rather than +the exception. + +But between his costume and that of the rest there was this subtle +distinction. They wore their own mackintoshes. He wore somebody else's. + +The bulk of the School had split up into sections, each section making +for its own House, and Merevale's was already in sight, when Harrison +felt himself grasped from behind. He turned, to see Graham. + +'Might I ask,' enquired Tony with great politeness, 'who said you might +wear my mackintosh?' + +Harrison gasped. + +'I suppose you didn't know it was mine?' + +'No, no, rather not. I didn't know.' + +'And if you had known it was mine, you wouldn't have taken it, I +suppose?' + +'Oh no, of course not,' said Harrison. Graham seemed to be taking an +unexpectedly sensible view of the situation. + +'Well,' said Tony, 'now that you know that it is mine, suppose you give +it up.' + +'Give it up!' + +'Yes; buck up. It looks like rain, and I mustn't catch cold.' + +'But, Graham, I've only got on--' + +'Spare us these delicate details. Mack up, please, I want it.' + +Finally, Harrison appearing to be difficult in the matter, Tony took +the garment off for him, and went on his way. + +Harrison watched him go with mixed feelings. Righteous indignation +struggled with the gravest apprehension regarding his own future. If +Merevale should see him! Horrible thought. He ran. He had just reached +the House, and was congratulating himself on having escaped, when the +worst happened. At the private entrance stood Merevale, and with him +the Headmaster himself. They both eyed him with considerable interest +as he shot in at the boys' entrance. + +'Harrison,' said Merevale after breakfast. + +'Yes, sir?' + +'The Headmaster wishes to see you--again.' + +'Yes, sir,' said Harrison. + +There was a curious lack of enthusiasm in his voice. + + + + +[3] + +L'AFFAIRE UNCLE JOHN +(_A Story in Letters_) + + + +I + +From Richard Venables, of St Austin's School, to his brother Archibald +Venables, of King's College, Cambridge: + +Dear Archie--I take up my pen to write to you, not as one hoping for an +answer, but rather in order that (you notice the Thucydidean +construction) I may tell you of an event the most important of those +that have gone before. You may or may not have heard far-off echoes of +my adventure with Uncle John, who has just come back from the +diamond-mines--and looks it. It happened thusly: + +Last Wednesday evening I was going through the cricket field to meet +Uncle John, at the station, as per esteemed favour from the governor, +telling me to. Just as I got on the scene, to my horror, amazement, and +disgust, I saw a middle-aged bounder, in loud checks, who, from his +looks, might have been anything from a retired pawnbroker to a +second-hand butler, sacked from his last place for stealing the +sherry, standing in the middle of the field, on the very wicket the +Rugborough match is to be played on next Saturday (tomorrow), and +digging--_digging_--I'll trouble you. Excavating great chunks of +our best turf with a walking-stick. I was so unnerved, I nearly +fainted. It's bad enough being captain of a School team under any +circs., as far as putting you off your game goes, but when you see the +wicket you've been rolling by day, and dreaming about by night, being +mangled by an utter stranger--well! They say a cow is slightly +irritated when her calf is taken away from her, but I don't suppose the +most maternal cow that ever lived came anywhere near the frenzy that +surged up in my bosom at that moment. I flew up to him, foaming at the +mouth. 'My dear sir,' I shrieked, '_are_ you aware that you're +spoiling the best wicket that has ever been prepared since cricket +began?' He looked at me, in a dazed sort of way, and said, 'What?' I +said: 'How on earth do you think we're going to play Rugborough on a +ploughed field?' 'I don't follow, mister,' he replied. A man who calls +you 'mister' is beyond the pale. You are justified in being a little +rude to him. So I said: 'Then you must be either drunk or mad, and I +trust it's the latter.' I believe that's from some book, though I don't +remember which. This did seem to wake him up a bit, but before he could +frame his opinion in words, up came Biffen, the ground-man, to have a +last look at his wicket before retiring for the night. When he saw the +holes--they were about a foot deep, and scattered promiscuously, just +where two balls out of three pitch--he almost had hysterics. I gently +explained the situation to him, and left him to settle with my friend +of the check suit. Biffen was just settling down to a sort of Philippic +when I went, and I knew that I had left the man in competent hands. +Then I went to the station. The train I had been told to meet was the +5.30. By the way, of course, I didn't know in the least what Uncle John +was like, not having seen him since I was about one-and-a-half, but I +had been told to look out for a tall, rather good-looking man. Well, +the 5.30 came in all right, but none of the passengers seemed to answer +to the description. The ones who were tall were not good looking, and +the only man who was good looking stood five feet nothing in his boots. +I did ask him if he was Mr John Dalgliesh; but, his name happening to +be Robinson, he could not oblige. I sat out a couple more trains, and +then went back to the field. The man had gone, but Biffen was still +there. 'Was you expecting anyone today, sir?' he asked, as I came up. +'Yes. Why?' I said. 'That was 'im,' said Biffen. By skilful +questioning, I elicited the whole thing. It seems that the fearsome +bargee, in checks, was the governor's 'tall, good-looking man'; in +other words, Uncle John himself. He had come by the 4.30, I suppose. +Anyway, there he was, and I had insulted him badly. Biffen told me that +he had asked who I was, and that he (Biffen) had given the information, +while he was thinking of something else to say to him about his +digging. By the way, I suppose he dug from force of habit. Thought he'd +find diamonds, perhaps. When Biffen told him this, he said in a nasty +voice: 'Then, when he comes back will you have the goodness to tell him +that my name is John Dalgliesh, and that he will hear more of this.' +And I'm uncommonly afraid I shall. The governor bars Uncle John +awfully, I know, but he wanted me to be particularly civil to him, +because he was to get me a place in some beastly firm when I leave. I +haven't heard from home yet, but I expect to soon. Still, I'd like to +know how I could stand and watch him ruining the wicket for our spot +match of the season. As it is, it won't be as good as it would have +been. The Rugborough slow man will be unplayable if he can find one of +these spots. Altogether, it's a beastly business. Write soon, though I +know you won't--Yours ever, _Dick_ + + + +II + +Telegram from Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G., to +his son Richard Venables: + +Venables, St Austin's. What all this about Uncle John. Says were +grossly rude. Write explanation next post--_Venables_. + + + +III + +Letter from Mrs James Anthony (nee Miss Dorothy Venables) to her +brother Richard Venables: + +Dear Dick--What _have_ you been doing to Uncle John? Jim and I are +stopping for a fortnight with father, and have just come in for the +whole thing. Uncle John--_isn't_ he a horrible man?--says you were +grossly insolent to him when he went down to see you. _Do_ write +and tell me all about it. I have heard no details as yet. Father +refuses to give them, and gets simply _furious_ when the matter is +mentioned. Jim said at dinner last night that a conscientious boy would +probably feel bound to be rude to Uncle John. Father said 'Conscience +be--'; I forget the rest, but it was awful. Jim says if he gets any +worse we shall have to sit on his head, and cut the traces. He is +getting so dreadfully _horsey_. Do write the very minute you get +this. I want to know all about it.--Your affectionate sister, _Dorothy_ + + + +IV + +Part of Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his father +Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.: + +... So you see it was really his fault. The Emperor of Germany has no +right to come and dig holes in our best wicket. Take a parallel case. +Suppose some idiot of a fellow (not that Uncle John's that, of course, +but you know what I mean) came and began rooting up your azaleas. +Wouldn't you want to say something cutting? I will apologize to Uncle +John, if you like; but still, I do think he might have gone somewhere +else if he really wanted to dig. So you see, etc., etc. + + + +V + +Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his sister Mrs James +Anthony: + +Dear Dolly--Thanks awfully for your letter, and thank Jim for his +message. He's a ripper. I'm awfully glad you married him and not that +rotter, Thompson, who used to hang on so. I hope the most marvellous +infant on earth is flourishing. And now about Uncle John. Really, I am +jolly glad I did say all that to him. We played Rugborough yesterday, +and the wicket was simply vile. They won the toss, and made two hundred +and ten. Of course, the wicket was all right at one end, and that's +where they made most of their runs. I was wicket-keeping as usual, and +I felt awfully ashamed of the beastly pitch when their captain asked me +if it was the football-field. Of course, he wouldn't have said that if +he hadn't been a pal of mine, but it was probably what the rest of the +team thought, only they were too polite to say so. When we came to bat +it was worse than ever. I went in first with Welch--that's the fellow +who stopped a week at home a few years ago; I don't know whether you +remember him. He got out in the first over, caught off a ball that +pitched where Uncle John had been prospecting, and jumped up. It was +rotten luck, of course, and worse was to follow, for by half-past five +we had eight wickets down for just over the hundred, and only young +Scott, who's simply a slogger, and another fellow to come in. Well, +Scott came in. I had made about sixty then, and was fairly well +set--and he started simply mopping up the bowling. He gave a chance +every over as regular as clockwork, and it was always missed, and then +he would make up for it with two or three tremendous whangs--a safe +four every time. It wasn't batting. It was more like golf. Well, this +went on for some time, and we began to get hopeful again, having got a +hundred and eighty odd. I just kept up my wicket, while Scott hit. Then +he got caught, and the last man, a fellow called Moore, came in. I'd +put him in the team as a bowler, but he could bat a little, too, on +occasions, and luckily this was one of them. There were only eleven to +win, and I had the bowling. I was feeling awfully fit, and put their +slow man clean over the screen twice running, which left us only three +to get. Then it was over, and Moore played the fast man in grand style, +though he didn't score. Well, I got the bowling again, and half-way +through the over I carted a half-volley into the Pav., and that gave us +the match. Moore hung on for a bit and made about ten, and then got +bowled. We made 223 altogether, of which I had managed to get +seventy-eight, not out. It pulls my average up a good bit. Rather +decent, isn't it? The fellows rotted about a good deal, and chaired me +into the Pav., but it was Scott who won us the match, I think. He made +ninety-four. But Uncle John nearly did for us with his beastly +walking-stick. On a good wicket we might have made any number. I don't +know how the affair will end. Keep me posted up in the governor's +symptoms, and write again soon.--Your affectionate brother, _Dick_ + +PS.--On looking over this letter, I find I have taken it for granted +that you know all about the Uncle John affair. Probably you do, but, in +case you don't, it was this way. You see, I was going, etc., etc. + + + +VI + +From Archibald Venables, of King's College, Cambridge, to Richard +Venables, of St Austin's: + +Dear Dick--Just a line to thank you for your letter, and to tell you +that since I got it I have had a visit from the great Uncle John, too. +He _is_ an outsider, if you like. I gave him the best lunch I +could in my rooms, and the man started a long lecture on extravagance. +He doesn't seem to understand the difference between the 'Varsity and a +private school. He kept on asking leading questions about pocket-money +and holidays, and wanted to know if my master allowed me to walk in the +streets in that waistcoat--a remark which cut me to the quick, 'that +waistcoat' being quite the most posh thing of the sort in Cambridge. He +then enquired after my studies; and, finally, when I saw him off at the +station, said that he had decided not to tip me, because he was afraid +that I was inclined to be extravagant. I was quite kind to him, +however, in spite of everything; but I was glad you had spoken to him +like a father. The recollection of it soothed me, though it seemed to +worry him. He talked a good deal about it. Glad you came off against +Rugborough.--Yours ever, _A. Venables_ + + + +VII + +From Mr John Dalgliesh to Mr Philip Mortimer, of Penge: + +Dear Sir--In reply to your letter of the 18th inst., I shall be happy +to recommend your son, Reginald, for the vacant post in the firm of +Messrs Van Nugget, Diomonde, and Mynes, African merchants. I have +written them to that effect, and you will, doubtless, receive a +communication from them shortly.--I am, my dear sir, yours faithfully, +_J. Dalgliesh_ + + + +VIII + +From Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his father Major-General Sir +Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.: + +Dear Father--Uncle John writes, in answer to my apology, to say that no +apologies will meet the case; and that he has given his nomination in +that rotten City firm of his to a fellow called Mortimer. But rather a +decent thing has happened. There is a chap here I know pretty well, who +is the son of Lord Marmaduke Twistleton, and it appears that the dook +himself was down watching the Rugborough match, and liked my batting. +He came and talked to me after the match, and asked me what I was going +to do when I left, and I said I wasn't certain, and he said that, if I +hadn't anything better on, he could give me a place on his estate up in +Scotland, as a sort of land-agent, as he wanted a chap who could play +cricket, because he was keen on the game himself, and always had a lot +going on in the summer up there. So he says that, if I go up to the +'Varsity for three years, he can guarantee me the place when I come +down, with a jolly good screw and a ripping open-air life, with lots of +riding, and so on, which is just what I've always wanted. So, can I? +It's the sort of opportunity that won't occur again, and you know you +always said the only reason I couldn't go up to the 'Varsity was, that +it would be a waste of time. But in this case, you see, it won't, +because he wants me to go, and guarantees me the place when I come +down. It'll be awfully fine, if I may. I hope you'll see it.--Your +affectionate son, _Dick_ + +PS.--I think he's writing to you. He asked your address. I think Uncle +John's a rotter. I sent him a rattling fine apology, and this is how he +treats it. But it'll be all right if you like this land-agent idea. If +you like, you might wire your answer. + + + +IX + +Telegram from Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G., to +his son Richard Venables, of St Austin's: + +Venables, St Austin's. Very well.--_Venables_ + + + +X + +Extract from Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his +father Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.: + +... Thanks, awfully-- + +Extract from _The Austinian_ of October: + +The following O.A.s have gone into residence this year: At Oxford, J. +Scrymgeour, Corpus Christi; R. Venables, Trinity; K. Crespigny-Brown, +Balliol. + +Extract from the _Daily Mail_'s account of the 'Varsity match of +the following summer: + +... The St Austin's freshman, Venables, fully justified his inclusion by +scoring a stylish fifty-seven. He hit eight fours, and except for a +miss-hit in the slips, at 51, which Smith might possibly have secured +had he started sooner, gave nothing like a chance. Venables, it will be +remembered, played several good innings for Oxford in the earlier +matches, notably, his not out contribution of 103 against Sussex-- + + + + +[4] + +HARRISON'S SLIGHT ERROR + + +The one o'clock down express was just on the point of starting. The +engine-driver, with his hand on the lever, whiled away the moments, +like the watchman in _The Agamemnon_, by whistling. The guard +endeavoured to talk to three people at once. Porters flitted to and +fro, cleaving a path for themselves with trucks of luggage. The Usual +Old Lady was asking if she was right for some place nobody had ever +heard of. Everybody was saying good-bye to everybody else, and last, +but not least, P. St H. Harrison, of St Austin's, was strolling at a +leisurely pace towards the rear of the train. There was no need for him +to hurry. For had not his friend, Mace, promised to keep a corner-seat +for him while he went to the refreshment-room to lay in supplies? +Undoubtedly he had, and Harrison, as he watched the struggling crowd, +congratulated himself that he was not as other men. A corner seat in a +carriage full of his own particular friends, with plenty of provisions, +and something to read in case he got tired of talking--it would be +perfect. + +So engrossed was he in these reflections, that he did not notice that +from the opposite end of the platform a youth of about his own age was +also making for the compartment in question. The first intimation he +had of his presence was when the latter, arriving first at the door by +a short head, hurled a bag on to the rack, and sank gracefully into the +identical corner seat which Harrison had long regarded as his own +personal property. And to make matters worse, there was no other vacant +seat in the compartment. Harrison was about to protest, when the guard +blew his whistle. There was nothing for it but to jump in and argue the +matter out _en route_. Harrison jumped in, to be greeted instantly +by a chorus of nine male voices. 'Outside there! No room! Turn him +out!' said the chorus. Then the chorus broke up into its component +parts, and began to address him one by one. + +'You rotter, Harrison,' said Babington, of Dacre's, 'what do you come +barging in here for? Can't you see we're five aside already?' + +'Hope you've brought a sardine-opener with you, old chap,' said +Barrett, the peerless pride of Philpott's, ''cos we shall jolly well +need one when we get to the good old Junct-i-on. Get up into the rack, +Harrison, you're stopping the ventilation.' + +The youth who had commandeered Harrison's seat so neatly took another +unpardonable liberty at this point. He grinned. Not the timid, +deprecating smile of one who wishes to ingratiate himself with +strangers, but a good, six-inch grin right across his face. Harrison +turned on him savagely. + +'Look here,' he said, 'just you get out of that. What do you mean by +bagging my seat?' + +'Are you a director of this line?' enquired the youth politely. Roars +of applause from the interested audience. Harrison began to feel hot +and uncomfortable. + +'Or only the Emperor of Germany?' pursued his antagonist. + +More applause, during which Harrison dropped his bag of provisions, +which were instantly seized and divided on the share and share alike +system, among the gratified Austinians. + +'Look here, none of your cheek,' was the shockingly feeble retort which +alone occurred to him. The other said nothing. Harrison returned to the +attack. + +'Look here,' he said, 'are you going to get out, or have I got to make +you?' + +Not a word did his opponent utter. To quote the bard: 'The stripling +smiled.' To tell the truth, the stripling smiled inanely. + +The other occupants of the carriage were far from imitating his +reserve. These treacherous friends, realizing that, for those who were +themselves comfortably seated, the spectacle of Harrison standing up +with aching limbs for a journey of some thirty miles would be both +grateful and comforting, espoused the cause of the unknown with all the +vigour of which they were capable. + +'Beastly bully, Harrison,' said Barrett. 'Trying to turn the kid out of +his seat! Why can't you leave the chap alone? Don't you move, kid.' + +'Thanks,' said the unknown, 'I wasn't going to.' + +'Now you see what comes of slacking,' said Grey. 'If you'd bucked up +and got here in time you might have bagged this seat I've got. By Jove, +Harrison, you've no idea how comfortable it is in this corner.' + +'Punctuality,' said Babington, 'is the politeness of princes.' + +And again the unknown maddened Harrison with a 'best-on-record' grin. + +'But, I say, you chaps,' said he, determined as a last resource to +appeal to their better feelings (if any), 'Mace was keeping this seat +for me, while I went to get some grub. Weren't you, Mace?' He turned to +Mace for corroboration. To his surprise, Mace was nowhere to be seen. + +His sympathetic school-fellows grasped the full humour of the situation +as one man, and gave tongue once more in chorus. + +'You weed,' they yelled joyfully, 'you've got into the wrong carriage. +Mace is next door.' + +And then, with the sound of unquenchable laughter ringing in his ears, +Harrison gave the thing up, and relapsed into a disgusted silence. No +single word did he speak until the journey was done, and the carriage +emptied itself of its occupants at the Junction. The local train was in +readiness to take them on to St Austin's, and this time Harrison +managed to find a seat without much difficulty. But it was a bitter +moment when Mace, meeting him on the platform, addressed him as a +rotter, for that he had not come to claim the corner seat which he had +been reserving for him. They had had, said Mace, a rattling good time +coming down. What sort of a time had Harrison had in _his_ +carriage? Harrison's reply was not remarkable for its clearness. + +The unknown had also entered the local train. It was plain, therefore, +that he was coming to the School as a new boy. Harrison began to wonder +if, under these circumstances, something might not be done in the +matter by way of levelling up things. He pondered. When St Austin's +station was reached, and the travellers began to stream up the road +towards the College, he discovered that the newcomer was a member of +his own House. He was standing close beside him, and heard Babington +explaining to him the way to Merevale's. Merevale was Harrison's +House-master. + +It was two minutes after he had found out this fact that the Grand Idea +came to Harrison. He saw his way now to a revenge so artistic, so +beautifully simple, that it was with some difficulty that he restrained +himself from bursting into song. For two pins, he felt, he could have +done a cake-walk. + +He checked his emotion. He beat it steadily back, and quenched it. When +he arrived at Merevale's, he went first to the matron's room. 'Has +Venables come back yet?' he asked. + +Venables was the head of Merevale's House, captain of the School +cricket, wing three-quarter of the School Fifteen, and a great man +altogether. + +'Yes,' said the matron, 'he came back early this afternoon.' + +Harrison knew it. Venables always came back early on the last day of +the holidays. + +'He was upstairs a short while ago,' continued the matron. 'He was +putting his study tidy.' + +Harrison knew it. Venables always put his study tidy on the last day of +the holidays. He took a keen and perfectly justifiable pride in his +study, which was the most luxurious in the House. + +'Is he there now?' asked Harrison. + +'No. He has gone over to see the Headmaster.' + +'Thanks,' said Harrison, 'it doesn't matter. It wasn't anything +important.' + +He retired triumphant. Things were going excellently well for his +scheme. + +His next act was to go to the fags' room, where, as he had expected, he +found his friend of the train. Luck continued to be with him. The +unknown was alone. + +'Hullo!' said Harrison. + +'Hullo!' said the fellow-traveller. He had resolved to follow +Harrison's lead. If Harrison was bringing war, then war let it be. If, +however, his intentions were friendly, he would be friendly too. + +'I didn't know you were coming to Merevale's. It's the best House in +the School.' + +'Oh!' + +'Yes, for one thing, everybody except the kids has a study.' + +'What? Not really? Why, I thought we had to keep to this room. One of +the chaps told me so.' + +'Trying to green you, probably. You must look out for that sort of +thing. I'll show you the way to your study, if you like. Come along +upstairs.' + +'Thanks, awfully. It's awfully good of you,' said the gratified +unknown, and they went upstairs together. + +One of the doors which they passed on their way was open, disclosing to +view a room which, though bare at present, looked as if it might be +made exceedingly comfortable. + +'That's my den,' said Harrison. It was perhaps lucky that Graham, to +whom the room belonged, in fact, as opposed to fiction, did not hear +the remark. Graham and Harrison were old and tried foes. 'This is +yours.' Harrison pushed open another door at the end of the passage. + +His companion stared blankly at the Oriental luxury which met his eye. +'But, I say,' he said, 'are you sure? This seems to be occupied +already.' + +'Oh, no, that's all right,' said Harrison, airily. 'The chap who used +to be here left last term. He didn't know he was going to leave till it +was too late to pack up all his things, so he left his study as it was. +All you've got to do is to cart the things out into the passage and +leave them there. The Moke'll take 'em away.' + +The Moke was the official who combined in a single body the duties of +butler and bootboy at Merevale's House. 'Oh, right-ho!' said the +unknown, and Harrison left him. + +Harrison's idea was that when Venables returned and found an absolute +stranger placidly engaged in wrecking his carefully-tidied study, he +would at once, and without making inquiries, fall upon that absolute +stranger and blot him off the face of the earth. Afterwards it might +possibly come out that he, Harrison, had been not altogether +unconnected with the business, and then, he was fain to admit, there +might be trouble. But he was a youth who never took overmuch heed for +the morrow. Sufficient unto the day was his motto. And, besides, it was +distinctly worth risking. The main point, and the one with which alone +the House would concern itself, was that he had completely taken in, +scored off, and overwhelmed the youth who had done as much by him in +the train, and his reputation as one not to be lightly trifled with +would be restored to its former brilliance. Anything that might happen +between himself and Venables subsequently would be regarded as a purely +private matter between man and man, affecting the main point not at +all. + +About an hour later a small Merevalian informed Harrison that Venables +wished to see him in his study. He went. Experience had taught him that +when the Head of the House sent for him, it was as a rule as well to +humour his whim and go. He was prepared for a good deal, for he had +come to the conclusion that it was impossible for him to preserve his +incognito in the matter, but he was certainly not prepared for what he +saw. + +Venables and the stranger were seated in two armchairs, apparently on +the very best of terms with one another. And this, in spite of the fact +that these two armchairs were the only furniture left in the study. The +rest, as he had noted with a grin before he had knocked at the door, +was picturesquely scattered about the passage. + +'Hullo, Harrison,' said Venables, 'I wanted to see you. There seems to +have been a slight mistake somewhere. Did you tell my brother to shift +all the furniture out of the study?' + +Harrison turned a delicate shade of green. + +'Your--er--brother?' he gurgled. + +'Yes. I ought to have told you my brother was coming to the Coll. this +term. I told the Old Man and Merevale and the rest of the authorities. +Can't make out why I forgot you. Slipped my mind somehow. However, you +seem to have been doing the square thing by him, showing him round and +so on. Very good of you.' + +Harrison smiled feebly. Venables junior grinned. What seemed to +Harrison a mystery was how the brothers had managed to arrive at the +School at different times. The explanation of which was in reality very +simple. The elder Venables had been spending the last week of the +holidays with MacArthur, the captain of the St Austin's Fifteen, the +same being a day boy, suspended within a mile of the School. + +'But what I can't make out,' went on Venables, relentlessly, 'is this +furniture business. To the best of my knowledge I didn't leave suddenly +at the end of last term. I'll ask if you like, to make sure, but I +fancy you'll find you've been mistaken. Must have been thinking of +someone else. Anyhow, we thought you must know best, so we lugged all +the furniture out into the passage, and now it appears there's been a +mistake of sorts, and the stuff ought to be inside all the time. So +would you mind putting it back again? We'd help you, only we're going +out to the shop to get some tea. You might have it done by the time we +get back. Thanks, awfully.' + +Harrison coughed nervously, and rose to a point of order. + +'I was going out to tea, too,' he said. + +'I'm sorry, but I think you'll have to scratch the engagement,' said +Venables. + +Harrison made a last effort. + +'I'm fagging for Welch this term,' he protested. + +It was the rule at St Austin's that every fag had the right to refuse +to serve two masters. Otherwise there would have been no peace for that +down-trodden race. + +'That,' said Venables, 'ought to be awfully jolly for Welch, don't you +know, but as a matter of fact term hasn't begun yet. It doesn't start +till tomorrow. Weigh in.' + +Various feelings began to wage war beneath Harrison's Eton waistcoat. A +profound disinclination to undertake the suggested task battled briskly +with a feeling that, if he refused the commission, things might--nay, +would--happen. + +'Harrison,' said Venables gently, but with meaning, as he hesitated, +'do you know what it is to wish you had never been born?' + +And Harrison, with a thoughtful expression on his face, picked up a +photograph from the floor, and hung it neatly in its place over the +mantelpiece. + + + + +[5] + +BRADSHAW'S LITTLE STORY + + +The qualities which in later years rendered Frederick Wackerbath +Bradshaw so conspicuous a figure in connection with the now celebrated +affair of the European, African, and Asiatic Pork Pie and Ham Sandwich +Supply Company frauds, were sufficiently in evidence during his school +career to make his masters prophesy gloomily concerning his future. The +boy was in every detail the father of the man. There was the same +genial unscrupulousness, upon which the judge commented so bitterly +during the trial, the same readiness to seize an opportunity and make +the most of it, the same brilliance of tactics. Only once during those +years can I remember an occasion on which Justice scored a point +against him. I can remember it, because I was in a sense responsible +for his failure. And he can remember it, I should be inclined to think, +for other reasons. Our then Headmaster was a man with a straight eye +and a good deal of muscular energy, and it is probable that the +talented Frederick, in spite of the passage of years, has a tender +recollection of these facts. + +It was the eve of the Euripides examination in the Upper Fourth. +Euripides is not difficult compared to some other authors, but he does +demand a certain amount of preparation. Bradshaw was a youth who did +less preparation than anybody I have ever seen, heard of, or read of, +partly because he preferred to peruse a novel under the table during +prep., but chiefly, I think, because he had reduced cribbing in form to +such an exact science that he loved it for its own sake, and would no +sooner have come tamely into school with a prepared lesson than a +sportsman would shoot a sitting bird. It was not the marks that he +cared for. He despised them. What he enjoyed was the refined pleasure +of swindling under a master's very eye. At the trial the judge, who +had, so ran report, been himself rather badly bitten by the Ham +Sandwich Company, put the case briefly and neatly in the words, 'You +appear to revel in villainy for villainy's sake,' and I am almost +certain that I saw the beginnings of a gratified smile on Frederick's +expressive face as he heard the remark. The rest of our study--the +juniors at St Austin's pigged in quartettes--were in a state of +considerable mental activity on account of this Euripides examination. +There had been House-matches during the preceding fortnight, and +House-matches are not a help to study, especially if you are on the +very fringe of the cock-house team, as I was. By dint of practising +every minute of spare time, I had got the eleventh place for my +fielding. And, better still, I had caught two catches in the second +innings, one of them a regular gallery affair, and both off the +captain's bowling. It was magnificent, but it was not Euripides, and I +wished now that it had been. Mellish, our form-master, had an +unpleasant habit of coming down with both feet, as it were, on members +of his form who failed in the book-papers. + +We were working, therefore, under forced draught, and it was distinctly +annoying to see the wretched Bradshaw lounging in our only armchair +with one of Rider Haggard's best, seemingly quite unmoved at the +prospect of Euripides examinations. For all he appeared to care, +Euripides might never have written a line in his life. + +Kendal voiced the opinion of the meeting. + +'Bradshaw, you worm,' he said. 'Aren't you going to do _any_ +work?' + +'Think not. What's the good? Can't get up a whole play of Euripides in +two hours.' + +'Mellish'll give you beans.' + +'Let him.' + +'You'll get a jolly bad report.' + +'Shan't get a report at all. I always intercept it before my guardian +can get it. He never says anything.' + +'Mellish'll probably run you in to the Old Man,' said White, the fourth +occupant of the study. + +Bradshaw turned on us with a wearied air. + +'Oh, do give us a rest,' he said. 'Here you are just going to do a most +important exam., and you sit jawing away as if you were paid for it. +Oh, I say, by the way, who's setting the paper tomorrow?' + +'Mellish, of course,' said White. + +'No, he isn't,' I said. 'Shows what a lot you know about it. Mellish is +setting the Livy paper.' + +'Then, who's doing this one?' asked Bradshaw. + +'Yorke.' + +Yorke was the master of the Upper Fifth. He generally set one of the +upper fourth book-papers. + +'Certain?' said Bradshaw. + +'Absolutely.' + +'Thanks. That's all I wanted to know. By Jove, I advise you chaps to +read this. It's grand. Shall I read out this bit about a fight?' + +'No!' we shouted virtuously, all together, though we were dying to hear +it, and we turned once more to the loathsome inanities of the second +chorus. If we had been doing Homer, we should have felt more in touch +with Bradshaw. There's a good deal of similarity, when you come to +compare them, between Homer and Haggard. They both deal largely in +bloodshed, for instance. As events proved, the Euripides paper, like +many things which seem formidable at a distance, was not nearly so bad +as I had expected. I did a fair-to-moderate paper, and Kendal and White +both seemed satisfied with themselves. Bradshaw confessed without +emotion that he had only attempted the last half of the last question, +and on being pressed for further information, merely laughed +mysteriously, and said vaguely that it would be all right. + +It now became plain that he had something up his sleeve. We expressed a +unanimous desire to know what it was. + +'You might tell a chap,' I said. + +'Out with it, Bradshaw, or we'll lynch you,' added Kendal. + +Bradshaw, however, was not to be drawn. Much of his success in the +paths of crime, both at school and afterwards, was due to his secretive +habits. He never permitted accomplices. + +On the following Wednesday the marks were read out. Out of a possible +hundred I had obtained sixty--which pleased me very much indeed--White, +fifty-five, Kendal, sixty-one. The unspeakable Bradshaw's net total was +four. + +Mellish always read out bad marks in a hushed voice, expressive of +disgust and horror, but four per cent was too much for him. He shouted +it, and the form yelled applause, until Ponsonby came in from the Upper +Fifth next door with Mr Yorke's compliments, 'and would we recollect +that his form were trying to do an examination'. + +When order had been restored, Mellish settled his glasses and glared +through them at Bradshaw, who, it may be remarked, had not turned a +hair. + +'Bradshaw,' he said, 'how do you explain this?' + +It was merely a sighting shot, so to speak. Nobody was ever expected to +answer the question. Bradshaw, however, proved himself the exception to +the rule. + +'I can explain, sir,' he said, 'if I may speak to you privately +afterwards.' + +I have seldom seen anyone so astonished as Mellish was at these words. +In the whole course of his professional experience, he had never met +with a parallel case. It was hard on the poor man not to be allowed to +speak his mind about a matter of four per cent in a book-paper, but +what could he do? He could not proceed with his denunciation, for if +Bradshaw's explanation turned out a sufficient excuse, he would have to +withdraw it all again, and vast stores of golden eloquence would be +wasted. But, then, if he bottled up what he wished to say altogether, +it might do him a serious internal injury. At last he hit on a +compromise. He said, 'Very well, Bradshaw, I will hear what you have to +say,' and then sprang, like the cat in the poem, 'all claws', upon an +unfortunate individual who had scored twenty-nine, and who had been +congratulating himself that Bradshaw's failings would act as a sort of +lightning-conductor to him. Bradshaw worked off his explanation in +under five minutes. I tried to stay behind to listen, on the pretext of +wanting to tidy up my desk, but was ejected by request. Bradshaw +explained that his statement was private. + +After a time they came out together like long-lost brothers, Mellish +with his hand on Bradshaw's shoulder. It was some small comfort to me +to remember that Bradshaw had the greatest dislike to this sort of +thing. + +It was evident that Bradshaw, able exponent of the art of fiction that +he was, must have excelled himself on this occasion. I tried to get the +story out of him in the study that evening. White and Kendal assisted. +We tried persuasion first. That having failed, we tried taunts. Then we +tried kindness. Kendal sat on his legs, and I sat on his head, and +White twisted his arm. I think that we should have extracted something +soon, either his arm from its socket or a full confession, but we were +interrupted. The door flew open, and Prater (the same being our +House-master, and rather a good sort) appeared. + +'Now then, now then,' he said. Prater's manner is always abrupt. + +'What's this? I can't have this. I can't have this. Get up at once. +Where's Bradshaw?' + +I rose gracefully to my feet, thereby disclosing the classic features +of the lost one. + +'The Headmaster wants to see you at once, Bradshaw, at the School +House. You others had better find something to do, or you will be +getting into trouble.' + +He and Bradshaw left together, while we speculated on the cause of the +summons. + +We were not left very long in suspense. In a quarter of an hour +Bradshaw returned, walking painfully, and bearing what, to the expert's +eye, are the unmistakable signs of a 'touching up', which, being +interpreted, is corporal punishment. + +'Hullo,' said White, as he appeared, 'what's all this?' + +'How many?' enquired the statistically-minded Kendal. 'You'll be +thankful for this when you're a man, Bradshaw.' + +'That's what I always say to myself when I'm touched up,' added Kendal. + +I said nothing, but it was to me that the wounded one addressed +himself. + +'You utter ass,' he said, in tones of concentrated venom. + +'Look here, Bradshaw--' I began, protestingly. + +'It's all through you--you idiot,' he snarled. 'I got twelve.' + +'Twelve isn't so dusty,' said White, critically. 'Most I ever got was +six.' + +'But why was it?' asked Kendal. 'That's what we want to know. What have +you been and gone and done?' + +'It's about that Euripides paper,' said Bradshaw. + +'Ah!' said Kendal. + +'Yes, I don't mind telling you about it now. When Mellish had me up +after school today, I'd got my yarn all ready. There wasn't a flaw in +it anywhere as far as I could see. My idea was this. I told him I'd +been to Yorke's room the day before the exam, to ask him if he had any +marks for us. That was all right. Yorke was doing the two Unseen +papers, and it was just the sort of thing a fellow would do to go and +ask him about the marks.' + +'Well?' + +'Then when I got there he was out, and I looked about for the marks, +and on the table I saw the Euripides paper.' + +'By Jove!' said Kendal. We began to understand, and to realize that +here was a master-mind. + +'Well, of course, I read it, not knowing what it was, and then, as the +only way of not taking an unfair advantage, I did as badly as I could +in the exam. That was what I told Mellish. Any beak would have +swallowed it.' + +'Well, didn't he?' + +'Mellish did all right, but the rotter couldn't keep it to himself. +Went and told the Old Man. The Old Man sent for me. He was as decent as +anything at first. That was just his guile. He made me describe exactly +where I had seen the paper, and so on. That was rather risky, of +course, but I put it as vaguely as I could. When I had finished, he +suddenly whipped round, and said, "Bradshaw, why are you telling me all +these lies?" That's the sort of thing that makes you feel rather a +wreck. I was too surprised to say anything.' + +'I can guess the rest,' said Kendal. 'But how on earth did he know it +was all lies? Why didn't you stick to your yarn?' + +'And, besides,' I put in, 'where do I come in? I don't see what I've +got to do with it.' + +Bradshaw eyed me fiercely. 'Why, the whole thing was your fault,' he +said. 'You told me Yorke was setting the paper.' + +'Well, so he did, didn't he?' + +'No, he didn't. The Old Man set it himself,' said Bradshaw, gloomily. + + + + +[6] + +A SHOCKING AFFAIR + + +The Bradshaw who appears in the following tale is the same youth who +figures as the hero--or villain, label him as you like--of the +preceding equally veracious narrative. I mention this because I should +not care for you to go away with the idea that a waistcoat marked with +the name of Bradshaw must of necessity cover a scheming heart. It may, +however, be noticed that a good many members of the Bradshaw family +possess a keen and rather sinister sense of the humorous, inherited +doubtless from their great ancestor, the dry wag who wrote that +monument of quiet drollery, _Bradshaw's Railway Guide_. So with +the hero of my story. + +Frederick Wackerbath Bradshaw was, as I have pointed out, my +contemporary at St Austin's. We were in the same House, and together we +sported on the green--and elsewhere--and did our best to turn the +majority of the staff of masters into confirmed pessimists, they in the +meantime endeavouring to do the same by us with every weapon that lay +to their hand. And the worst of these weapons were the end-of-term +examination papers. Mellish was our form-master, and once a term a +demon entered into Mellish. He brooded silently apart from the madding +crowd. He wandered through dry places seeking rest, and at intervals he +would smile evilly, and jot down a note on the back of an envelope. +These notes, collected and printed closely on the vilest paper, made up +the examination questions. + +Our form read two authors a term, one Latin and one Greek. It was the +Greek that we feared most. Mellish had a sort of genius for picking out +absolutely untranslatable passages, and desiring us (in print) to +render the same with full notes. This term the book had been +Thucydides, Book II, with regard to which I may echo the words of a +certain critic when called upon to give his candid opinion of a +friend's first novel, 'I dare not say what I think about that book.' + +About a week before the commencement of the examinations, the ordinary +night-work used to cease, and we were supposed, during that week, to be +steadily going over the old ground and arming ourselves for the +approaching struggle. There were, I suppose, people who actually did do +this, but for my own part I always used to regard those seven days as a +blessed period of rest, set apart specially to enable me to keep +abreast of the light fiction of the day. And most of the form, so far +as I know, thought the same. It was only on the night before the +examination that one began to revise in real earnest. One's methods on +that night resolved themselves into sitting in a chair and wondering +where to begin. Just as one came to a decision, it was bedtime. + +'Bradshaw,' I said, as I reached page 103 without having read a line, +'do you know any likely bits?' + +Bradshaw looked up from his book. He was attempting to get a general +idea of Thucydides' style by reading _Pickwick_. + +'What?' he said. + +I obliged with a repetition of my remark. + +'Likely bits? Oh, you mean for the Thucydides. I don't know. Mellish +never sets the bits any decent ordinary individual would set. I should +take my chance if I were you.' + +'What are you going to do?' + +'I'm going to read _Pickwick_. Thicksides doesn't come within a +mile of it.' + +I thought so too. + +'But how about tomorrow?' + +'Oh, I shan't be there,' he said, as if it were the most ordinary of +statements. + +'Not there! Why, have you been sacked?' + +This really seemed the only possible explanation. Such an event would +not have come as a surprise. It was always a matter for wonder to me +_why_ the authorities never sacked Bradshaw, or at the least +requested him to leave. Possibly it was another case of the ass and the +bundles of hay. They could not make up their minds which special +misdemeanour of his to attack first. + +'No, I've not been sacked,' said Bradshaw. + +A light dawned upon me. + +'Oh,' I said, 'you're going to slumber in.' For the benefit of the +uninitiated, I may mention that to slumber in is to stay in the House +during school on a pretence of illness. + +'That,' replied the man of mystery, with considerable asperity, 'is +exactly the silly rotten kid's idea that would come naturally to a +complete idiot like you.' + +As a rule, I resent being called a complete idiot, but this was not the +time for asserting one's personal dignity. I had to know what +Bradshaw's scheme for evading the examination was. Perhaps there might +be room for two in it; in which case I should have been exceedingly +glad to have lent my moral support to it. I pressed for an explanation. + +'You may jaw,' said Bradshaw at last, 'as much as you jolly well +please, but I'm not going to give this away. All you're going to know +is that I shan't be there tomorrow.' + +'I bet you are, and I bet you do a jolly rank paper too,' I said, +remembering that the sceptic is sometimes vouchsafed revelations to +which the most devout believer may not aspire. It is, for instance, +always the young man who scoffs at ghosts that the family spectre +chooses as his audience. But it required more than a mere sneer or an +empty gibe to pump information out of Bradshaw. He took me up at once. + +'What'll you bet?' he said. + +Now I was prepared to wager imaginary sums to any extent he might have +cared to name, but as my actual worldly wealth at that moment consisted +of one penny, and my expectations were limited to the shilling +pocket-money which I should receive on the following Saturday--half of +which was already mortgaged--it behoved me to avoid doing anything rash +with my ready money. But, since a refusal would have meant the downfall +of my arguments, I was obliged to name a figure. I named an even +sixpence. After all, I felt, I must win. By what means, other than +illness, could Bradshaw possibly avoid putting in an appearance at the +Thucydides examination? + +'All right,' said Bradshaw, 'an even sixpence. You'll lose.' + +'Slumbering in barred.' + +'Of course.' + +'Real illness barred too,' I said. Bradshaw is a man of resource, and +has been known to make himself genuinely ill in similar emergencies. + +'Right you are. Slumbering in and real illness both barred. Anything +else you'd like to bar?' + +I thought. + +'No. Unless--' an idea struck me--'You're not going to run away?' + +Bradshaw scorned to answer the question. + +'Now you'd better buck up with your work,' he said, opening his book +again. 'You've got about as long odds as anyone ever got. But you'll +lose all the same.' + +It scarcely seemed possible. And yet--Bradshaw was generally right. If +he said he had a scheme for doing--though it was generally for not +doing--something, it rarely failed to come off. I thought of my +sixpence, my only sixpence, and felt a distinct pang of remorse. After +all, only the other day the chaplain had said how wrong it was to bet. +By Jove, so he had. Decent man the chaplain. Pity to do anything he +would disapprove of. I was on the point of recalling my wager, when +before my mind's eye rose a vision of Bradshaw rampant and sneering, +and myself writhing in my chair a crushed and scored-off wreck. I drew +the line at that. I valued my self-respect at more than sixpence. If it +had been a shilling now--. So I set my teeth and turned once more to my +Thucydides. Bradshaw, having picked up the thread of his story again, +emitted hoarse chuckles like minute guns, until I very nearly rose and +fell upon him. It is maddening to listen to a person laughing and not +to know the joke. + +'You will be allowed two hours for this paper,' said Mellish on the +following afternoon, as he returned to his desk after distributing the +Thucydides questions. 'At five minutes to four I shall begin to collect +your papers, but those who wish may go on till ten past. Write only on +one side of the paper, and put your names in the top right-hand corner. +Marks will be given for neatness. Any boy whom I see looking at his +neighbour's--_where's Bradshaw?_' + +It was already five minutes past the hour. The latest of the late +always had the decency to appear at least by three minutes past. + +'Has anybody seen Bradshaw?' repeated Mellish. 'You, +what's-your-name--' (I am what's-your-name, very much at your +service) '--you are in his House. Have you seen him?' + +I could have pointed out with some pleasure at this juncture that if +Cain expressed indignation at being asked where his brother was, I, by +a simple sum in proportion, might with even greater justice feel +annoyed at having to locate a person who was no relative of mine at +all. Did Mr Mellish expect me to keep an eye on every member of my +House? Did Mr Mellish--in short, what did he mean by it? + +This was what I thought. I said, 'No, sir.' + +'This is extraordinary,' said Mellish, 'most extraordinary. Why, the +boy was in school this morning.' + +This was true. The boy had been in school that morning to some purpose, +having beaten all records (his own records) in the gentle sport of +Mellish-baiting. This evidently occurred to Mellish at the time, for he +dropped the subject at once, and told us to begin our papers. + +Now I have remarked already that I dare not say what I think of +Thucydides, Book II. How then shall I frame my opinion of that +examination paper? It was Thucydides, Book II, with the few easy parts +left out. It was Thucydides, Book II, with special home-made +difficulties added. It was--well, in its way it was a masterpiece. +Without going into details--I dislike sensational and realistic +writing--I may say that I personally was not one of those who required +an extra ten minutes to finish their papers. I finished mine at +half-past two, and amused myself for the remaining hour and a half by +writing neatly on several sheets of foolscap exactly what I thought of +Mr Mellish, and precisely what I hoped would happen to him some day. It +was grateful and comforting. + +At intervals I wondered what had become of Bradshaw. I was not +surprised at his absence. At first I had feared that he would keep his +word in that matter. As time went on I knew that he would. At more +frequent intervals I wondered how I should enjoy being a bankrupt. + +Four o'clock came round, and found me so engrossed in putting the +finishing touches to my excursus of Mr Mellish's character, that I +stayed on in the form-room till ten past. Two other members of the form +stayed too, writing with the despairing energy of those who had five +minutes to say what they would like to spread over five hours. At last +Mellish collected the papers. He seemed a trifle surprised when I gave +up my modest three sheets. Brown and Morrison, who had their eye on the +form prize, each gave up reams. Brown told me subsequently that he had +only had time to do sixteen sheets, and wanted to know whether I had +adopted Rutherford's emendation in preference to the old reading in +Question II. My prolonged stay had made him regard me as a possible +rival. + +I dwell upon this part of my story, because it has an important bearing +on subsequent events. If I had not waited in the form-room I should not +have gone downstairs just behind Mellish. And if I had not gone +downstairs just behind Mellish, I should not have been in at the death, +that is to say the discovery of Bradshaw, and this story would have +been all beginning and middle, and no ending, for I am certain that +Bradshaw would never have told me a word. He was a most secretive +animal. + +I went downstairs, as I say, just behind Mellish. St Austin's, you must +know, is composed of three blocks of buildings, the senior, the middle, +and the junior, joined by cloisters. We left the senior block by the +door. To the captious critic this information may seem superfluous, but +let me tell him that I have left the block in my time, and entered it, +too, though never, it is true, in the company of a master, in other +ways. There are windows. + +Our procession of two, Mellish leading by a couple of yards, passed +through the cloisters, and came to the middle block, where the Masters' +Common Room is. I had no particular reason for going to that block, but +it was all on my way to the House, and I knew that Mellish hated having +his footsteps dogged. That Thucydides paper rankled slightly. + +In the middle block, at the top of the building, far from the haunts of +men, is the Science Museum, containing--so I have heard, I have never +been near the place myself--two stuffed rats, a case of mouldering +butterflies, and other objects of acute interest. The room has a +staircase all to itself, and this was the reason why, directly I heard +shouts proceeding from that staircase, I deduced that they came from +the Museum. I am like Sherlock Holmes, I don't mind explaining my +methods. + +'Help!' shouted the voice. 'Help!' + +The voice was Bradshaw's. + +Mellish was talking to M. Gerard, the French master, at the moment. He +had evidently been telling him of Bradshaw's non-appearance, for at the +sound of his voice they both spun round, and stood looking at the +staircase like a couple of pointers. + +'Help,' cried the voice again. + +Mellish and Gerard bounded up the stairs. I had never seen a French +master run before. It was a pleasant sight. I followed. As we reached +the door of the Museum, which was shut, renewed shouts filtered through +it. Mellish gave tongue. + +'Bradshaw!' + +'Yes, sir,' from within. + +'Are you there?' This I thought, and still think, quite a superfluous +question. + +'Yes, sir,' said Bradshaw. + +'What are you doing in there, Bradshaw? Why were you not in school this +afternoon? Come out at once.' This in deep and thrilling tones. + +'Please, sir,' said Bradshaw complainingly, 'I can't open the door.' +Now, the immediate effect of telling a person that you are unable to +open a door is to make him try his hand at it. Someone observes that +there are three things which everyone thinks he can do better than +anyone else, namely poking a fire, writing a novel, and opening a door. + +Gerard was no exception to the rule. + +'Can't open the door?' he said. 'Nonsense, nonsense.' And, swooping at +the handle, he grasped it firmly, and turned it. + +At this point he made an attempt, a very spirited attempt, to lower the +world's record for the standing high jump. I have spoken above of the +pleasure it gave me to see a French master run. But for good, square +enjoyment, warranted free from all injurious chemicals, give me a +French master jumping. + +'My dear Gerard,' said the amazed Mellish. + +'I have received a shock. Dear me, I have received a most terrible +shock.' + +So had I, only of another kind. I really thought I should have expired +in my tracks with the effort of keeping my enjoyment strictly to +myself. I saw what had happened. The Museum is lit by electric light. +To turn it on one has to shoot the bolt of the door, which, like the +handle, is made of metal. It is on the killing two birds with one stone +principle. You lock yourself in and light yourself up with one +movement. It was plain that the current had gone wrong somehow, run +amock, as it were. Mellish meanwhile, instead of being warned by +Gerard's fate, had followed his example, and tried to turn the handle. +His jump, though quite a creditable effort, fell short of Gerard's by +some six inches. I began to feel as if some sort of round game were +going on. I hoped that they would not want me to take a hand. I also +hoped that the thing would continue for a good while longer. The +success of the piece certainly warranted the prolongation of its run. +But here I was disappointed. The disturbance had attracted another +spectator, Blaize, the science and chemistry master. The matter was +hastily explained to him in all its bearings. There was Bradshaw +entombed within the Museum, with every prospect of death by starvation, +unless he could support life for the next few years on the two stuffed +rats and the case of butterflies. The authorities did not see their way +to adding a human specimen (youth's size) to the treasures in the +Museum, _so_--how was he to be got out? + +The scientific mind is equal to every emergency. + +'Bradshaw,' shouted Blaize through the keyhole. + +'Sir?' + +'Are you there?' + +I should imagine that Bradshaw was growing tired of this question by +this time. Besides, it cast aspersions on the veracity of Gerard and +Mellish. Bradshaw, with perfect politeness, hastened to inform the +gentleman that he was there. + +'Have you a piece of paper?' + +'Will an envelope do, sir?' + +'Bless the boy, anything will do so long as it is paper.' + +Dear me, I thought, is it as bad as all that? Is Blaize, in despair of +ever rescuing the unfortunate prisoner, going to ask him to draw up a +'last dying words' document, to be pushed under the door and despatched +to his sorrowing guardian? + +'Put it over your hand, and then shoot back the bolt.' + +'But, sir, the electricity.' + +'Pooh, boy!' + +The scientific mind is always intolerant of lay ignorance. + +'Pooh, boy, paper is a non-conductor. You won't get hurt.' + +Bradshaw apparently acted on his instructions. From the other side of +the door came the sharp sound of the bolt as it was shot back, and at +the same time the light ceased to shine through the keyhole. A moment +later the handle turned, and Bradshaw stepped forth--free! + +'Dear me,' said Mellish. 'Now I never knew that before, Blaize. +Remarkable. But this ought to be seen to. In the meantime, I had better +ask the Headmaster to give out that the Museum is closed until further +notice, I think.' + +And closed the Museum has been ever since. That further notice has +never been given. And yet nobody seems to feel as if an essential part +of their life had ceased to be, so to speak. Curious. Bradshaw, after a +short explanation, was allowed to go away without a stain--that is to +say, without any additional stain--on his character. We left the +authorities discussing the matter, and went downstairs. + +'Sixpence isn't enough,' I said, 'take this penny. It's all I've got. +You shall have the sixpence on Saturday.' + +'Thanks,' said Bradshaw.' Was the Thucydides paper pretty warm?' + +'Warmish. But, I say, didn't you get a beastly shock when you locked +the door?' + +'I did the week before last, the first time I ever went to the place. +This time I was more or less prepared for it. Blaize seems to think +that paper dodge a special invention of his own. He'll be taking out a +patent for it one of these days. Why, every kid knows that paper +doesn't conduct electricity.' + +'I didn't,' I said honestly. + +'You don't know much,' said Bradshaw, with equal honesty. + +'I don't,' I replied. 'Bradshaw, you're a great man, but you missed the +best part of it all.' + +'What, the Thucydides paper?' asked he with a grin. + +'No, you missed seeing Gerard jump quite six feet.' + +Bradshaw's face expressed keen disappointment. + +'No, did he really? Oh, I say, I wish I'd seen it.' + +The moral of which is that the wicked do not always prosper. If +Bradshaw had not been in the Museum, he might have seen Gerard jump six +feet, which would have made him happy for weeks. On second thoughts, +though, that does not work out quite right, for if Bradshaw had not +been in the Museum, Gerard would not have jumped at all. No, better put +it this way. I was virtuous, and I had the pleasure of witnessing the +sight I have referred to. But then there was the Thucydides paper, +which Bradshaw missed but which I did not. No. On consideration, the +moral of this story shall be withdrawn and submitted to a committee of +experts. Perhaps they will be able to say what it is. + + + + +[7] + +THE BABE AND THE DRAGON + + +The annual inter-house football cup at St Austin's lay between Dacre's, +who were the holders, and Merevale's, who had been runner-up in the +previous year, and had won it altogether three times out of the last +five. The cup was something of a tradition in Merevale's, but of late +Dacre's had become serious rivals, and, as has been said before, were +the present holders. + +This year there was not much to choose between the two teams. Dacre's +had three of the First Fifteen and two of the Second; Merevale's two of +the First and four of the Second. St Austin's being not altogether a +boarding-school, many of the brightest stars of the teams were day +boys, and there was, of course, always the chance that one of these +would suddenly see the folly of his ways, reform, and become a member +of a House. + +This frequently happened, and this year it was almost certain to happen +again, for no less a celebrity than MacArthur, commonly known as the +Babe, had been heard to state that he was negotiating with his parents +to that end. Which House he would go to was at present uncertain. He +did not know himself, but it would, he said, probably be one of the two +favourites for the cup. This lent an added interest to the competition, +for the presence of the Babe would almost certainly turn the scale. The +Babe's nationality was Scots, and, like most Scotsmen, he could play +football more than a little. He was the safest, coolest centre +three-quarter the School had, or had had for some time. He shone in all +branches of the game, but especially in tackling. To see the Babe +spring apparently from nowhere, in the middle of an inter-school match, +and bring down with violence a man who had passed the back, was an +intellectual treat. Both Dacre's and Merevale's, therefore, yearned for +his advent exceedingly. The reasons which finally decided his choice +were rather curious. They arose in the following manner: + +The Babe's sister was at Girton. A certain Miss Florence Beezley was +also at Girton. When the Babe's sister revisited the ancestral home at +the end of the term, she brought Miss Beezley with her to spend a week. +What she saw in Miss Beezley was to the Babe a matter for wonder, but +she must have liked her, or she would not have gone out of her way to +seek her company. Be that as it may, the Babe would have gone a very +long way out of his way to avoid her company. He led a fine, healthy, +out-of-doors life during that week, and doubtless did himself a lot of +good. But times will occur when it is imperative that a man shall be +under the family roof. Meal-times, for instance. The Babe could not +subsist without food, and he was obliged, Miss Beezley or no Miss +Beezley, to present himself on these occasions. This, by the way, was +in the Easter holidays, so that there was no school to give him an +excuse for absence. + +Breakfast was a nightmare, lunch was rather worse, and as for dinner, +it was quite unspeakable. Miss Beezley seemed to gather force during +the day. It was not the actual presence of the lady that revolted the +Babe, for that was passable enough. It was her conversation that +killed. She refused to let the Babe alone. She was intensely learned +herself, and seemed to take a morbid delight in dissecting his +ignorance, and showing everybody the pieces. Also, she persisted in +calling him Mr MacArthur in a way that seemed somehow to point out and +emphasize his youthfulness. She added it to her remarks as a sort of +after-thought or echo. + +'Do you read Browning, Mr MacArthur?' she would say suddenly, having +apparently waited carefully until she saw that his mouth was full. + +The Babe would swallow convulsively, choke, blush, and finally say-- + +'No, not much.' + +'Ah!' This in a tone of pity not untinged with scorn. + +'When you say "not much", Mr MacArthur, what exactly do you mean? Have +you read any of his poems?' + +'Oh, yes, one or two.' + +'Ah! Have you read "Pippa Passes"?' + +'No, I think not.' + +'Surely you must know, Mr MacArthur, whether you have or not. Have you +read "Fifine at the Fair"?' + +'No.' + +'Have you read "Sordello"?' + +'No.' + +'What _have_ you read, Mr MacArthur?' + +Brought to bay in this fashion, he would have to admit that he had read +'The Pied Piper of Hamelin', and not a syllable more, and Miss Beezley +would look at him for a moment and sigh softly. The Babe's subsequent +share in the conversation, provided the Dragon made no further +onslaught, was not large. + +One never-to-be-forgotten day, shortly before the end of her visit, a +series of horrible accidents resulted in their being left to lunch +together alone. The Babe had received no previous warning, and when he +was suddenly confronted with this terrible state of affairs he almost +swooned. The lady's steady and critical inspection of his style of +carving a chicken completed his downfall. His previous experience of +carving had been limited to those entertainments which went by the name +of 'study-gorges', where, if you wanted to help a chicken, you took +hold of one leg, invited an accomplice to attach himself to the other, +and pulled. + +But, though unskilful, he was plucky and energetic. He lofted the bird +out of the dish on to the tablecloth twice in the first minute. +Stifling a mad inclination to call out 'Fore!' or something to that +effect, he laughed a hollow, mirthless laugh, and replaced the errant +fowl. When a third attack ended in the same way, Miss Beezley asked +permission to try what she could do. She tried, and in two minutes the +chicken was neatly dismembered. The Babe re-seated himself in an +over-wrought state. + +'Tell me about St Austin's, Mr MacArthur,' said Miss Beezley, as the +Babe was trying to think of something to say--not about the weather. +'Do you play football?' + +'Yes.' + +'Ah!' + +A prolonged silence. + +'Do you--' began the Babe at last. + +'Tell me--' began Miss Beezley, simultaneously. + +'I beg your pardon,' said the Babe; 'you were saying--?' + +'Not at all, Mr MacArthur. _You_ were saying--?' + +'I was only going to ask you if you played croquet?' + +'Yes; do you?' + +'No.' + +'Ah!' + +'If this is going to continue,' thought the Babe, 'I shall be +reluctantly compelled to commit suicide.' + +There was another long pause. + +'Tell me the names of some of the masters at St Austin's, Mr +MacArthur,' said Miss Beezley. She habitually spoke as if she were an +examination paper, and her manner might have seemed to some to verge +upon the autocratic, but the Babe was too thankful that the question +was not on Browning or the higher algebra to notice this. He reeled off +a list of names. + +'... Then there's Merevale--rather a decent sort--and Dacre.' + +'What sort of a man is Mr Dacre?' + +'Rather a rotter, I think.' + +'What is a rotter, Mr MacArthur?' + +'Well, I don't know how to describe it exactly. He doesn't play cricket +or anything. He's generally considered rather a crock.' + +'Really! This is very interesting, Mr MacArthur. And what is a crock? I +suppose what it comes to,' she added, as the Babe did his best to find +a definition, 'is this, that you yourself dislike him.' The Babe +admitted the impeachment. Mr Dacre had a finished gift of sarcasm which +had made him writhe on several occasions, and sarcastic masters are +rarely very popular. + +'Ah!' said Miss Beezley. She made frequent use of that monosyllable. It +generally gave the Babe the same sort of feeling as he had been +accustomed to experience in the happy days of his childhood when he had +been caught stealing jam. + +Miss Beezley went at last, and the Babe felt like a convict who has +just received a free pardon. + +One afternoon in the following term he was playing fives with +Charteris, a prefect in Merevale's House. Charteris was remarkable from +the fact that he edited and published at his own expense an unofficial +and highly personal paper, called _The Glow Worm_, which was a +great deal more in demand than the recognized School magazine, _The +Austinian_, and always paid its expenses handsomely. + +Charteris had the journalistic taint very badly. He was always the +first to get wind of any piece of School news. On this occasion he was +in possession of an exclusive item. The Babe was the first person to +whom he communicated it. + +'Have you heard the latest romance in high life, Babe?' he observed, as +they were leaving the court. 'But of course you haven't. You never do +hear anything.' + +'Well?' asked the Babe, patiently. + +'You know Dacre?' + +'I seem to have heard the name somewhere.' + +'He's going to be married.' + +'Yes. Don't trouble to try and look interested. You're one of those +offensive people who mind their own business and nobody else's. Only I +thought I'd tell you. Then you'll have a remote chance of understanding +my quips on the subject in next week's _Glow Worm_. You laddies +frae the north have to be carefully prepared for the subtler flights of +wit.' + +'Thanks,' said the Babe, placidly. 'Good-night.' + +The Headmaster intercepted the Babe a few days after he was going home +after a scratch game of football. 'MacArthur,' said he, 'you pass Mr +Dacre's House, do you not, on your way home? Then would you mind asking +him from me to take preparation tonight? I find I shall be unable to be +there.' It was the custom at St Austin's for the Head to preside at +preparation once a week; but he performed this duty, like the +celebrated Irishman, as often as he could avoid it. + +The Babe accepted the commission. He was shown into the drawing-room. +To his consternation, for he was not a society man, there appeared to +be a species of tea-party going on. As the door opened, somebody was +just finishing a remark. + +'... faculty which he displayed in such poems as "Sordello",' said the +voice. + +The Babe knew that voice. + +He would have fled if he had been able, but the servant was already +announcing him. Mr Dacre began to do the honours. + +'Mr MacArthur and I have met before,' said Miss Beezley, for it was +she. 'Curiously enough, the subject which we have just been discussing +is one in which he takes, I think, a great interest. I was saying, Mr +MacArthur, when you came in, that few of Tennyson's works show the +poetic faculty which Browning displays in "Sordello".' + +The Babe looked helplessly at Mr Dacre. + +'I think you are taking MacArthur out of his depth there,' said Mr +Dacre. 'Was there something you wanted to see me about, MacArthur?' + +The Babe delivered his message. + +'Oh, yes, certainly,' said Mr Dacre. 'Shall you be passing the School +House tonight? If so, you might give the Headmaster my compliments, and +say I shall be delighted.' + +The Babe had had no intention of going out of his way to that extent, +but the chance of escape offered by the suggestion was too good to be +missed. He went. + +On his way he called at Merevale's, and asked to see Charteris. + +'Look here, Charteris,' he said, 'you remember telling me that Dacre +was going to be married?' + +'Yes.' + +'Well, do you know her name by any chance?' + +'I ken it weel, ma braw Hielander. She is a Miss Beezley.' + +'Great Scott!' said the Babe. + +'Hullo! Why, was your young heart set in that direction? You amaze and +pain me, Babe. I think we'd better have a story on the subject in +_The Glow Worm_, with you as hero and Dacre as villain. It shall +end happily, of course. I'll write it myself.' + +'You'd better,' said the Babe, grimly. 'Oh, I say, Charteris.' + +'Well?' + +'When I come as a boarder, I shall be a House-prefect, shan't I, as I'm +in the Sixth?' + +'Yes.' + +'And prefects have to go to breakfast and supper, and that sort of +thing, pretty often with the House-beak, don't they?' + +'Such are the facts of the case.' + +'Thanks. That's all. Go away and do some work. Good-night.' + +The cup went to Merevale's that year. The Babe played a singularly +brilliant game for them. + + + + +[8] + +THE MANOEUVRES OF CHARTERIS + + + +_Chapter 1_ + +'Might I observe, sir--' + +'You may observe whatever you like,' said the referee kindly. +'Twenty-five.' + +'The rules say--' + +'I have given my decision. Twenty-_five_!' A spot of red appeared +on the official cheek. The referee, who had been heckled since the +kick-off, was beginning to be annoyed. + +'The ball went behind without bouncing, and the rules say--' + +'Twenty-FIVE!!' shouted the referee. 'I am perfectly well aware what +the rules say.' And he blew his whistle with an air of finality. The +secretary of the Bargees' F.C. subsided reluctantly, and the game was +restarted. + +The Bargees' match was a curious institution. Their real name was the +Old Crockfordians. When, a few years before, the St Austin's secretary +had received a challenge from them, dated from Stapleton, where their +secretary happened to reside, he had argued within himself as follows: +'This sounds all right. Old Crockfordians? Never heard of Crockford. +Probably some large private school somewhere. Anyhow, they're certain +to be decent fellows.' And he arranged the fixture. It then transpired +that Old Crockford was a village, and, from the appearance of the team +on the day of battle, the Old Crockfordians seemed to be composed +exclusively of the riff-raff of same. They wore green shirts with a +bright yellow leopard over the heart, and C.F.C. woven in large letters +about the chest. One or two of the outsides played in caps, and the +team to a man criticized the referee's decisions with point and +pungency. Unluckily, the first year saw a weak team of Austinians +rather badly beaten, with the result that it became a point of honour +to wipe this off the slate before the fixture could be cut out of the +card. The next year was also unlucky. The Bargees managed to score a +penalty goal in the first half, and won on that. The match resulted in +a draw in the following season, and by this time the thing had become +an annual event. + +Now, however, the School was getting some of its own back. The Bargees +had brought down a player of some reputation from the North, and were +as strong as ever in the scrum. But St Austin's had a great team, and +were carrying all before them. Charteris and Graham at half had the +ball out to their centres in a way which made Merevale, who looked +after the football of the School, feel that life was worth living. And +when once it was out, things happened rapidly. MacArthur, the captain +of the team, with Thomson as his fellow-centre, and Welch and Bannister +on the wings, did what they liked with the Bargees' three-quarters. All +the School outsides had scored, even the back, who dropped a neat goal. +The player from the North had scarcely touched the ball during the +whole game, and altogether the Bargees were becoming restless and +excited. + +The kick-off from the twenty-five line which followed upon the small +discussion alluded to above, reached Graham. Under ordinary +circumstances he would have kicked, but in a winning game original +methods often pay. He dodged a furious sportsman in green and yellow, +and went away down the touch-line. He was almost through when he +stumbled. He recovered himself, but too late. Before he could pass, +someone was on him. Graham was not heavy, and his opponent was +muscular. He was swung off his feet, and the next moment the two came +down together, Graham underneath. A sharp pain shot through his +shoulder. + +A doctor emerged from the crowd--there is always a doctor in a +crowd--and made an examination. + +'Anything bad?' asked the referee. + +'Collar-bone,' said the doctor. 'The usual, you know. Rather badly +smashed. Nothing dangerous, of course. Be all right in a month or so. +Stop his playing. Rather a pity. Much longer before half-time?' + +'No. I was just going to blow the whistle when this happened.' + +The injured warrior was carried off, and the referee blew his whistle +for half-time. + +'I say, Charteris,' said MacArthur, 'who the deuce am I to put half +instead of Graham?' + +'Rogers used to play half in his childhood, I believe. But, I say, did +you ever see such a scrag? Can't you protest, or something?' + +'My dear chap, how can I? It's on our own ground. These Bargee beasts +are visitors, if you come to think of it. I'd like to wring the chap's +neck who did it. I didn't spot who it was. Did you see?' + +'Rather. Their secretary. That man with the beard. I'll get Prescott to +mark him this half.' + +Prescott was the hardest tackler in the School. He accepted the +commission cheerfully, and promised to do his best by the bearded one. + +Charteris certainly gave him every opportunity. When he threw the ball +out of touch, he threw it neatly to the criminal with the beard, and +Prescott, who stuck to him closer than a brother, had generally tackled +him before he knew what had happened. After a time he began to grow +thoughtful, and when there was a line-out went and stood among the +three-quarters. In this way much of Charteris's righteous retribution +miscarried, but once or twice he had the pleasure and privilege of +putting in a piece of tackling on his own account. The match ended with +the enemy still intact, but considerably shaken. He was also rather +annoyed. He spoke to Charteris on the subject as they were leaving the +field. + +'I was watching you,' he said, _apropos_ of nothing apparently. + +'That must have been nice for you,' said Charteris. + +'You wait.' + +'Certainly. Any time you're passing, I'm sure--' + +'You ain't 'eard the last of me yet.' + +'That's something of a blow,' said Charteris cheerfully, and they +parted. + +Charteris, having got into his blazer, ran after Welch and MacArthur, +and walked back with them to the House. All three of them were at +Merevale's. + +'Poor old Tony,' said MacArthur. 'Where have they taken him to? The +House?' + +'Yes,' said Welch. 'I say, Babe, you ought to scratch this match next +year. Tell 'em the card's full up or something.' + +'Oh, I don't know. One expects fairly rough play in this sort of game. +After all, we tackle pretty hard ourselves. I know I always try and go +my hardest. If the man happens to be brittle, that's his lookout,' +concluded the bloodthirsty Babe. + +'My dear man,' said Charteris, 'there's all the difference between a +decent tackle and a bally scrag like the one that doubled Tony up. You +can't break a chap's collar-bone without trying to.' + +'Well, if you come to think of it, I suppose the man must have been +fairly riled. You can't expect a man to be in an angelic temper when +his side's been licked by thirty points.' + +The Babe was one of those thoroughly excellent persons who always try, +when possible, to make allowances for everybody. + +'Well, dash it,' said Charteris indignantly, 'if he had lost his hair +he might have drawn the line at falling on Tony like that. It wasn't +the tackling part of it that crocked him. The beast simply jumped on +him like a Hooligan. Anyhow, I made him sit up a bit before we +finished. I gave Prescott the tip to mark him out of touch. Have you +ever been collared by Prescott? It's a liberal education. Now, there +you are, you see. Take Prescott. He's never crocked a man seriously in +his life. I don't count being winded. That's absolutely an accident. +Well, there you are, then. Prescott weighs thirteen-ten, and he's all +muscle, and he goes like a battering-ram. You'll own that. He goes as +hard as he jolly well knows how, and yet the worst he has ever done is +to lay a man out for a couple of minutes while he gets his wind back. +Well, compare him with this Bargee man. The Bargee weighs a stone less +and isn't nearly as strong, and yet he smashes Tony's collar-bone. It's +all very well, Babe, but you can't get away from it. Prescott tackles +fairly and the Bargee scrags.' + +'Yes,' said MacArthur, 'I suppose you're right.' + +'Rather,' said Charteris. 'I wish I'd broken his neck.' + +'By the way,' said Welch, 'you were talking to him after the match. +What was he saying?' + +Charteris laughed. + +'By Jove, I'd forgotten; he said I hadn't heard the last of him, and +that I was to wait.' + +'What did you say?' + +'Oh, I behaved beautifully. I asked him to be sure and look in any time +he was passing, and after a few chatty remarks we parted.' + +'I wonder if he meant anything.' + +'I believe he means to waylay me with a buckled belt. I shan't stir out +except with the Old Man or some other competent bodyguard. "'Orrible +outrage, shocking death of a St Austin's schoolboy." It would look +rather well on the posters.' + +Welch stuck strenuously to the point. + +'No, but, look here, Charteris,' he said seriously, 'I'm not rotting. +You see, the man lives in Stapleton, and if he knows anything of School +rules--' + +'Which he doesn't probably. Why should he? Well?'--'If he knows +anything of the rules, he'll know that Stapleton's out of bounds, and +he may book you there and run you in to Merevale.' + +'Yes,' said MacArthur. 'I tell you what, you'd do well to knock off a +few of your expeditions to Stapleton. You know you wouldn't go there +once a month if it wasn't out of bounds. You'll be a prefect next term. +I should wait till then, if I were you.' + +'My dear chap, what does it matter? The worst that can happen to you +for breaking bounds is a couple of hundred lines, and I've got a +capital of four hundred already in stock. Besides, things would be so +slow if you always kept in bounds. I always feel like a cross between +Dick Turpin and Machiavelli when I go to Stapleton. It's an awfully +jolly feeling. Like warm treacle running down your back. It's cheap at +two hundred lines.' + +'You're an awful fool,' said Welch, rudely but correctly. + +Welch was a youth who treated the affairs of other people rather too +seriously. He worried over them. This is not a particularly common +trait in the character of either boy or man, but Welch had it highly +developed. He could not probably have explained exactly why he was +worried, but he undoubtedly was. Welch had a very grave and serious +mind. He shared a study with Charteris--for Charteris, though not yet a +School-prefect, was part owner of a study--and close observation had +convinced him that the latter was not responsible for his actions, and +that he wanted somebody to look after him. He had therefore elected +himself to the post of a species of modified and unofficial guardian +angel to him. The duties were heavy, and the remuneration exceedingly +light. + +'Really, you know,' said MacArthur, 'I don't see what the point of all +your lunacy is. I don't know if you're aware of it, but the Old Man's +getting jolly sick with you.' + +'I didn't know,' said Charteris, 'but I'm very glad to hear it. For +hist! I have a ger-rudge against the person. Beneath my ban that mystic +man shall suffer, _coute que coute_, Matilda. He sat upon +me--publicly, and the resultant blot on my scutcheon can only be wiped +out with blood, or broken rules,' he added. + +This was true. To listen to Charteris on the subject, one might have +thought that he considered the matter rather amusing than otherwise. +This, however, was simply due to the fact that he treated everything +flippantly in conversation. But, like the parrot, he thought the more. +The actual _casus belli_ had been trivial. At least the mere +spectator would have considered it trivial. It had happened after this +fashion. Charteris was a member of the School corps. The orderly-room +of the School corps was in the junior part of the School buildings. +Charteris had been to replace his rifle in that shrine of Mars after a +mid-day drill, and on coming out into the passage had found himself in +the middle of a junior school 'rag' of the conventional type. +Somebody's cap had fallen off, and two hastily picked teams were +playing football with it (Association rules). Now, Charteris was not a +prefect (that, it may be observed in passing, was another source of +bitterness in him towards the Powers, for he was fairly high up in the +Sixth, and others of his set, Welch, Thomson, and Tony Graham, who were +also in the Sixth--the two last below him in form order--had already +received their prefects' caps). Not being a prefect, it would have been +officious in him to have stopped the game. So he was passing on with +what Mr Hurry Bungsho Jabberjee, B.A., would have termed a beaming +simper of indescribable suavity, when a member of one of the opposing +teams, in effecting a G. O. Smithian dribble, cannoned into him. To +preserve his balance--this will probably seem a very thin line of +defence, but 'I state but the facts'--he grabbed at the disciple of +Smith amidst applause, and at that precise moment a new actor appeared +on the scene--the Headmaster. Now, of all the things that lay in his +province, the Headmaster most disliked to see a senior 'ragging' with a +junior. He had a great idea of the dignity of the senior school, and +did all that in him lay to see that it was kept up. The greater number +of the juniors with whom the senior was found ragging, the more heinous +the offence. Circumstantial evidence was dead against Charteris. To all +outward appearances he was one of the players in the impromptu football +match. The soft and fascinating beams of the simper, to quote Mr +Jabberjee once more, had not yet faded from the act. A well-chosen word +or two from the Headmagisterial lips put a premature end to the +football match, and Charteris was proceeding on his way when the +Headmaster called him. He stopped. The Headmaster was angry. So angry, +indeed, that he did what in a more lucid interval he would not have +done. He hauled a senior over the coals in the hearing of a number of +juniors, one of whom (unidentified) giggled loudly. As Charteris had on +previous occasions observed, the Old Man, when he did start to take a +person's measure, didn't leave out much. The address was not long, but +it covered a great deal of ground. The section of it which chiefly +rankled in Charteris's mind, and which had continued to rankle ever +since, was that in which the use of the word 'buffoon' had occurred. +Everybody who has a gift of humour and (very naturally) enjoys +exercising it, hates to be called a buffoon. It was Charteris's one +weak spot. Every other abusive epithet in the language slid off him +without penetrating or causing him the least discomfort. The word +'buffoon' went home, right up to the hilt. And, to borrow from Mr +Jabberjee for positively the very last time, he had observed +(mentally): 'Henceforward I will perpetrate heaps of the lowest dregs +of vice.' He had, in fact, started a perfect bout of breaking rules, +simply because they were rules. The injustice of the thing rankled. No +one so dislikes being punished unjustly as the person who might have +been punished justly on scores of previous occasions, if he had only +been found out. To a certain extent, Charteris ran amok. He broke +bounds and did little work, and--he was beginning gradually to find +this out--got thoroughly tired of it all. Offended dignity, however, +still kept him at it, and much as he would have preferred to have +resumed a less feverish type of existence, he did not do so. + +'I have a ger-rudge against the man,' he said. + +'You _are_ an idiot, really,' said Welch. + +'Welch,' said Charteris, by way of explanation to MacArthur, 'is a lad +of coarse fibre. He doesn't understand the finer feelings. He can't see +that I am doing this simply for the Old Man's good. Spare the rod, +spile the choild. Let's go and have a look at Tony when we're changed. +He'll be in the sick-room if he's anywhere.' + +'All right,' said the Babe, as he went into his study. 'Buck up. I'll +toss you for first bath in a second.' + +Charteris walked on with Welch to their sanctum. + +'You know,' said Welch seriously, stooping to unlace his boots, +'rotting apart, you really are a most awful ass. I wish I could get you +to see it.' + +'Never you mind, ducky,' said Charteris, 'I'm all right. I'll look +after myself.' + + + +_Chapter 2_ + +It was about a week after the Bargees' match that the rules respecting +bounds were made stricter, much to the popular indignation. The penalty +for visiting Stapleton without leave was increased from two hundred +lines to two extra lessons. The venomous characteristic of extra lesson +was that it cut into one's football, for the criminal was turned into a +form-room from two till four on half-holidays, and so had to scratch +all athletic engagements for the day, unless he chose to go for a +solitary run afterwards. In the cricket term the effect of this was not +so deadly. It was just possible that you might get an innings somewhere +after four o'clock, even if only at the nets. But during the football +season--it was now February--to be in extra lesson meant a total loss +of everything that makes life endurable, and the School protested (to +one another, in the privacy of their studies) with no uncertain voice +against this barbarous innovation. + +The reason for the change had been simple. At the corner of the High +Street at Stapleton was a tobacconist's shop, and Mr Prater, strolling +in one evening to renew his stock of Pioneer, was interested to observe +P. St H. Harrison, of Merevale's, purchasing a consignment of 'Girl of +my Heart' cigarettes (at twopence-halfpenny the packet of twenty, +including a coloured picture of Lord Kitchener). Now, Mr Prater was one +of the most sportsmanlike of masters. If he had merely met Harrison out +of bounds, and it had been possible to have overlooked him, he would +have done so. But such a proceeding in the interior of a small shop was +impossible. There was nothing to palliate the crime. The tobacconist +also kept the wolf from the door, and lured the juvenile population of +the neighbourhood to it, by selling various weird brands of sweets, but +it was only too obvious that Harrison was not after these. Guilt was in +his eye, and the packet of cigarettes in his hand. Also Harrison's +House cap was fixed firmly at the back of his head. Mr Prater finished +buying his Pioneer, and went out without a word. That night it was +announced to Harrison that the Headmaster wished to see him. The +Headmaster saw him, though for a certain period of the interview he did +not see the Headmaster, having turned his back on him by request. On +the following day Stapleton was placed doubly out of bounds. + +Tony, who was still in bed, had not heard the news when Charteris came +to see him on the evening of the day on which the edict had gone forth. + +'How are you getting on?' asked Charteris. + +'Oh, fairly well. It's rather slow.' + +'The grub seems all right.' Charteris absently reached out for a slice +of cake. + +'Not bad.' + +'And you don't have to do any work.' + +'No.' + +'Well, then, it seems to me you're having a jolly good time. What don't +you like about it?' + +'It's so slow, being alone all day.' + +'Makes you appreciate intellectual conversation all the more when you +get it. Mine, for instance.' + +'I want something to read.' + +'I'll bring you a Sidgwick's _Greek Prose Composition_, if you +like. Full of racy stories.' + +'I've read 'em, thanks.' + +'How about Jebb's _Homer_? You'd like that. Awfully interesting. +Proves that there never was such a man as Homer, you know, and that the +_Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ were produced by evolution. General +style, quietly funny. Make you roar.' + +'Don't be an idiot. I'm simply starving for something to read. Haven't +you got anything?' + +'You've read all mine.' + +'Hasn't Welch got any books?' + +'Not one. He bags mine when he wants to read. I'll tell you what I will +do if you like.' + +'What?' + +'Go into Stapleton, and borrow something from Adamson.' Adamson was the +College doctor. + +'By Jove, that's not a bad idea.' + +'It's a dashed good idea, which wouldn't have occurred to anybody but a +genius. I've been quite a pal of Adamson's ever since I had the flu. I +go to tea with him occasionally, and we talk medical shop. Have you +ever tried talking medical shop during tea? Nothing like it for giving +you an appetite.' + +'Has he got anything readable?' + +'Rather. Have you ever tried anything of James Payn's?' + +'I've read _Terminations_, or something,' said Tony doubtfully, +'but he's so obscure.' + +'Don't,' said Charteris sadly, 'please don't. _Terminations_ is by +one Henry James, and there is a substantial difference between him and +James Payn. Anyhow, if you want a short biography of James Payn, he +wrote a hundred books, and they're all simply ripping, and Adamson has +got a good many of them, and I'm hoping to borrow a couple--any two +will do--and you're going to read them. I know one always bars a book +that's recommended to one, but you've got no choice. You're not going +to get anything else till you've finished those two.' + +'All right,' said Tony. 'But Stapleton's out of bounds. I suppose +Merevale'll give you leave to go in.' + +'He won't,' said Charteris. 'I shan't ask him. On principle. So long.' + +On the following afternoon Charteris went into Stapleton. The distance +by road was almost exactly one mile. If you went by the fields it was +longer, because you probably lost your way. + +Dr Adamson's house was in the High Street. Charteris knocked at the +door. The servant was sorry, but the doctor was out. Her tone seemed to +suggest that, if she had had any say in the matter, he would have +remained in. Would Charteris come in and wait? Charteris rather thought +he would. He waited for half an hour, and then, as the absent medico +did not appear to be coming, took two books from the shelf, wrote a +succinct note explaining what he had done, and why he had done it, +hoping the doctor would not mind, and went out with his literary +trophies into the High Street again. + +The time was now close on five o'clock. Lock-up was not till a quarter +past six--six o'clock nominally, but the doors were always left open +till a quarter past. It would take him about fifteen minutes to get +back, less if he trotted. Obviously, the thing to do here was to spend +a thoughtful quarter of an hour or so inspecting the sights of the +town. These were ordinarily not numerous, but this particular day +happened to be market day, and there was a good deal going on. The High +Street was full of farmers, cows, and other animals, the majority of +the former well on the road to intoxication. It is, of course, +extremely painful to see a man in such a condition, but when such a +person is endeavouring to count a perpetually moving drove of pigs, the +onlooker's pain is sensibly diminished. Charteris strolled along the +High Street observing these and other phenomena with an attentive eye. +Opposite the Town Hall he was button-holed by a perfect stranger, whom, +by his conversation, he soon recognized as the Stapleton 'character'. +There is a 'character' in every small country town. He is not a bad +character; still less is he a good character. He is just a 'character' +pure and simple. This particular man--or rather, this man, for he was +anything but particular--apparently took a great fancy to Charteris at +first sight. He backed him gently against a wall, and insisted on +telling him an interminable anecdote of his shady past, when, it +seemed, he had been a 'super' in some travelling company. The plot of +the story, as far as Charteris could follow it, dealt with a theatrical +tour in Dublin, where some person or persons unknown had, with malice +prepense, scattered several pounds of snuff on the stage previous to a +performance of _Hamlet_; and, according to the 'character', when +the ghost of Hamlet's father sneezed steadily throughout his great +scene, there was not a dry eye in the house. The 'character' had +concluded that anecdote, and was half-way through another, when +Charteris, looking at his watch, found that it was almost six o'clock. +He interrupted one of the 'character's' periods by diving past him and +moving rapidly down the street. The historian did not seem to object. +Charteris looked round and saw that he had button-holed a fresh victim. +He was still gazing in one direction and walking in another, when he +ran into somebody. + +'Sorry,' said Charteris hastily. 'Hullo!' + +It was the secretary of the Old Crockfordians, and, to judge from the +scowl on that gentleman's face, the recognition was mutual. + +'It's you, is it?' said the secretary in his polished way. + +'I believe so,' said Charteris. + +'Out of bounds,' observed the man. + +Charteris was surprised. This grasp of technical lore on the part of a +total outsider was as unexpected as it was gratifying. + +'What do you know about bounds?' said Charteris. + +'I know you ain't allowed to come 'ere, and you'll get it 'ot from your +master for coming.' + +'Ah, but he won't know. I shan't tell him, and I'm sure you will +respect my secret.' + +Charteris smiled in a winning manner. + +'Ho!' said the man, 'Ho indeed!' + +There is something very clinching about the word 'Ho'. It seems +definitely to apply the closure to any argument. At least, I have never +yet met anyone who could tell me the suitable repartee. + +'Well,' said Charteris affably, 'don't let me keep you. I must be going +on.' + +'Ho!' observed the man once more. 'Ho indeed!' + +'That's a wonderfully shrewd remark,' said Charteris. 'I can see that, +but I wish you'd tell me exactly what it means.' + +'You're out of bounds.' + +'Your mind seems to run in a groove. You can't get off that bounds +business. How do you know Stapleton's out of bounds?' + +'I have made enquiries,' said the man darkly. + +'By Jove,' said Charteris delightedly, 'this is splendid. You're a +regular sleuth-hound. I dare say you've found out my name and House +too?' + +'I may 'ave,' said the man, 'or I may not 'ave.' + +'Well, now you mention it, I suppose one of the two contingencies is +probable. Well, I'm awfully glad to have met you. Good-bye. I must be +going.' + +'You're goin' with me.' + +'Arm in arm?' + +'I don't want to _'ave_ to take you.' + +'No,' said Charteris, 'I should jolly well advise you not to try. This +is my way.' + +He walked on till he came to the road that led to St Austin's. The +secretary of the Old Crockfordians stalked beside him with determined +stride. + +'Now,' said Charteris, when they were on the road, 'you mustn't mind if +I walk rather fast. I'm in a hurry.' + +Charteris's idea of walking rather fast was to dash off down the road +at quarter-mile pace. The move took the man by surprise, but, after a +moment, he followed with much panting. It was evident that he was not +in training. Charteris began to feel that the walk home might be +amusing in its way. After they had raced some three hundred yards he +slowed down to a walk again. It was at this point that his companion +evinced a desire to do the rest of the journey with a hand on the +collar of his coat. + +'If you touch me,' observed Charteris with a surprising knowledge of +legal _minutiae_, 'it'll be a technical assault, and you'll get +run in; and you'll get beans anyway if you try it on.' + +The man reconsidered matters, and elected not to try it on. + +Half a mile from the College Charteris began to walk rather fast again. +He was a good half-miler, and his companion was bad at every distance. +After a game struggle he dropped to the rear, and finished a hundred +yards behind in considerable straits. Charteris shot in at Merevale's +door with five minutes to spare, and went up to his study to worry +Welch by telling him about it. + +'Welch, you remember the Bargee who scragged Tony? Well, there have +been all sorts of fresh developments. He's just been pacing me all the +way from Stapleton.' + +'Stapleton! Have you been to Stapleton? Did Merevale give you leave?' + +'No. I didn't ask him.' + +'You _are_ an idiot. And now this Bargee man will go straight to +the Old Man and run you in. I wonder you didn't think of that.' + +'Curious I didn't.' + +'I suppose he saw you come in here?' + +'Rather. He couldn't have had a better view if he'd paid for a seat. +Half a second; I must just run up with these volumes to Tony.' + +When he came back he found Welch more serious than ever. + +'I told you so,' said Welch. 'You're to go to the Old Man at once. He's +just sent over for you. I say, look here, if it's only lines I don't +mind doing some of them, if you like.' + +Charteris was quite touched by this sporting offer. + +'It's awfully good of you,' he said, 'but it doesn't matter, really. I +shall be all right.' + +Ten minutes later he returned, beaming. + +'Well,' said Welch, 'what's he given you?' + +'Only his love, to give to you. It was this way. He first asked me if I +wasn't perfectly aware that Stapleton was out of bounds. "Sir," says I, +"I've known it from childhood's earliest hour." "Ah," says he to me, +"did Mr Merevale give you leave to go in this afternoon?" "No," says I, +"I never consulted the gent you mention."' + +'Well?' + +'Then he ragged me for ten minutes, and finally told me I must go into +extra the next two Saturdays.' + +'I thought so.' + +'Ah, but mark the sequel. When he had finished, I said that I was sorry +I had mistaken the rules, but I had thought that a chap was allowed to +go into Stapleton if he got leave from a master. "But you said that Mr +Merevale did not give you leave," said he. "Friend of my youth," I +replied courteously, "you are perfectly correct. As always. Mr Merevale +did not give me leave, but," I added suavely, "Mr Dacre did." And I +came away, chanting hymns of triumph in a mellow baritone, and leaving +him in a dead faint on the sofa. And the Bargee, who was present during +the conflict, swiftly and silently vanished away, his morale +considerably shattered. And that, my gentle Welch,' concluded Charteris +cheerfully, 'put me one up. So pass the biscuits, and let us rejoice if +we never rejoice again.' + + + +_Chapter 3_ + +The Easter term was nearing its end. Football, with the exception of +the final House-match, which had still to come off, was over, and life +was in consequence a trifle less exhilarating than it might have been. +In some ways the last few weeks before the Easter holidays are quite +pleasant. You can put on running shorts and a blazer and potter about +the grounds, feeling strong and athletic, and delude yourself into the +notion that you are training for the sports. Ten minutes at the broad +jump, five with the weight, a few sprints on the track--it is all very +amusing and harmless, but it is apt to become monotonous after a time. +And if the weather is at all inclined to be chilly, such an occupation +becomes impossible. + +Charteris found things particularly dull. He was a fair average runner, +but there were others far better at every distance, so that he saw no +use in mortifying the flesh with strict training. On the other hand, in +view of the fact that the final House-match had yet to be played, and +that Merevale's was one of the two teams that were going to play it, it +behoved him to keep himself at least moderately fit. The genial muffin +and the cheery crumpet were still things to be avoided. He thus found +himself in a position where, apparently, the few things which it was +possible for him to do were barred, and the net result was that he felt +slightly dull. + +To make matters worse, all the rest of his set were working full time +at their various employments, and had no leisure for amusing him. Welch +practised hundred-yard sprints daily, and imagined that it would be +quite a treat for Charteris to be allowed to time him. So he gave him +the stopwatch, saw him safely to the end of the track, and at a given +signal dashed off in the approved American style. By the time he +reached the tape, dutifully held by two sporting Merevalian juniors, +Charteris's attention had generally been attracted elsewhere. 'What +time?' Welch would pant. 'By Jove,' Charteris would observe blandly, 'I +forgot to look. About a minute and a quarter, I fancy.' At which Welch, +who always had a notion that he had done it in ten and a fifth +_that_ time, at any rate, would dissemble his joy, and mildly +suggest that somebody else should hold the watch. Then there was Jim +Thomson, generally a perfect mine of elevating conversation. He was in +for the mile and also the half, and refused to talk about anything +except those distances, and the best methods for running them in the +minimum of time. Charteris began to feel a blue melancholy stealing +over him. The Babe, again. He might have helped to while away the long +hours, but unfortunately the Babe had been taken very bad with a notion +that he was going to win the 'cross-country run, and when, in addition +to this, he was seized with a panic with regard to the prospects of the +House team in the final, and began to throw out hints concerning strict +training, Charteris regarded him as a person to be avoided. If he fled +to the Babe for sympathy now, the Babe would be just as likely as not +to suggest that he should come for a ten-mile spin with him, to get him +into condition for the final Houser. The very thought of a ten-mile +spin made Charteris feel faint. Lastly, there was Tony. But Tony's +company was worse than none at all. He went about with his arm in a +sling, and declined to be comforted. But for his injury, he would by +now have been training hard for the Aldershot Boxing Competition, and +the fact that he was now definitely out of it had a very depressing +effect upon him. He lounged moodily about the gymnasium, watching +Menzies, who was to take his place, sparring with the instructor, and +refused consolation. Altogether, Charteris found life a distinct bore. + +He was reduced to such straits for amusement, that one Wednesday +afternoon, finding himself with nothing else to do, he was working at a +burlesque and remarkably scurrilous article on 'The Staff, by one who +has suffered', which he was going to insert in _The Glow Worm_, an +unofficial periodical which he had started for the amusement of the +School and his own and his contributors' profit. He was just warming to +his work, and beginning to enjoy himself, when the door opened without +a preliminary knock. Charteris deftly slid a piece of blotting-paper +over his MS., for Merevale occasionally entered a study in this manner. +And though there was nothing about Merevale himself in the article, it +would be better perhaps, thought Charteris, if he did not see it. But +it was not Merevale. It was somebody far worse. The Babe. + +The Babe was clothed as to his body in football clothes, and as to +face, in a look of holy enthusiasm. Charteris knew what that look +meant. It meant that the Babe was going to try and drag him out for a +run. + +'Go away, Babe,' he said, 'I'm busy.' + +'Why on earth are you slacking in here on this ripping afternoon?' + +'Slacking!' said Charteris. 'I like that. I'm doing berrain work, Babe. +I'm writing an article on masters and their customs, which will cause a +profound sensation in the Common Room. At least it would, if they ever +saw it, but they won't. Or I hope they won't for their sake _and_ +mine. So run away, my precious Babe, and don't disturb your uncle when +he's busy.' + +'Rot,' said the Babe firmly, 'you haven't taken any exercise for a +week.' + +Charteris replied proudly that he had wound up his watch only last +night. The Babe refused to accept the remark as relevant to the matter +in hand. + +'Look here, Alderman,' he said, sitting down on the table, and gazing +sternly at his victim, 'it's all very well, you know, but the final +comes on in a few days, and you know you aren't in any too good +training.' + +'I am,' said Charteris, 'I'm as fit as a prize fighter. Simply full of +beans. Feel my ribs.' + +The Babe declined the offer. + +'No, but I say,' he said plaintively, 'I wish you'd treat it seriously. +It's getting jolly serious, really. If Dacre's win that cup again this +year, that'll make four years running.' + +'Not so,' said Charteris, like the mariner of +infinite-resource-and-sagacity; 'not so, but far otherwise. It'll only +make three.' + +'Well, three's bad enough.' + +'True, oh king, three is quite bad enough.' + +'Well, then, there you are. Now you see.' + +Charteris looked puzzled. + +'Would you mind explaining that remark?' he said. 'Slowly.' + +But the Babe had got off the table, and was prowling round the room, +opening cupboards and boxes. + +'What are you playing at?' enquired Charteris. + +'Where do you keep your footer things?' + +'What do you want with my footer things, if you don't mind my asking?' + +'I'm going to help you put them on, and then you're coming for a run.' + +'Ah,' said Charteris. + +'Yes. Just a gentle spin to keep you in training. Hullo, this looks +like them.' + +He plunged both hands into a box near the window and flung out a mass +of football clothes. It reminded Charteris of a terrier digging at a +rabbit-hole. + +He protested. + +'Don't, Babe. Treat 'em tenderly. You'll be spoiling the crease in +those bags if you heave 'em about like that. I'm very particular about +how I look on the football field. _I_ was always taught to dress +myself like a little gentleman, so to speak. Well, now you've seen +them, put 'em away.' + +'Put 'em on,' said the Babe firmly. + +'You are a beast, Babe. I don't want to go for a run. I'm getting too +old for violent exercise.' + +'Buck up,' said the Babe. 'We mustn't chuck any chances away. Now that +Tony can't play, we shall have to do all we know if we want to win.' + +'I don't see what need there is to get nervous about it. Considering +we've got three of the First three-quarter line, and the Second Fifteen +back, we ought to do pretty well.' + +'But look at Dacre's scrum. There's Prescott, to start with. He's worth +any two of our men put together. Then they've got Carter, Smith, and +Hemming out of the first, and Reeve-Jones out of the second. And their +outsides aren't so very bad, if you come to think of it. Bannister's in +the first, and the other three-quarters are all good. And they've got +both the second halves. You'll have practically to look after both of +them now that Tony's crocked. And Baddeley has come on a lot this +term.' + +'Babe,' said Charteris, 'you have reason. I will turn over a new leaf. +I _will_ be good. Give me my things and I'll come for a run. Only +please don't let it be anything over twenty miles.' + +'Good man,' said the gratified Babe. 'We won't go far, and will take it +quite easy.' + +'I tell you what,' said Charteris. 'Do you know a place called Worbury? +I thought you wouldn't, probably. It's only a sort of hamlet, two +cottages, three public-houses, and a duck-pond, and that sort of thing. +I only know it because Welch and I ran there once last year. It's in +the Badgwick direction, about three miles by road, mostly along the +level. I vote we muffle up fairly well, blazers and sweaters and so on, +run to Worbury, tea at one of the cottages, and back in time for +lock-up. How does that strike you?' + +'It sounds all right. How about tea though? Are you certain you can get +it?' + +'Rather. The Oldest Inhabitant is quite a pal of mine.' + +Charteris's circle of acquaintances was a standing wonder to the Babe +and other Merevalians. He seemed to know everybody in the county. + +When once he was fairly started on any business, physical or mental, +Charteris generally shaped well. It was the starting that he found the +difficulty. Now that he was actually in motion, he was enjoying himself +thoroughly. He wondered why on earth he had been so reluctant to come +for this run. The knowledge that there were three miles to go, and that +he was equal to them, made him feel a new man. He felt fit. And there +is nothing like feeling fit for dispelling boredom. He swung along with +the Babe at a steady pace. + +'There's the cottage,' he said, as they turned a bend of the road, and +Worbury appeared a couple of hundred yards away. 'Let's sprint.' They +sprinted, and arrived at the door of the cottage with scarcely a yard +between them, much to the admiration of the Oldest Inhabitant, who was +smoking a thoughtful pipe in his front garden. Mrs Oldest Inhabitant +came out of the cottage at the sound of voices, and Charteris broached +the subject of tea. The menu was sumptuous and varied, and even the +Babe, in spite of his devotion to strict training, could scarce forbear +to smile happily at the mention of hot cakes. + +During the _mauvais quart d'heure_ before the meal, Charteris kept +up an animated conversation with the Oldest Inhabitant, the Babe +joining in from time to time when he could think of anything to say. +Charteris appeared to be quite a friend of the family. He enquired +after the Oldest Inhabitant's rheumatics. It was gratifying to find +that they were distinctly better. How had Mrs O. I. been since his last +visit? Prarper hearty? Excellent. How was the O. I.'s nevvy? + +At the mention of his nevvy the O. I. became discursive. He told his +audience everything that had happened in connection with the said nevvy +for years back. After which he started to describe what he would +probably do in the future. Amongst other things, there were going to be +some sports at Rutton today week, and his nevvy was going to try and +win the cup for what the Oldest Inhabitant vaguely described as 'a +race'. He had won it last year. Yes, prarper good runner, his nevvy. +Where was Rutton? the Babe wanted to know. About eight miles out of +Stapleton, said Charteris, who was well up in local geography. You got +there by train. It was the next station. + +Mrs O. I. came out to say that tea was ready, and, being drawn into the +conversation on the subject of the Rutton sports, produced a programme +of the same, which her nevvy had sent them. From this it seemed that +the nevvy's 'spot' event was the egg and spoon race. An asterisk +against his name pointed him out as the last year's winner. + +'Hullo,' said Charteris, 'I see there's a strangers' mile. I'm a demon +at the mile when I'm roused. I think I shall go in for it.' + +He handed the programme back and began his tea. + +'You know, Babe,' he said, as they were going back that evening, 'I +really think I shall go in for that race. It would be a most awful rag. +It's the day before the House-match, so it'll just get me fit.' + +'Don't be a fool,' said the Babe. 'There would be a fearful row about +it if you were found out. You'd get extras for the rest of your life.' + +'Well, the final Houser comes off on a Thursday, so it won't affect +that.' + +'Yes, but still--' + +'I shall think about it,' said Charteris. 'You needn't go telling +anyone.' + +'If you'll take my advice, you'll drop it.' + +'Your suggestion has been noted, and will receive due attention,' said +Charteris. 'Put on the pace a bit.' + +They lengthened their stride, and conversation came to an abrupt end. + + + +_Chapter 4_ + +'I shall go, Babe,' said Charteris on the following night. + +The Sixth Form had a slack day before them on the morrow, there being a +temporary lull in the form-work which occurred about once a week, when +there was no composition of any kind to be done. The Sixth did four +compositions a week, two Greek and two Latin, and except for these did +not bother themselves very much about overnight preparation. The Latin +authors which the form were doing were Livy and Virgil, and when either +of these were on the next day's programme, most of the Sixth considered +that they were justified in taking a night off. They relied on their +ability to translate both authors at sight and without previous +acquaintance. The popular notion that Virgil is hard rarely appeals to +a member of a public school. There are two ways of translating Virgil, +the conscientious and the other. He prefers the other. + +On this particular night, therefore, work was 'off'. Merevale was over +at the Great Hall, taking preparation, and the Sixth-Form Merevalians +had assembled in Charteris's study to talk about things in general. It +was after a pause of some moments, that had followed upon a lively +discussion of the House's prospects in the forthcoming final, that +Charteris had spoken. + +'I shall go, Babe,' said he. + +'Go where?' asked Tony, from the depths of a deck-chair. + +'Babe knows.' + +The Babe turned to the company and explained. + +'The lunatic's going in for the strangers' mile at some sports at +Rutton next week. He'll get booked for a cert. He can't see that. I +never saw such a man.' + +'Rally round,' said Charteris, 'and reason with me. I'll listen. Tony, +what do you think about it?' + +Tony expressed his opinion tersely, and Charteris thanked him. Welch, +who had been reading, now awoke to the fact that a discussion was in +progress, and asked for details. The Babe explained once more, and +Welch heartily corroborated Tony's remarks. Charteris thanked him too. + +'You aren't really going, are you?' asked Welch. + +'Rather,' said Charteris. + +'The Old Man won't give you leave.' + +'Shan't worry the poor man with such trifles.' + +'But it's miles out of bounds. Stapleton station is out of bounds to +start with. It's against rules to go in a train, and Rutton's even more +out of bounds than Stapleton.' + +'And as there are sports there,' said Tony, 'the Old Man is certain to +put Rutton specially out of bounds for that day. He always bars a St +Austin's chap going to a place when there's anything going on there.' + +'I don't care. What have I to do with the Old Man's petty prejudices? +Now, let me get at my time-table. Here we are. Now then.' + +'Don't be a fool,' said Tony, + +'Certainly not. Look here, there's a train starts from Stapleton at +three. I can catch that all right. Gets to Rutton at three-twenty. +Sports begin at three-fifteen. At least, they are supposed to. Over +before five, I should think. At least, my race will be, though I must +stop to see the Oldest Inhabitant's nevvy win the egg and spoon canter. +But that ought to come on before the strangers' race. Train back at a +quarter past five. Arrives at a quarter to six. Lock up six-fifteen. +That gives me half an hour to get here from Stapleton. What more do you +want? I shall do it easily, and ... the odds against my being booked +are about twenty-five to one. At which price if any gent present cares +to deposit his money, I am willing to take him. Now I'll treat you to a +tune, if you're good.' + +He went to the cupboard and produced his gramophone. Charteris's +musical instruments had at one time been strictly suppressed by the +authorities, and, in consequence, he had laid in a considerable stock +of them. At last, when he discovered that there was no rule against the +use of musical instruments in the House, Merevale had yielded. The +stipulation that Charteris should play only before prep. was rigidly +observed, except when Merevale was over at the Hall, and the Sixth had +no work. On such occasions Charteris felt justified in breaking through +the rule. He had a gramophone, a banjo, a penny whistle, and a mouth +organ. The banjo, which he played really well, was the most in request, +but the gramophone was also popular. + +'Turn on "Whistling Rufus",' observed Thomson. + +'Whistling Rufus' was duly turned on, giving way after an encore to +'Bluebells'. + +'I always weep when I hear this,' said Tony. + +'It _is_ beautiful, isn't it?' said Charteris. + + I'll be your sweetheart, if you--will be--mine, + All my life, I'll be your valentine. + Bluebells I've gathered--grrhhrh. + +The needle of the gramophone, after the manner of its kind, slipped +raspingly over the surface of the wax, and the rest of the ballad was +lost. + +'That,' said Charteris, 'is how I feel with regard to the Old Man. I'd +be his sweetheart, if he'd be mine. But he makes no advances, and the +stain on my scutcheon is not yet wiped out. I must say I haven't tried +gathering bluebells for him yet, nor have I offered my services as a +perpetual valentine, but I've been very kind to him in other ways.' + +'Is he still down on you?' asked the Babe. + +'He hasn't done much lately. We're in a state of truce at present. Did +I tell you how I scored about Stapleton?' + +'You've only told us about a hundred times,' said the Babe brutally. 'I +tell you what, though, he'll score off you if he finds you going to +Rutton.' + +'Let's hope he won't.' + +'He won't,' said Welch suddenly. + +'Why?' + +'Because you won't go. I'll bet you anything you like that you won't +go.' + +That settled Charteris. It was the sort of remark that always acted on +him like a tonic. He had been intending to go all the time, but it was +this speech of Welch's that definitely clinched the matter. One of his +mottoes for everyday use was 'Let not thyself be scored off by Welch.' + +'That's all right,' he said. 'Of course I shall go. What's the next +item you'd like on this machine?' + +The day of the sports arrived, and the Babe, meeting Charteris at +Merevale's gate, made a last attempt to head him off from his purpose. + +'How are you going to take your things?' he asked. 'You can't carry a +bag. The first beak you met would ask questions.' + +If he had hoped that this would be a crushing argument, he was +disappointed. + +Charteris patted a bloated coat pocket. + +'Bags,' he said laconically. 'Vest,' he added, doing the same to his +other pocket. 'Shoes,' he concluded, 'you will observe I am carrying in +a handy brown paper parcel, and if anybody wants to know what's in it, +I shall tell them it's acid drops. Sure you won't come, too?' + +'Quite, thanks.' + +'All right. So long then. Be good while I'm gone.' + +And he passed on down the road that led to Stapleton. + +The Rutton Recreation Ground presented, as the _Stapleton Herald_ +justly remarked in its next week's issue, 'a gay and animated +appearance'. There was a larger crowd than Charteris had expected. He +made his way through them, resisting without difficulty the entreaties +of a hoarse gentleman in a check suit to have three to two on 'Enery +something for the hundred yards, and came at last to the dressing-tent. + +At this point it occurred to him that it would be judicious to find out +when his race was to start. It was rather a chilly day, and the less +time he spent in the undress uniform of shorts the better. He bought a +correct card for twopence, and scanned it. The strangers' mile was down +for four-fifty. There was no need to change for an hour yet. He wished +the authorities could have managed to date the event earlier. + +Four-fifty was running it rather fine. The race would be over by about +five to five, and it was a walk of some ten minutes to the station, +less if he hurried. That would give him ten minutes for recovering from +the effects of the race, and changing back into his ordinary clothes +again. It would be quick work. But, having come so far, he was not +inclined to go back without running in the race. He would never be able +to hold his head up again if he did that. He left the dressing-tent, +and started on a tour of the field. + +The scene was quite different from anything he had ever witnessed +before in the way of sports. The sports at St Austin's were decorous to +a degree. These leaned more to the rollickingly convivial. It was like +an ordinary race-meeting, except that men were running instead of +horses. Rutton was a quiet little place for the majority of the year, +but it woke up on this day, and was evidently out to enjoy itself. The +Rural Hooligan was a good deal in evidence, and though he was +comparatively quiet just at present, the frequency with which he +visited the various refreshment stalls that dotted the ground gave +promise of livelier times in the future. Charteris felt that the +afternoon would not be dull. + +The hour soon passed, and Charteris, having first seen the Oldest +Inhabitant's nevvy romp home in the egg and spoon event, took himself +off to the dressing-tent, and began to get into his running clothes. +The bell for his race was just ringing when he left the tent. He +trotted over to the starting place. + +Apparently there was not a very large 'field'. Two weedy-looking youths +of about Charteris's age, dressed in blushing pink, put in an +appearance, and a very tall, thin man came up almost immediately +afterwards. Charteris had just removed his coat, and was about to get +to his place on the line, when another competitor arrived, and, to +judge by the applause that greeted his appearance, he was evidently a +favourite in the locality. It was with shock that Charteris recognized +his old acquaintance, the Bargees' secretary. + +He was clad in running clothes of a bright orange and a smile of +conscious superiority, and when somebody in the crowd called out 'Go +it, Jarge!' he accepted the tribute as his due, and waved a +condescending hand in the speaker's direction. + +Some moments elapsed before he recognized Charteris, and the latter had +time to decide upon his line of action. If he attempted concealment in +any way, the man would recognize that on this occasion, at any rate, he +had, to use an adequate if unclassical expression, got the bulge, and +then there would be trouble. By brazening things out, however, there +was just a chance that he might make him imagine that there was more in +the matter than met the eye, and that, in some mysterious way, he had +actually obtained leave to visit Rutton that day. After all, the man +didn't know very much about School rules, and the recollection of the +recent fiasco in which he had taken part would make him think twice +about playing the amateur policeman again, especially in connection +with Charteris. + +So he smiled genially, and expressed a hope that the man enjoyed robust +health. + +The man replied by glaring in a simple and unaffected manner. + +'Looked up the Headmaster lately?' asked Charteris. + +'What are you doing here?' + +'I'm going to run. Hope you don't mind.' + +'You're out of bounds.' + +'That's what you said before. You'd better enquire a bit before you +make rash statements. Otherwise, there's no knowing what may happen. +Perhaps Mr Dacre has given me leave.' + +The man said something objurgatory under his breath, but forbore to +continue the discussion. He was wondering, as Charteris had expected +that he would, whether the latter had really got leave or not. It was a +difficult problem. + +Whether such a result was due to his mental struggles, or whether it +was simply to be attributed to his poor running, is open to question, +but the fact remains that the secretary of the Old Crockfordians did +not shine in the strangers' mile. He came in last but one, vanquishing +the pink sportsman by a foot. Charteris, after a hot finish, was beaten +on the tape by one of the weedy youths, who exhibited astounding +sprinting powers in the last two hundred yards, overhauling Charteris, +who had led all the time, in fine style, and scoring what the +_Stapleton Herald_ described as a 'highly popular victory'. + +As soon as he had recovered his normal stock of wind--which was not +immediately--it was borne in upon Charteris that if he wanted to catch +the five-fifteen back to Stapleton, he had better be beginning to +change. He went to the dressing-tent, and on examining his watch was +horrified to find that he had just ten minutes in which to do +everything, and the walk to the station, he reflected, was a long five +minutes. He literally hurled himself into his clothes, and, +disregarding the Bargee, who had entered the tent and seemed to wish to +continue the discussion at the point where they had left off, shot off +towards the gate nearest the station. He had exactly four minutes and +twenty-five seconds in which to complete the journey, and he had just +run a mile. + + + +_Chapter 5_ + +Fortunately the road was mainly level. On the other hand, he was +hampered by an overcoat. After the first hundred yards he took this +off, and carried it in an unwieldy parcel. This, he found, answered +admirably. Running became easier. He had worked the stiffness out of +his legs by this time, and was going well. Three hundred yards from the +station it was anybody's race. The exact position of the other +competitor, the train, could not be defined. It was at any rate not yet +within earshot, which meant that it still had at least a quarter of a +mile to go. Charteris considered that he had earned a rest. He slowed +down to a walk, but after proceeding at this pace for a few yards, +thought that he heard a distant whistle, and dashed on again. Suddenly +a raucous bellow of laughter greeted his ears from a spot in front of +him, hidden from his sight by a bend in the road. + +'Somebody slightly tight,' thought Charteris, rapidly diagnosing the +case. 'By Jove, if he comes rotting about with me I'll kill him.' +Having to do anything in a desperate hurry always made Charteris's +temper slightly villainous. He turned the corner at a sharp trot, and +came upon two youths who seemed to be engaged in the harmless +occupation of trying to ride a bicycle. They were of the type which he +held in especial aversion, the Rural Hooligan type, and one at least of +the two had evidently been present at a recent circulation of the +festive bowl. He was wheeling the bicycle about the road in an aimless +manner, and looked as if he wondered what was the matter with it that +it would not stay in the same place for two consecutive seconds. The +other youth was apparently of the 'Charles-his-friend' variety, content +to look on and applaud, and generally to play chorus to his companion's +'lead'. He was standing at the side of the road, smiling broadly in a +way that argued feebleness of mind. Charteris was not quite sure which +of the two types he loathed the more. He was inclined to call it a tie. + +However, there seemed to be nothing particularly lawless in what they +were doing now. If they were content to let him pass without hindrance, +he, for his part, was content generously to overlook the insult they +offered him in daring to exist, and to maintain a state of truce. But, +as he drew nearer, he saw that there was more in this business than the +casual spectator might at first have supposed. A second and keener +inspection of the reptiles revealed fresh phenomena. In the first +place, the bicycle which Hooligan number one was playing with was a +lady's bicycle, and a small one at that. Now, up to the age of fourteen +and the weight of ten stone, a beginner at cycling often finds it more +convenient to learn to ride on a lady's machine than on a gentleman's. +The former offers greater facilities for rapid dismounting, a quality +not to be despised in the earlier stages of initiation. But, though +this is undoubtedly the case, and though Charteris knew that it was so, +yet he felt instinctively that there was something wrong here. +Hooligans of twenty years and twelve stone do not learn to ride on +small ladies' machines, or, if they do, it is probably without the +permission of the small lady who owns the same. Valuable as his time +was, Charteris felt that it behoved him to spend a thoughtful minute or +so examining into this affair. He slowed down once again to a walk, +and, as he did so, his eye fell upon the character in the drama whose +absence had puzzled him, the owner of the bicycle. And from that moment +he felt that life would be a hollow mockery if he failed to fall upon +those revellers and slay them. She stood by the hedge on the right, a +forlorn little figure in grey, and she gazed sadly and helplessly at +the manoeuvres that were going on in the middle of the road. Her age +Charteris put down at a venture at twelve--a correct guess. Her state +of mind he also conjectured. She was letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I +would', like the late Macbeth, the cat i' the adage, and numerous other +celebrities. She evidently had plenty of remarks to make on the subject +in hand, but refrained from motives of prudence. + +Charteris had no such scruples. The feeling of fatigue that had been +upon him had vanished, and his temper, which had been growing steadily +worse for some twenty minutes, now boiled over gleefully at the +prospect of something solid to work itself off upon. Even without a +cause Charteris detested the Rural Hooligan. Now that a real, +copper-bottomed motive for this dislike had been supplied to him, he +felt himself capable of dealing with a whole regiment of the breed. The +criminal with the bicycle had just let it fall with a crash to the +ground when Charteris went for him low, in the style which the Babe +always insisted on seeing in members of the First Fifteen on the +football field, and hove him without comment into a damp ditch. +'Charles his friend' uttered a shout of disapproval and rushed into the +fray. Charteris gave him the straight left, of the type to which the +great John Jackson is reported to have owed so much in the days of the +old Prize Ring, and Charles, taking it between the eyes, stopped in a +discouraged and discontented manner, and began to rub the place. +Whereupon Charteris dashed in, and, to use an expression suitable to +the deed, 'swung his right at the mark'. The 'mark', it may be +explained for the benefit of the non-pugilistic, is that portion of the +anatomy which lies hid behind the third button of the human waistcoat. +It covers--in a most inadequate way--the wind, and even a gentle tap in +the locality is apt to produce a fleeting sense of discomfort. A +genuine flush hit on the spot, shrewdly administered by a muscular arm +with the weight of the body behind it, causes the passive agent in the +transaction to wish fervently, as far as he is at the moment physically +capable of wishing anything, that he had never been born. 'Charles his +friend' collapsed like an empty sack, and Charteris, getting a grip of +the outlying portions of his costume, dragged him to the ditch and +rolled him in on top of his friend, who had just recovered sufficiently +to be thinking about getting out again. The pair of them lay there in a +tangled heap. Charteris picked up the bicycle and gave it a cursory +examination. The enamel was a good deal scratched, but no material +damage had been done. He wheeled it across to its owner. + +'It isn't much hurt,' he said, as they walked on slowly together. 'Bit +scratched, that's all.' + +'Thanks _awfully_,' said the small lady. + +'Oh, not at all,' replied Charteris. 'I enjoyed it.' (He felt he had +said the right thing there. Your real hero always 'enjoys it'.) 'I'm +sorry those bargees frightened you.' + +'They did rather. But'--she added triumphantly after a pause--'I didn't +cry.' + +'Rather not,' said Charteris. 'You were awfully plucky. I noticed. But +hadn't you better ride on? Which way were you going?' + +'I wanted to get to Stapleton.' + +'Oh. That's simple enough. You've merely got to go straight on down +this road, as straight as ever you can go. But, look here, you know, +you shouldn't be out alone like this. It isn't safe. Why did they let +you?' + +The lady avoided his eye. She bent down and inspected the left pedal. + +'They shouldn't have sent you out alone,' said Charteris, 'why did +they?' + +'They--they didn't. I came.' + +There was a world of meaning in the phrase. Charteris felt that he was +in the same case. They had not let _him_. He had come. Here was a +kindred spirit, another revolutionary soul, scorning the fetters of +convention and the so-called authority of self-constituted rules, aha! +Bureaucrats! + +'Shake hands,' he said, 'I'm in just the same way.' + +They shook hands gravely. + +'You know,' said the lady, 'I'm awfully sorry I did it now. It was very +naughty.' + +'I'm not sorry yet,' said Charteris, 'I'm rather glad than otherwise. +But I expect I shall be sorry before long.' + +'Will you be sent to bed?' + +'I don't think so.' + +'Will you have to learn beastly poetry?' + +'Probably not.' + +She looked at him curiously, as if to enquire, 'then if you won't have +to learn poetry and you won't get sent to bed, what on earth is there +for you to worry about?' + +She would probably have gone on to investigate the problem further, but +at that moment there came the sound of a whistle. Then another, closer +this time. Then a faint rumbling, which increased in volume steadily. +Charteris looked back. The railway line ran by the side of the road. He +could see the smoke of a train through the trees. It was quite close +now, and coming closer every minute, and he was still quite a hundred +and fifty yards from the station gates. + +'I say,' he cried. 'Great Scott, here comes my train. I must rush. +Good-bye. You keep straight on.' + +His legs had had time to grow stiff again. For the first few strides +running was painful. But his joints soon adapted themselves to the +strain, and in ten seconds he was sprinting as fast as he had ever +sprinted off the running-track. When he had travelled a quarter of the +distance the small cyclist overtook him. + +'Be quick,' she said, 'it's just in sight.' + +Charteris quickened his stride, and, paced by the bicycle, spun along +in fine style. Forty yards from the station the train passed him. He +saw it roll into the station. There were still twenty yards to go, +exclusive of the station's steps, and he was already running as fast as +it lay in him to run. Now there were only ten. Now five. And at last, +with a hurried farewell to his companion, he bounded up the steps and +on to the platform. At the end of the platform the line took a sharp +curve to the left. Round that curve the tail end of the guard's van was +just disappearing. + +'Missed it, sir,' said the solitary porter, who managed things at +Rutton, cheerfully. He spoke as if he was congratulating Charteris on +having done something remarkably clever. + +'When's the next?' panted Charteris. + +'Eight-thirty,' was the porter's appalling reply. + +For a moment Charteris felt quite ill. No train till eight-thirty! Then +was he indeed lost. But it couldn't be true. There must be some sort of +a train between now and then. + +'Are you certain?' he said. 'Surely there's a train before that?' + +'Why, yes, sir,' said the porter gleefully, 'but they be all exprusses. +Eight-thirty be the only 'un what starps at Rootton.' + +'Thanks,' said Charteris with marked gloom, 'I don't think that'll be +much good to me. My aunt, what a hole I'm in.' + + The porter made a sympathetic and interrogative noise at the back of +his throat, as if inviting him to explain everything. But Charteris +felt unequal to conversation. There are moments when one wants to be +alone. He went down the steps again. When he got out into the road, his +small cycling friend had vanished. Charteris was conscious of a feeling +of envy towards her. She was doing the journey comfortably on a +bicycle. He would have to walk it. Walk it! He didn't believe he could. +The strangers' mile, followed by the Homeric combat with the two +Hooligans and that ghastly sprint to wind up with, had left him +decidedly unfit for further feats of pedestrianism. And it was eight +miles to Stapleton, if it was a yard, and another mile from Stapleton +to St Austin's. Charteris, having once more invoked the name of his +aunt, pulled himself together with an effort, and limped gallantly on +in the direction of Stapleton. But fate, so long hostile to him, at +last relented. A rattle of wheels approached him from behind. A thrill +of hope shot through him at the sound. There was the prospect of a +lift. He stopped, and waited for the dog-cart--it sounded like a +dog-cart--to arrive. Then he uttered a shout of rapture, and began to +wave his arms like a semaphore. The man in the dog-cart was Dr Adamson. + +'Hullo, Charteris,' said the Doctor, pulling up his horse, 'what are +you doing here?' + +'Give me a lift,' said Charteris, 'and I'll tell you. It's a long yarn. +Can I get in?' + +'Come along. Plenty of room.' + +Charteris climbed up, and sank on to the cushioned seat with a sigh of +pleasure. What glorious comfort. He had never enjoyed anything more in +his life. + +'I'm nearly dead,' he said, as the dog-cart went on again. 'This is how +it all happened. You see, it was this way--' + +And he embarked forthwith upon his narrative. + + + +_Chapter 6_ + +By special request the Doctor dropped Charteris within a hundred yards +of Merevale's door. + +'Good-night,' he said. 'I don't suppose you will value my advice at +all, but you may have it for what it is worth. I recommend you stop +this sort of game. Next time something will happen.' + +'By Jove, yes,' said Charteris, climbing painfully down from the +dog-cart, 'I'll take that advice. I'm a reformed character from this +day onwards. This sort of thing isn't good enough. Hullo, there's the +bell for lock-up. Good-night, Doctor, and thanks most awfully for the +lift. It was frightfully kind of you.' + +'Don't mention it,' said Dr Adamson, 'it is always a privilege to be in +your company. When are you coming to tea with me again?' + +'Whenever you'll have me. I must get leave, though, this time.' + +'Yes. By the way, how's Graham? It is Graham, isn't it? The fellow who +broke his collar-bone?' + +'Oh, he's getting on splendidly. Still in a sling, but it's almost well +again now. But I must be off. Good-night.' + +'Good-night. Come to tea next Monday.' + +'Right,' said Charteris; 'thanks awfully.' + +He hobbled in at Merevale's gate, and went up to his study. The Babe +was in there talking to Welch. + +'Hullo,' said the Babe, 'here's Charteris.' + +'What's left of him,' said Charteris. + +'How did it go off?' + +'Don't, please.' + +'Did you win?' asked Welch. + +'No. Second. By a yard. Oh, Lord, I am dead.' + +'Hot race?' + +'Rather. It wasn't that, though. I had to sprint all the way to the +station, and missed my train by ten seconds at the end of it all.' + +'Then how did you get here?' + +'That was the one stroke of luck I've had this afternoon. I started to +walk back, and after I'd gone about a quarter of a mile, Adamson caught +me up in his dog-cart. I suggested that it would be a Christian act on +his part to give me a lift, and he did. I shall remember Adamson in my +will.' + +'Tell us what happened.' + +'I'll tell thee everything I can,' said Charteris. 'There's little to +relate. I saw an aged, aged man a-sitting on a gate. Where do you want +me to begin?' + +'At the beginning. Don't rot.' + +'I was born,' began Charteris, 'of poor but honest parents, who sent +me to school at an early age in order that I might acquire a grasp of +the Greek and Latin languages, now obsolete. I--' + +'How did you lose?' enquired the Babe. + +'The other man beat me. If he hadn't, I should have won hands down. Oh, +I say, guess who I met at Rutton.' + +'Not a beak?' + +'No. Almost as bad, though. The Bargee man who paced me from Stapleton. +Man who crocked Tony.' + +'Great _Scott_!' cried the Babe. 'Did he recognize you?' + +'Rather. We had a very pleasant conversation.' + +'If he reports you,' began the Babe. + +'Who's that?' + +Charteris looked up. Tony Graham had entered the study. + +'Hullo, Tony! Adamson told me to remember him to you.' + +'So you've got back?' + +Charteris confirmed the hasty guess. + +'But what are you talking about, Babe?' said Tony. 'Who's going to be +reported, and who's going to report?' + +The Babe briefly explained the situation. + +'If the man,' he said, 'reports Charteris, he may get run in tomorrow, +and then we shall have both our halves away against Dacre's. Charteris, +you are a fool to go rotting about out of bounds like this.' + +'Nay, dry the starting tear,' said Charteris cheerfully. 'In the first +place, I shouldn't get kept in on a Thursday anyhow. I should be shoved +into extra on Saturday. Also, I shrewdly conveyed to the Bargee the +impression that I was at Rutton by special permission.' + +'He's bound to know that that can't be true,' said Tony. + +'Well, I told him to think it over. You see, he got so badly left last +time he tried to compass my downfall, that I shouldn't be a bit +surprised if he let the job alone this journey.' + +'Let's hope so,' said the Babe gloomily. + +'That's right, Babby,' remarked Charteris encouragingly, nodding at the +pessimist. + +'You buck up and keep looking on the bright side. It'll be all right. +You see if it won't. If there's any running in to be done, I shall do +it. I shall be frightfully fit tomorrow after all this dashing about +today. I haven't an ounce of superfluous flesh on me. I'm a fine, +strapping specimen of sturdy young English manhood. And I'm going to +play a _very_ selfish game tomorrow, Babe.' + +'Oh, my dear chap, you mustn't.' The Babe's face wore an expression of +horror. The success of the House-team in the final was very near to his +heart. He could not understand anyone jesting on the subject. Charteris +respected his anguish, and relieved it speedily. + +'I was only ragging,' he said. 'Considering that our three-quarter line +is our one strong point, I'm not likely to keep the ball from it, if I +get a chance of getting it out. Make your mind easy, Babe.' + +The final House-match was always a warmish game. The rivalry between +the various Houses was great, and the football cup especially was +fought for with immense keenness. Also, the match was the last fixture +of the season, and there was a certain feeling in the teams that if +they _did_ happen to disable a man or two, it would not matter +much. The injured sportsman would not be needed for School-match +purposes for another six months. As a result of which philosophical +reflection, the tackling was ruled slightly energetic, and the +handing-off was done with vigour. + +This year, to add a sort of finishing touch, there was just a little +ill-feeling between Dacre's and Merevale's. The cause of it was the +Babe. Until the beginning of the term he had been a day boy. Then the +news began to circulate that he was going to become a boarder, either +at Dacre's or at Merevale's. He chose the latter, and Dacre's felt +slightly aggrieved. Some of the less sportsmanlike members of the House +had proposed that a protest should be made against his being allowed to +play, but, fortunately for the credit of Dacre's, Prescott, the captain +of the House Fifteen, had put his foot down with an emphatic bang at +the suggestion. As he sagely pointed out, there were some things which +were bad form, and this was one of them. If the team wanted to express +their disapproval, said he, let them do it on the field by tackling +their very hardest. He personally was going to do his best, and he +advised them to do the same. + +The rumour of this bad blood had got about the School in some +mysterious manner, and when Swift, Merevale's only First Fifteen +forward, kicked off up the hill, a large crowd was lining the ropes. It +was evident from the outset that it would be a good game. + +Dacre's were the better side--as a team. They had no really weak spot. +But Merevale's extraordinarily strong three-quarter line somewhat made +up for an inferior scrum. And the fact that the Babe was in the centre +was worth much. + +At first Dacre's pressed. Their pack was unusually heavy for a +House-team, and they made full use of it. They took the ball down the +field in short rushes till they were in Merevale's twenty-five. Then +they began to heel, and, if things had been more or less exciting for +the Merevalians before, they became doubly so now. The ground was dry, +and so was the ball, and the game consequently waxed fast. Time after +time the ball went along Dacre's three-quarter line, only to end by +finding itself hurled, with the wing who was carrying it, into touch. +Occasionally the centres, instead of feeding their wings, would try to +dodge through themselves. And that was where the Babe came in. He was +admittedly the best tackler in the School, but on this occasion he +excelled himself. His man never had a chance of getting past. At last a +lofty kick into touch over the heads of the spectators gave the players +a few seconds' rest. + +The Babe went up to Charteris. + +'Look here,' he said, 'it's risky, but I think we'll try having the +ball out a bit.' + +'In our own twenty-five?' said Charteris. + +'Wherever we are. I believe it will come off all right. Anyway, we'll +try it. Tell the forwards.' + +For forwards playing against a pack much heavier than themselves, it is +easier to talk about letting the ball out than to do it. The first half +dozen times that Merevale's scrum tried to heel they were shoved off +their feet, and it was on the enemy's side that the ball went out. But +the seventh attempt succeeded. Out it came, cleanly and speedily. +Daintree, who was playing instead of Tony, switched it across to +Charteris. Charteris dodged the half who was marking him, and ran. +Heeling and passing in one's own twenty-five is like smoking--an +excellent practice if indulged in in moderation. On this occasion it +answered perfectly. Charteris ran to the half-way line, and handed the +ball on to the Babe. The Babe was tackled from behind, and passed to +Thomson. Thomson dodged his man, and passed to Welch on the wing. Welch +was the fastest sprinter in the School. It was a pleasure--if you did +not happen to be one of the opposing side--to see him race down the +touch-line. He was off like an arrow. Dacre's back made a futile +attempt to get at him. Welch could have given the back fifteen yards in +a hundred. He ran round him, and, amidst terrific applause from the +Merevale's-supporting section of the audience, scored between the +posts. The Babe took the kick and converted without difficulty. Five +minutes afterwards the whistle blew for half-time. + +The remainder of the game does not call for detailed description. +Dacre's pressed nearly the whole of the last half hour, but twice more +the ball came out and went down Merevale's three-quarter line. Once it +was the Babe who scored with a run from his own goal-line, and once +Charteris, who got in from half-way, dodging through the whole team. +The last ten minutes of the game was marked by a slight excess of +energy on both sides. Dacre's forwards were in a decidedly bad temper, +and fought like tigers to break through, and Merevale's played up to +them with spirit. The Babe seemed continually to be precipitating +himself at the feet of rushing forwards, and Charteris felt as if at +least a dozen bones were broken in various portions of his anatomy. The +game ended on Merevale's line, but they had won the match and the cup +by two goals and a try to nothing. + +Charteris limped off the field, cheerful but damaged. He ached all +over, and there was a large bruise on his left cheek-bone. He and Babe +were going to the House, when they were aware that the Headmaster was +beckoning to them. + +'Well, MacArthur, and what was the result of the match?' + +'We won, sir,' boomed the Babe. 'Two goals and a try to _nil_.' + +'You have hurt your cheek, Charteris?' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'How did you do that?' + +'I got a kick, sir, in one of the rushes.' + +'Ah. I should bathe it, Charteris. Bathe it well. I hope it will not be +very painful. Bathe it well in warm water.' + +He walked on. + +'You know,' said Charteris to the Babe, as they went into the House, +'the Old Man isn't such a bad sort after all. He has his points, don't +you think?' + +The Babe said that he did. + +'I'm going to reform, you know,' continued Charteris confidentially. + +'It's about time,' said the Babe. 'You can have the bath first if you +like. Only buck up.' + +Charteris boiled himself for ten minutes, and then dragged his weary +limbs to his study. It was while he was sitting in a deck-chair eating +mixed biscuits, and wondering if he would ever be able to summon up +sufficient energy to put on garments of civilization, that somebody +knocked at the door. + +'Yes,' shouted Charteris. 'What is it? Don't come in. I'm changing.' + +The melodious treble of Master Crowinshaw, his fag, made itself heard +through the keyhole. + +'The Head told me to tell you that he wanted to see you at the School +House as soon as you can go.' + +'All right,' shouted Charteris. 'Thanks.' + +'Now what,' he continued to himself, 'does the Old Man want to see me +for? Perhaps he wants to make certain that I've bathed my cheek in warm +water. Anyhow, I suppose I must go.' + +A quarter of an hour later he presented himself at the Headmagisterial +door. The sedate Parker, the Head's butler, who always filled Charteris +with a desire to dig him hard in the ribs just to see what would +happen, ushered him into the study. + +The Headmaster was reading by the light of a lamp when Charteris came +in. He laid down his book, and motioned him to a seat; after which +there was an awkward pause. + +'I have just received,' began the Head at last, 'a most unpleasant +communication. Most unpleasant. From whom it comes I do not know. It +is, in fact--er--anonymous. I am sorry that I ever read it.' + +He stopped. Charteris made no comment. He guessed what was coming. He, +too, was sorry that the Head had ever read the letter. + +'The writer says that he saw you, that he actually spoke to you, at the +athletic sports at Rutton yesterday. I have called you in to tell me if +that is true.' The Head fastened an accusing eye on his companion. + +'It is quite true, sir,' said Charteris steadily. + +'What!' said the Head sharply. 'You were at Rutton?' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'You were perfectly aware, I suppose, that you were breaking the School +rules by going there, Charteris?' enquired the Head in a cold voice. + +'Yes, sir.' There was another pause. + +'This is very serious,' began the Head. 'I cannot overlook this. I--' + +There was a slight scuffle of feet in the passage outside. The door +flew open vigorously, and a young lady entered. It was, as Charteris +recognized in a minute, his acquaintance of the afternoon, the young +lady of the bicycle. + +'Uncle,' she said, 'have you seen my book anywhere?' + +'Hullo!' she broke off as her eye fell on Charteris. + +'Hullo!' said Charteris, affably, not to be outdone in the courtesies. + +'Did you catch your train?' + +'No. Missed it.' + +'Hullo! what's the matter with your cheek?' + +'I got a kick on it.' + +'Oh, does it hurt?' + +'Not much, thanks.' + +Here the Head, feeling perhaps a little out of it, put in his oar. + +'Dorothy, you must not come here now. I am busy. And how, may I ask, do +you and Charteris come to be acquainted?' + +'Why, he's him,' said Dorothy lucidly. + +The Head looked puzzled. + +'Him. The chap, you know.' + +It is greatly to the Head's credit that he grasped the meaning of these +words. Long study of the classics had quickened his faculty for seeing +sense in passages where there was none. The situation dawned upon him. + +'Do you mean to tell me, Dorothy, that it was Charteris who came to +your assistance yesterday?' + +Dorothy nodded energetically. + +'He gave the men beans,' she said. 'He did, really,' she went on, +regardless of the Head's look of horror. 'He used right and left with +considerable effect.' + +Dorothy's brother, a keen follower of the Ring, had been good enough +some days before to read her out an extract from an account in _The +Sportsman_ of a match at the National Sporting Club, and the account +had been much to her liking. She regarded it as a masterpiece of +English composition. + +'Dorothy,' said the Headmaster, 'run away to bed.' A suggestion which +she treated with scorn, it wanting a clear two hours to her legal +bedtime. 'I must speak to your mother about your deplorable habit of +using slang. Dear me, I must certainly speak to her.' + +And, shamefully unabashed, Dorothy retired. + +The Head was silent for a few minutes after she had gone; then he +turned to Charteris again. + +'In consideration of this, Charteris, I shall--er--mitigate slightly +the punishment I had intended to give you.' + +Charteris murmured his gratification. + +'But,' continued the Head sternly, 'I cannot overlook the offence. I +have my duty to consider. You will therefore write me--er--ten lines of +Virgil by tomorrow evening, Charteris.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Latin _and_ English,' said the relentless pedagogue. + +'Yes, sir.' + +'And, Charteris--I am speaking now--er--unofficially, not as a +headmaster, you understand--if in future you would cease to break +School rules simply as a matter of principle, for that, I fancy, is what +it amounts to, I--er--well, I think we should get on better together. +And that is, on my part at least, a consummation--er--devoutly to be +wished. Good-night, Charteris.' + +'Good-night, sir.' + +The Head extended a large hand. Charteris took it, and his departure. + +The Headmaster opened his book again, and turned over a new leaf. +Charteris at the same moment, walking slowly in the direction of +Merevale's, was resolving for the future to do the very same thing. And +he did. + + + + +[9] + +HOW PAYNE BUCKED UP + + +It was Walkinshaw's affair from the first. Grey, the captain of the St +Austin's Fifteen, was in the infirmary nursing a bad knee. To him came +Charles Augustus Walkinshaw with a scheme. Walkinshaw was football +secretary, and in Grey's absence acted as captain. Besides these two +there were only a couple of last year's team left--Reade and Barrett, +both of Philpott's House. + +'Hullo, Grey, how's the knee?' said Walkinshaw. + +'How's the team getting on?' he said. + +'Well, as far as I can see,' said Walkinshaw, 'we ought to have a +rather good season, if you'd only hurry up and come back. We beat a +jolly hot lot of All Comers yesterday. Smith was playing for them. The +Blue, you know. And lots of others. We got a goal and a try to +_nil_.' + +'Good,' said Grey. 'Who did anything for us? Who scored?' + +'I got in once. Payne got the other.' + +'By Jove, did he? What sort of a game is he playing this year?' + +The moment had come for Walkinshaw to unburden himself to his scheme. +He proceeded to do so. + +'Not up to much,' he said. 'Look here, Grey, I've got rather an idea. +It's my opinion Payne's not bucking up nearly as much as he might. Do +you mind if I leave him out of the next game?' + +Grey stared. The idea was revolutionary. + +'What! Leave him out? My good man, he'll be the next chap to get his +colours. He's a cert. for his cap.' + +'That's just it. He knows he's a cert., and he's slacking on the +strength of it. Now, my idea is that if you slung him out for a match +or two, he'd buck up extra hard when he came into the team again. Can't +I have a shot at it?' + +Grey weighed the matter. Walkinshaw pressed home his arguments. + +'You see, it isn't like cricket. At cricket, of course, it might put a +chap off awfully to be left out, but I don't see how it can hurt a +man's play at footer. Besides, he's beginning to stick on side +already.' + +'Is he, by Jove?' said Grey. This was the unpardonable sin. 'Well, I'll +tell you what you can do if you like. Get up a scratch game, First +Fifteen _v._ Second, and make him captain of the Second.' + +'Right,' said Walkinshaw, and retired beaming. + +Walkinshaw, it may be remarked at once, to prevent mistakes, was a +well-meaning idiot. There was no doubt about his being well-meaning. +Also, there was no doubt about his being an idiot. He was continually +getting insane ideas into his head, and being unable to get them out +again. This matter of Payne was a good example of his customary +methods. He had put his hand on the one really first-class forward St +Austin's possessed, and proposed to remove him from the team. And yet +through it all he was perfectly well-meaning. The fact that personally +he rather disliked Payne had, to do him justice, no weight at all with +him. He would have done the same by his bosom friend under like +circumstances. This is the only excuse that can be offered for him. It +was true that Payne regarded himself as a certainty for his colours, as +far as anything can be considered certain in this vale of sorrow. But +to accuse him of trading on this, and, to use the vernacular, of +putting on side, was unjust to a degree. + +On the afternoon following this conversation Payne, who was a member of +Dacre's House, came into his study and banged his books down on the +table with much emphasis. This was a sign that he was feeling +dissatisfied with the way in which affairs were conducted in the world. +Bowden, who was asleep in an armchair--he had been staying in with a +cold--woke with a start. Bowden shared Payne's study. He played centre +three-quarter for the Second Fifteen. + +'Hullo!' he said. + +Payne grunted. Bowden realized that matters had not been going well +with him. He attempted to soothe him with conversation, choosing what +he thought would be a congenial topic. + +'What's on on Saturday?' he asked. + +'Scratch game. First _v._ Second.' + +Bowden groaned. + +'I know those First _v._ Second games,' he said. 'They turn the +Second out to get butchered for thirty-five minutes each way, to +improve the First's combination. It may be fun for the First, but it's +not nearly so rollicking for us. Look here, Payne, if you find me with +the pill at any time, you can let me down easy, you know. You needn't +go bringing off any of your beastly gallery tackles.' + +'I won't,' said Payne. 'To start with, it would be against rules. We +happen to be on the same side.' + +'Rot, man; I'm not playing for the First.' This was the only +explanation that occurred to him. + +'I'm playing for the Second.' + +'What! Are you certain?' + +'I've seen the list. They're playing Babington instead of me.' + +'But why? Babington's no good.' + +'I think they have a sort of idea I'm slacking or something. At any +rate, Walkinshaw told me that if I bucked up I might get tried again.' + +'Silly goat,' said Bowden. 'What are you going to do?' + +'I'm going to take his advice, and buck up.' + +II + +He did. At the beginning of the game the ropes were lined by some +thirty spectators, who had come to derive a languid enjoyment from +seeing the First pile up a record score. By half-time their numbers had +risen to an excited mob of something over three hundred, and the second +half of the game was fought out to the accompaniment of a storm of +yells and counter yells such as usually only belonged to +school-matches. The Second Fifteen, after a poor start, suddenly awoke +to the fact that this was not going to be the conventional massacre by +any means. The First had scored an unconverted try five minutes after +the kick-off, and it was after this that the Second began to get +together. The school back bungled the drop out badly, and had to find +touch in his own twenty-five, and after that it was anyone's game. The +scrums were a treat to behold. Payne was a monument of strength. Time +after time the Second had the ball out to their three-quarters, and +just after half-time Bowden slipped through in the corner. The kick +failed, and the two teams, with their scores equal now, settled down +grimly to fight the thing out to a finish. But though they remained on +their opponents' line for most of the rest of the game, the Second did +not add to their score, and the match ended in a draw of three points +all. + +The first intimation Grey received of this came to him late in the +evening. He had been reading a novel which, whatever its other merits +may have been, was not interesting, and it had sent him to sleep. He +awoke to hear a well-known voice observe with some unction: 'Ah! M'yes. +Leeches and hot fomentations.' This effectually banished sleep. If +there were two things in the world that he loathed, they were leeches +and hot fomentations, and the School doctor apparently regarded them as +a panacea for every kind of bodily ailment, from a fractured skull to a +cold in the head. It was this gentleman who had just spoken, but Grey's +alarm vanished as he perceived that the words had no personal +application to himself. The object of the remark was a fellow-sufferer +in the next bed but one. Now Grey was certain that when he had fallen +asleep there had been nobody in that bed. When, therefore, the medical +expert had departed on his fell errand, the quest of leeches and hot +fomentations, he sat up and gave tongue. + +'Who's that in that bed?' he asked. + +'Hullo, Grey,' replied a voice. 'Didn't know you were awake. I've come +to keep you company.' + +'That you, Barrett? What's up with you?' + +'Collar-bone. Dislocated it or something. Reade's over in that corner. +He has bust his ankle. Oh, yes, we've been having a nice, cheery +afternoon,' concluded Barrett bitterly. + +'Great Scott! How did it happen?' + +'Payne.' + +'Where? In your collar-bone?' + +'Yes. That wasn't what I meant, though. What I was explaining was that +Payne got hold of me in the middle of the field, and threw me into +touch. After which he fell on me. That was enough for my simple needs. +I'm not grasping.' + +'How about Reade?' + +'The entire Second scrum collapsed on top of Reade. When we dug him out +his ankle was crocked. Mainspring gone, probably. Then they gathered up +the pieces and took them gently away. I don't know how it all ended.' + +Just then Walkinshaw burst into the room. He had a large bruise over +one eye, his arm was in a sling, and he limped. But he was in excellent +spirits. + +'I knew I was right, by Jove,' he observed to Grey. 'I knew he could +buck up if he liked.' + +'I know it now,' said Barrett. + +'Who's this you're talking about?' said Grey. + +'Payne. I've never seen anything like the game he played today. He was +everywhere. And, by Jove, his _tackling_!' + +'Don't,' said Barrett, wearily. + +'It's the best match I ever played in,' said Walkinshaw, bubbling over +with enthusiasm. 'Do you know, the Second had all the best of the +game.' + +'What was the score?' + +'Draw. One try all.' + +'And now I suppose you're satisfied?' enquired Barrett. The great +scheme for the regeneration of Payne had been confided to him by its +proud patentee. + +'Almost,' said Walkinshaw. 'We'll continue the treatment for one more +game, and then we'll have him simply fizzing for the Windybury match. +That's next Saturday. By the way, I'm afraid you'll hardly be fit again +in time for that, Barrett, will you?' + +'I may possibly,' said Barrett, coldly, 'be getting about again in time +for the Windybury match of the year after next. This year I'm afraid I +shall not have the pleasure. And I should strongly advise you, if you +don't want to have to put a team of cripples into the field, to +discontinue the treatment, as you call it.' + +'Oh, I don't know,' said Walkinshaw. + +On the following Wednesday evening, at five o'clock, something was +carried in on a stretcher, and deposited in the bed which lay between +Grey and Barrett. Close scrutiny revealed the fact that it was what had +once been Charles Augustus Walkinshaw. He was slightly broken up. + +'Payne?' enquired Grey in chilly tones. + +Walkinshaw admitted the impeachment. + +Grey took a pencil and a piece of paper from the table at his side. 'If +you want to know what I'm doing,' he said, 'I'm writing out the team +for the Windybury match, and I'm going to make Payne captain, as the +senior Second Fifteen man. And if we win I'm jolly well going to give +him his cap after the match. If we don't win, it'll be the fault of a +raving lunatic of the name of Walkinshaw, with his beastly Colney Hatch +schemes for reforming slack forwards. You utter rotter!' + +Fortunately for the future peace of mind of C. A. Walkinshaw, the +latter contingency did not occur. The School, in spite of its +absentees, contrived to pull the match off by a try to _nil_. +Payne, as was only right and proper, scored the try, making his way +through the ranks of the visiting team with the quiet persistence of a +steam-roller. After the game he came to tea, by request, at the +infirmary, and was straightaway invested by Grey with his First Fifteen +colours. On his arrival he surveyed the invalids with interest. + +'Rough game, footer,' he observed at length. + +'Don't mention it,' said Barrett politely. 'Leeches,' he added +dreamily. 'Leeches and hot fomentations. _Boiling_ fomentations. +Will somebody kindly murder Walkinshaw!' + +'Why?' asked Payne, innocently. + + + + +[10] + +AUTHOR! + + +J. S. M. Babington, of Dacre's House, was on the horns of a dilemma. +Circumstances over which he had had no control had brought him, like +another Hercules, to the cross-roads, and had put before him the choice +between pleasure and duty, or, rather, between pleasure and what those +in authority called duty. Being human, he would have had little +difficulty in making his decision, had not the path of pleasure been so +hedged about by danger as to make him doubt whether after all the thing +could be carried through. + +The facts in the case were these. It was the custom of the mathematical +set to which J. S. M. Babington belonged, 4B to wit, to relieve the +tedium of the daily lesson with a species of round game which was +played as follows. As soon as the master had taken his seat, one of the +players would execute a manoeuvre calculated to draw attention on +himself, such as dropping a book or upsetting the blackboard. Called up +to the desk to give explanation, he would embark on an eloquent speech +for the defence. This was the cue for the next player to begin. His +part consisted in making his way to the desk and testifying to the +moral excellence of his companion, and giving in full the reasons why +he should be discharged without a stain upon his character. As soon as +he had warmed to his work he would be followed by a third player, and +so on until the standing room around the desk was completely filled +with a great cloud of witnesses. The duration of the game varied, of +course, considerably. On some occasions it could be played through with +such success, that the master would enter into the spirit of the thing, +and do his best to book the names of all offenders at one and the same +time, a feat of no inconsiderable difficulty. At other times matters +would come to a head more rapidly. In any case, much innocent fun was +to be derived from it, and its popularity was great. On the day, +however, on which this story opens, a new master had been temporarily +loosed into the room in place of the Rev. Septimus Brown, who had been +there as long as the oldest inhabitant could remember. The Rev. +Septimus was a wrangler, but knew nothing of the ways of the human boy. +His successor, Mr Reginald Seymour, was a poor mathematician, but a +good master. He had been, moreover, a Cambridge Rugger Blue. This fact +alone should have ensured him against the customary pleasantries, for a +Blue is a man to be respected. It was not only injudicious, therefore, +but positively wrong of Babington to plunge against the blackboard on +his way to his place. If he had been a student of Tennyson, he might +have remembered that the old order is in the habit of changing and +yielding place to the new. + +Mr Seymour looked thoughtfully for a moment +at the blackboard. + +'That was rather a crude effort,' he said pleasantly to Babington, 'you +lack _finesse_. Pick it up again, please.' + +Babington picked it up without protest. Under the rule of the Rev. +Septimus this would have been the signal for the rest of the class to +leave their places and assist him, but now they seemed to realize that +there was a time for everything, and that this was decidedly no time +for indoor games. + +'Thank you,' said Mr Seymour, when the board was in its place again. +'What is your name? Eh, what? I didn't quite hear.' + +'Babington, sir.' + +'Ah. You had better come in tomorrow at two and work out examples three +hundred to three-twenty in "Hall and Knight". There is really plenty of +room to walk in between that desk and the blackboard. It only wants +practice.' + +What was left of Babington then went to his seat. He felt that his +reputation as an artistic player of the game had received a shattering +blow. Then there was the imposition. This in itself would have troubled +him little. To be kept in on a half-holiday is annoying, but it is one +of those ills which the flesh is heir to, and your true philosopher can +always take his gruel like a man. + +But it so happened that by the evening post he had received a letter +from a cousin of his, who was a student at Guy's, and from all accounts +was building up a great reputation in the medical world. From this +letter it appeared that by a complicated process of knowing people who +knew other people who had influence with the management, he had +contrived to obtain two tickets for a morning performance of the new +piece that had just been produced at one of the theatres. And if Mr J. +S. M. Babington wished to avail himself of the opportunity, would he +write by return, and be at Charing Cross Underground bookstall at +twenty past two. + +Now Babington, though he objected strongly to the drama of ancient +Greece, was very fond of that of the present day, and he registered a +vow that if the matter could possibly be carried through, it should be. +His choice was obvious. He could cut his engagement with Mr Seymour, or +he could keep it. The difficulty lay rather in deciding upon one or +other of the alternatives. The whole thing turned upon the extent of +the penalty in the event of detection. + +That was his dilemma. He sought advice. + +'I should risk it,' said his bosom friend Peterson. + +'I shouldn't advise you to,' remarked Jenkins. + +Jenkins was equally a bosom friend, and in the matter of wisdom in no +way inferior to Peterson. + +'What would happen, do you think?' asked Babington. + +'Sack,' said one authority. + +'Jaw, and double impot,' said another. + +'The _Daily Telegraph_,' muttered the tempter in a stage aside, +'calls it the best comedy since Sheridan.' + +'So it does,' thought Babington. 'I'll risk it.' + +'You'll be a fool if you do,' croaked the gloomy Jenkins. 'You're bound +to be caught.' But the Ayes had it. Babington wrote off that night +accepting the invitation. + +It was with feelings of distinct relief that he heard Mr Seymour +express to another master his intention of catching the twelve-fifteen +train up to town. It meant that he would not be on the scene to see him +start on the 'Hall and Knight'. Unless luck were very much against him, +Babington might reasonably hope that he would accept the imposition +without any questions. He had taken the precaution to get the examples +finished overnight, with the help of Peterson and Jenkins, aided by a +weird being who actually appeared to like algebra, and turned out ten +of the twenty problems in an incredibly short time in exchange for a +couple of works of fiction (down) and a tea (at a date). He himself +meant to catch the one-thirty, which would bring him to town in good +time. Peterson had promised to answer his name at roll-call, a delicate +operation, in which long practice had made him, like many others of the +junior members of the House, no mean proficient. + +It would be pleasant for a conscientious historian to be able to say +that the one-thirty broke down just outside Victoria, and that +Babington arrived at the theatre at the precise moment when the curtain +fell and the gratified audience began to stream out. But truth, though +it crush me. The one-thirty was so punctual that one might have thought +that it belonged to a line other than the line to which it did belong. +From Victoria to Charing Cross is a journey that occupies no +considerable time, and Babington found himself at his destination with +five minutes to wait. At twenty past his cousin arrived, and they made +their way to the theatre. A brief skirmish with a liveried menial in +the lobby, and they were in their seats. + +Some philosopher, of extraordinary powers of intuition, once informed +the world that the best of things come at last to an end. The statement +was tested, and is now universally accepted as correct. To apply the +general to the particular, the play came to an end amidst uproarious +applause, to which Babington contributed an unstinted quotum, about +three hours after it had begun. + +'What do you say to going and grubbing somewhere?' asked Babington's +cousin, as they made their way out. + +'Hullo, there's that man Richards,' he continued, before Babington +could reply that of all possible actions he considered that of going +and grubbing somewhere the most desirable. 'Fellow I know at Guy's, you +know,' he added, in explanation. 'I'll get him to join us. You'll like +him, I expect.' + +Richards professed himself delighted, and shook hands with Babington +with a fervour which seemed to imply that until he had met him life had +been a dreary blank, but that now he could begin to enjoy himself +again. 'I should like to join you, if you don't mind including a friend +of mine in the party,' said Richards. 'He was to meet me here. By the +way, he's the author of that new piece--_The Way of the World.'_ + +'Why, we've just been there.' + +'Oh, then you will probably like to meet him. Here he is.' + +As he spoke a man came towards them, and, with a shock that sent all +the blood in his body to the very summit of his head, and then to the +very extremities of his boots, Babington recognized Mr Seymour. The +assurance of the programme that the play was by Walter Walsh was a +fraud. Nay worse, a downright and culpable lie. He started with the +vague idea of making a rush for safety, but before his paralysed limbs +could be induced to work, Mr Seymour had arrived, and he was being +introduced (oh, the tragic irony of it) to the man for whose benefit he +was at that very moment supposed to be working out examples three +hundred to three-twenty in 'Hall and Knight'. + +Mr Seymour shook hands, without appearing to recognize him. Babington's +blood began to resume its normal position again, though he felt that +this seeming ignorance of his identity might be a mere veneer, a wile +of guile, as the bard puts it. He remembered, with a pang, a story in +some magazine where a prisoner was subjected to what the light-hearted +inquisitors called the torture of hope. He was allowed to escape from +prison, and pass guards and sentries apparently without their noticing +him. Then, just as he stepped into the open air, the chief inquisitor +tapped him gently on the shoulder, and, more in sorrow than in anger, +reminded him that it was customary for condemned men to remain +_inside_ their cells. Surely this was a similar case. But then the +thought came to him that Mr Seymour had only seen him once, and so +might possibly have failed to remember him, for there was nothing +special about Babington's features that arrested the eye, and stamped +them on the brain for all time. He was rather ordinary than otherwise +to look at. At tea, as bad luck would have it, the two sat opposite one +another, and Babington trembled. Then the worst happened. Mr Seymour, +who had been looking attentively at him for some time, leaned forward +and said in a tone evidently devoid of suspicion: 'Haven't we met +before somewhere? I seem to remember your face.' + +'Er--no, no,' replied Babington. 'That is, I think not. We may have.' + +'I feel sure we have. What school are you at?' + +Babington's soul began to writhe convulsively. + +'What, what school? Oh, what _school_? Why, er--I'm +at--er--Uppingham.' + +Mr Seymour's face assumed a pleased expression. + +'Uppingham? Really. Why, I know several Uppingham fellows. Do you know +Mr Morton? He's a master at Uppingham, and a great friend of mine.' + +The room began to dance briskly before Babington's eyes, but he +clutched at a straw, or what he thought was a straw. + +'Uppingham? Did I say Uppingham? Of course, I mean Rugby, you know, +Rugby. One's always mixing the two up, you know. Isn't one?' + +Mr Seymour looked at him in amazement. Then he looked at the others as +if to ask which of the two was going mad, he or the youth opposite him. +Babington's cousin listened to the wild fictions which issued from his +lips in equal amazement. He thought he must be ill. Even Richards had a +fleeting impression that it was a little odd that a fellow should +forget what school he was at, and mistake the name Rugby for that of +Uppingham, or _vice versa_. Babington became an object of +interest. + +'I say, Jack,' said the cousin, 'you're feeling all right, aren't you? +I mean, you don't seem to know what you're talking about. If you're +going to be ill, say so, and I'll prescribe for you.' + +'Is he at Rugby?' asked Mr Seymour. + +'No, of course he's not. How could he have got from Rugby to London in +time for a morning performance? Why, he's at St Austin's.' + +Mr Seymour sat for a moment in silence, taking this in. Then he +chuckled. 'It's all right,' he said, 'he's not ill. We have met before, +but under such painful circumstances that Master Babington very +thoughtfully dissembled, in order not to remind me of them.' + +He gave a brief synopsis of what had occurred. The audience, exclusive +of Babington, roared with laughter. + +'I suppose,' said the cousin, 'you won't prosecute, will you? It's +really such shocking luck, you know, that you ought to forget you're a +master.' + +Mr Seymour stirred his tea and added another lump of sugar very +carefully before replying. Babington watched him in silence, and wished +that he would settle the matter quickly, one way or the other. + +'Fortunately for Babington,' said Mr Seymour, 'and unfortunately for +the cause of morality, I am not a master. I was only a stop-gap, and my +term of office ceased today at one o'clock. Thus the prisoner at the +bar gets off on a technical point of law, and I trust it will be a +lesson to him. I suppose you had the sense to do the imposition?' + +'Yes, sir, I sat up last night.' + +'Good. Now, if you'll take my advice, you'll reform, or another +day you'll come to a bad end. By the way, how did you manage about +roll-call today?' + +'I thought that was an awfully good part just at the end of the first +act,' said Babington. + +Mr Seymour smiled. Possibly from gratification. + +'Well, how did it go off?' asked Peterson that night. + +'Don't, old chap,' said Babington, faintly. + +'I told you so,' said Jenkins at a venture. + +But when he had heard the whole story he withdrew the remark, and +commented on the wholly undeserved good luck some people seemed to +enjoy. + + + + +[11] + +'THE TABBY TERROR' + + +The struggle between Prater's cat and Prater's cat's conscience was +short, and ended in the hollowest of victories for the former. The +conscience really had no sort of chance from the beginning. It was weak +by nature and flabby from long want of exercise, while the cat was in +excellent training, and was, moreover, backed up by a strong +temptation. It pocketed the stakes, which consisted of most of the +contents of a tin of sardines, and left unostentatiously by the window. +When Smith came in after football, and found the remains, he was +surprised, and even pained. When Montgomery entered soon afterwards, he +questioned him on the subject. + +'I say, have you been having a sort of preliminary canter with the +banquet?' + +'No,' said Montgomery. 'Why?' + +'Somebody has,' said Smith, exhibiting the empty tin. 'Doesn't seem to +have had such a bad appetite, either.' + +'This reminds me of the story of the great bear, the medium bear, and +the little ditto,' observed Montgomery, who was apt at an analogy. 'You +may remember that when the great bear found his porridge tampered with, +he--' + +At this point Shawyer entered. He had been bidden to the feast, and was +feeling ready for it. + +'Hullo, tea ready?' he asked. + +Smith displayed the sardine tin in much the same manner as the conjurer +shows a pack of cards when he entreats you to choose one, and remember +the number. + +'You haven't finished already, surely? Why, it's only just five.' + +'We haven't even begun,' said Smith. 'That's just the difficulty. The +question is, who has been on the raid in here?' + +'No human being has done this horrid thing,' said Montgomery. He always +liked to introduce a Holmes-Watsonian touch into the conversation. 'In +the first place, the door was locked, wasn't it, Smith?' + +'By Jove, so it was. Then how on earth--?' + +'Through the window, of course. The cat, equally of course. I should +like a private word with that cat.' + +'I suppose it must have been.' + +'Of course it was. Apart from the merely circumstantial evidence, which +is strong enough to hang it off its own bat, we have absolute proof of +its guilt. Just cast your eye over that butter. You follow me, Watson?' + +The butter was submitted to inspection. In the very centre of it there +was a footprint. + +'_I_ traced his little footprints in the butter,' said Montgomery. +'Now, is that the mark of a human foot?' + +The jury brought in a unanimous verdict of guilty against the missing +animal, and over a sorrowful cup of tea, eked out with bread and +jam--butter appeared to be unpopular--discussed the matter in all its +bearings. The cat had not been an inmate of Prater's House for a very +long time, and up till now what depredation it had committed had been +confined to the official larder. Now, however, it had evidently got its +hand in, and was about to commence operations upon a more extensive +scale. The Tabby Terror had begun. Where would it end? The general +opinion was that something would have to be done about it. No one +seemed to know exactly what to do. Montgomery spoke darkly of bricks, +bits of string, and horse-ponds. Smith rolled the word 'rat-poison' +luxuriously round his tongue. Shawyer, who was something of an expert +on the range, babbled of air-guns. + +At tea on the following evening the first really serious engagement of +the campaign took place. The cat strolled into the tea-room in the +patronizing way characteristic of his kind, but was heavily shelled +with lump-sugar, and beat a rapid retreat. That was the signal for the +outbreak of serious hostilities. From that moment its paw was against +every man, and the tale of the things it stole is too terrible to +relate in detail. It scored all along the line. Like Death in the poem, +it knocked at the doors of the highest and the lowest alike. Or rather, +it did not exactly knock. It came in without knocking. The palace of +the prefect and the hovel of the fag suffered equally. Trentham, the +head of the House, lost sausages to an incredible amount one evening, +and the next day Ripton, of the Lower Third, was robbed of his one ewe +lamb in the shape of half a tin of anchovy paste. Panic reigned. + +It was after this matter of the sausages that a luminous idea occurred +to Trentham. He had been laid up with a slight football accident, and +his family, reading between the lines of his written statement that he +'had got crocked at footer, nothing much, only (rather a nuisance) +might do him out of the House-matches', a notification of mortal +injuries, and seeming to hear a death-rattle through the words 'felt +rather chippy yesterday', had come down _en masse_ to investigate. +_En masse,_ that is to say, with the exception of his father, who +said he was too busy, but felt sure it was nothing serious. ('Why, when +I was a boy, my dear, I used to think nothing of an occasional tumble. +There's nothing the matter with Dick. Why, etc., etc.') + +Trentham's sister was his first visitor. + +'I say,' said he, when he had satisfied her on the subject of his +health, 'would you like to do me a good turn?' + +She intimated that she would be delighted, and asked for details. + +_'Buy the beak's cat,'_ hissed Trentham, in a hoarse whisper. + +'Dick, it _was_ your leg that you hurt, wasn't it? Not--not your +head?' she replied. 'I mean--' + +'No, I really mean it. Why can't you? It's a perfectly simple thing to +do.' + +'But what _is_ a beak? And why should I buy its cat?' + +'A beak's a master. Surely you know that. You see, Prater's got a cat +lately, and the beast strolls in and raids the studies. Got round over +half a pound of prime sausages in here the other night, and he's always +bagging things everywhere. You'd be doing everyone a kindness if you +would take him on. He'll get lynched some day if you don't. Besides, +you want a cat for your new house, surely. Keep down the mice, and that +sort of thing, you know. This animal's a demon for mice.' This was a +telling argument. Trentham's sister had lately been married, and she +certainly had had some idea of investing in a cat to adorn her home. +'As for beetles,' continued the invalid, pushing home his advantage, +'they simply daren't come out of their lairs for fear of him.' + +'If he eats beetles,' objected his sister, 'he can't have a very good +coat.' + +'He doesn't eat them. Just squashes them, you know, like a policeman. +He's a decent enough beast as far as looks go.' + +'But if he steals things--' + +'No, don't you see, he only does that here, because the Praters don't +interfere with him and don't let us do anything to him. He won't try +that sort of thing on with you. If he does, get somebody to hit him +over the head with a boot-jack or something. He'll soon drop it then. +You might as well, you know. The House'll simply black your boots if +you do.' + +'But would Mr Prater let me have the cat?' + +'Try him, anyhow. Pitch it fairly warm, you know. Only cat you ever +loved, and that sort of thing.' + +'Very well. I'll try.' + +'Thanks, awfully. And, I say, you might just look in here on your way +out and report.' + +Mrs James Williamson, nee Miss Trentham, made her way dutifully to the +Merevale's part of the House. Mrs Prater had expressed a hope that she +would have some tea before catching her train. With tea it is usual to +have milk, and with milk it is usual, if there is a cat in the house, +to have feline society. Captain Kettle, which was the name thought +suitable to this cat by his godfathers and godmothers, was on hand +early. As he stood there pawing the mat impatiently, and mewing in a +minor key, Mrs Williamson felt that here was the cat for her. He +certainly was good to look upon. His black heart was hidden by a sleek +coat of tabby fur, which rendered stroking a luxury. His scheming brain +was out of sight in a shapely head. + +'Oh, what a lovely cat!' said Mrs Williamson. + +'Yes, isn't he,' agreed Mrs Prater. 'We are very proud of him.' + +'Such a beautiful coat!' + +'And such a sweet purr!' + +'He looks so intelligent. Has he any tricks?' + +Had he any tricks! Why, Mrs Williamson, he could do everything except +speak. Captain Kettle, you bad boy, come here and die for your country. +Puss, puss. + +Captain Kettle came at last reluctantly, died for his country in record +time, and flashed back again to the saucer. He had an important +appointment. Sorry to appear rude and all that sort of thing, don't you +know, but he had to see a cat about a mouse. + +'Well?' said Trentham, when his sister looked in upon him an hour +later. + +'Oh, Dick, it's the nicest cat I ever saw. I shall never be happy if I +don't get it.' + +'Have you bought it?' asked the practical Trentham. + +'My dear Dick, I couldn't. We couldn't bargain about a cat during tea. +Why, I never met Mrs Prater before this afternoon.' + +'No, I suppose not,' admitted Trentham, gloomily. 'Anyhow, look here, +if anything turns up to make the beak want to get rid of it, I'll tell +him you're dead nuts on it. See?' + +For a fortnight after this episode matters went on as before. Mrs +Williamson departed, thinking regretfully of the cat she had left +behind her. + +Captain Kettle died for his country with moderate regularity, and on +one occasion, when he attempted to extract some milk from the very +centre of a fag's tea-party, almost died for another reason. Then the +end came suddenly. + +Trentham had been invited to supper one Sunday by Mr Prater. When he +arrived it became apparent to him that the atmosphere was one of +subdued gloom. At first he could not understand this, but soon the +reason was made clear. Captain Kettle had, in the expressive language +of the man in the street, been and gone and done it. He had been left +alone that evening in the drawing-room, while the House was at church, +and his eye, roaming restlessly about in search of evil to perform, had +lighted upon a cage. In that cage was a special sort of canary, in its +own line as accomplished an artiste as Captain Kettle himself. It sang +with taste and feeling, and made itself generally agreeable in a number +of little ways. But to Captain Kettle it was merely a bird. One of the +poets sings of an acquaintance of his who was so constituted that 'a +primrose by the river's brim a simple primrose was to him, and it was +nothing more'. Just so with Captain Kettle. He was not the cat to make +nice distinctions between birds. Like the cat in another poem, he only +knew they made him light and salutary meals. So, with the exercise of +considerable ingenuity, he extracted that canary from its cage and ate +it. He was now in disgrace. + +'We shall have to get rid of him,' said Mr Prater. + +'I'm afraid so,' said Mrs Prater. + +'If you weren't thinking of giving him to anyone in particular, sir,' +said Trentham, 'my sister would be awfully glad to take him, I know. +She was very keen on him when she came to see me.' + +'That's excellent,' said Prater. 'I was afraid we should have to send +him to a home somewhere.' + +'I suppose we can't keep him after all?' suggested Mrs Prater. + +Trentham waited in suspense. + +'No,' said Prater, decidedly. 'I think _not_.' So Captain Kettle +went, and the House knew him no more, and the Tabby Terror was at an +end. + + + + +[12] + +THE PRIZE POEM + + +Some quarter of a century before the period with which this story +deals, a certain rich and misanthropic man was seized with a bright +idea for perpetuating his memory after death, and at the same time +harassing a certain section of mankind. So in his will he set aside a +portion of his income to be spent on an annual prize for the best poem +submitted by a member of the Sixth Form of St Austin's College, on a +subject to be selected by the Headmaster. And, he added--one seems to +hear him chuckling to himself--every member of the form must compete. +Then he died. But the evil that men do lives after them, and each year +saw a fresh band of unwilling bards goaded to despair by his bequest. +True, there were always one or two who hailed this ready market for +their sonnets and odes with joy. But the majority, being barely able to +rhyme 'dove' with 'love', regarded the annual announcement of the +subject chosen with feelings of the deepest disgust. + +The chains were thrown off after a period of twenty-seven years in this +fashion. + +Reynolds of the Remove was indirectly the cause of the change. He was +in the infirmary, convalescing after an attack of German measles, when +he received a visit from Smith, an ornament of the Sixth. + +'By Jove,' remarked that gentleman, gazing enviously round the +sick-room, 'they seem to do you pretty well here.' + +'Yes, not bad, is it? Take a seat. Anything been happening lately?' + +'Nothing much. I suppose you know we beat the M.C.C. by a wicket?' + +'Yes, so I heard. Anything else?' + +'Prize poem,' said Smith, without enthusiasm. He was not a poet. + +Reynolds became interested at once. If there was one role in which he +fancied himself (and, indeed, there were a good many), it was that of a +versifier. His great ambition was to see some of his lines in print, +and he had contracted the habit of sending them up to various +periodicals, with no result, so far, except the arrival of rejected +MSS. at meal-times in embarrassingly long envelopes. Which he +blushingly concealed with all possible speed. + +'What's the subject this year?' he asked. + +'The College--of all idiotic things.' + +'Couldn't have a better subject for an ode. By Jove, I wish I was in +the Sixth.' + +'Wish I was in the infirmary,' said Smith. + +Reynolds was struck with an idea. + +'Look here, Smith,' he said, 'if you like I'll do you a poem, and you +can send it up. If it gets the prize--' + +'Oh, it won't get the prize,' Smith put in eagerly. 'Rogers is a cert. +for that.' + +'If it gets the prize,' repeated Reynolds, with asperity, 'you'll have +to tell the Old Man all about it. He'll probably curse a bit, but that +can't be helped. How's this for a beginning? + + "Imposing pile, reared up 'midst pleasant grounds, + The scene of many a battle, lost or won, + At cricket or at football; whose red walls + Full many a sun has kissed 'ere day is done."' + +'Grand. Couldn't you get in something about the M.C.C. match? You could +make cricket rhyme with wicket.' Smith sat entranced with his +ingenuity, but the other treated so material a suggestion with scorn. + +'Well,' said Smith, 'I must be off now. We've got a House-match on. +Thanks awfully about the poem.' + +Left to himself, Reynolds set himself seriously to the composing of an +ode that should do him justice. That is to say, he drew up a chair and +table to the open window, wrote down the lines he had already composed, +and began chewing a pen. After a few minutes he wrote another four +lines, crossed them out, and selected a fresh piece of paper. He then +copied out his first four lines again. After eating his pen to a stump, +he jotted down the two words 'boys' and 'joys' at the end of separate +lines. This led him to select a third piece of paper, on which he +produced a sort of _edition de luxe_ in his best handwriting, with +the title 'Ode to the College' in printed letters at the top. He was +admiring the neat effect of this when the door opened suddenly and +violently, and Mrs Lee, a lady of advanced years and energetic habits, +whose duty it was to minister to the needs of the sick and wounded in +the infirmary, entered with his tea. Mrs Lee's method of entering a +room was in accordance with the advice of the Psalmist, where he says, +'Fling wide the gates'. She flung wide the gate of the sick-room, and +the result was that what is commonly called 'a thorough draught' was +established. The air was thick with flying papers, and when calm at +length succeeded storm, two editions of 'Ode to the College' were lying +on the grass outside. + +Reynolds attacked the tea without attempting to retrieve his vanished +work. Poetry is good, but tea is better. Besides, he argued within +himself, he remembered all he had written, and could easily write it +out again. So, as far as he was concerned, those three sheets of paper +were a closed book. + +Later on in the afternoon, Montgomery of the Sixth happened to be +passing by the infirmary, when Fate, aided by a sudden gust of wind, +blew a piece of paper at him. 'Great Scott,' he observed, as his eye +fell on the words 'Ode to the College'. Montgomery, like Smith, was no +expert in poetry. He had spent a wretched afternoon trying to hammer +out something that would pass muster in the poem competition, but +without the least success. There were four lines on the paper. Two +more, and it would be a poem, and capable of being entered for the +prize as such. The words 'imposing pile', with which the fragment in +his hand began, took his fancy immensely. A poetic afflatus seized him, +and in less than three hours he had added the necessary couplet, + + How truly sweet it is for such as me + To gaze on thee. + +'And dashed neat, too,' he said, with satisfaction, as he threw the +manuscript into his drawer. 'I don't know whether "me" shouldn't be +"I", but they'll have to lump it. It's a poem, anyhow, within the +meaning of the act.' And he strolled off to a neighbour's study to +borrow a book. + +Two nights afterwards, Morrison, also of the Sixth, was enjoying his +usual during prep siesta in his study. A tap at the door roused him. +Hastily seizing a lexicon, he assumed the attitude of the seeker after +knowledge, and said, 'Come in.' It was not the House-master, but Evans, +Morrison's fag, who entered with pride on his face and a piece of paper +in his hand. + +'I say,' he began, 'you remember you told me to hunt up some tags for +the poem. Will this do?' + +Morrison took the paper with a judicial air. On it were the words: + + Imposing pile, reared up 'midst pleasant grounds, + The scene of many a battle, lost or won, + At cricket or at football; whose red walls + Full many a sun has kissed 'ere day is done. + +'That's ripping, as far as it goes,' said Morrison. 'Couldn't be +better. You'll find some apples in that box. Better take a few. But +look here,' with sudden suspicion, 'I don't believe you made all this +up yourself. Did you?' + +Evans finished selecting his apples before venturing on a reply. Then +he blushed, as much as a member of the junior school is capable of +blushing. + +'Well,' he said, 'I didn't exactly. You see, you only told me to get +the tags. You didn't say how.' + +'But how did you get hold of this? Whose is it?' + +'Dunno. I found it in the field between the Pavilion and the +infirmary.' + +'Oh! well, it doesn't matter much. They're just what I wanted, which is +the great thing. Thanks. Shut the door, will you?' Whereupon Evans +retired, the richer by many apples, and Morrison resumed his siesta at +the point where he had left off. + +'Got that poem done yet?' said Smith to Reynolds, pouring out a cup of +tea for the invalid on the following Sunday. + +'Two lumps, please. No, not quite.' + +'Great Caesar, man, when'll it be ready, do you think? It's got to go +in tomorrow.' + +'Well, I'm really frightfully sorry, but I got hold of a grand book. +Ever read--?' + +'Isn't any of it done?' asked Smith. + +'Only the first verse, I'm afraid. But, look here, you aren't keen on +getting the prize. Why not send in only the one verse? It makes a +fairly decent poem.' + +'Hum! Think the Old 'Un'll pass it?' + +'He'll have to. There's nothing in the rules about length. Here it is +if you want it.' + +'Thanks. I suppose it'll be all right? So long! I must be off.' + +The Headmaster, known to the world as the Rev. Arthur James Perceval, +M.A., and to the School as the Old 'Un, was sitting at breakfast, +stirring his coffee, with a look of marked perplexity upon his +dignified face. This was not caused by the coffee, which was excellent, +but by a letter which he held in his left hand. + +'Hum!' he said. Then 'Umph!' in a protesting tone, as if someone had +pinched him. Finally, he gave vent to a long-drawn 'Um-m-m,' in a deep +bass. 'Most extraordinary. Really, most extraordinary. Exceedingly. +Yes. Um. Very.' He took a sip of coffee. + +'My dear,' said he, suddenly. Mrs Perceval started violently. She had +been sketching out in her mind a little dinner, and wondering whether +the cook would be equal to it. + +'Yes,' she said. + +'My dear, this is a very extraordinary communication. Exceedingly so. +Yes, very.' + +'Who is it from?' + +Mr Perceval shuddered. He was a purist in speech. '_From whom_, +you should say. It is from Mr Wells, a great College friend of mine. +I--ah--submitted to him for examination the poems sent in for the Sixth +Form Prize. He writes in a very flippant style. I must say, very +flippant. This is his letter:--"Dear Jimmy (really, really, he should +remember that we are not so young as we were); dear--ahem--Jimmy. The +poems to hand. I have read them, and am writing this from my sick-bed. +The doctor tells me I may pull through even yet. There was only one any +good at all, that was Rogers's, which, though--er--squiffy (tut!) in +parts, was a long way better than any of the others. But the most +taking part of the whole programme was afforded by the three comedians, +whose efforts I enclose. You will notice that each begins with exactly +the same four lines. Of course, I deprecate cribbing, but you really +can't help admiring this sort of thing. There is a reckless daring +about it which is simply fascinating. A horrible thought--have they +been pulling your dignified leg? By the way, do you remember"--the rest +of the letter is--er--on different matters.' + +'James! How extraordinary!' + +'Um, yes. I am reluctant to suspect--er--collusion, but really here +there can be no doubt. No doubt at all. No.' + +'Unless,' began Mrs Perceval, tentatively. 'No doubt at all, my dear,' +snapped Reverend Jimmy. He did not wish to recall the other +possibility, that his dignified leg was being pulled. + +'Now, for what purpose did I summon you three boys?' asked Mr Perceval, +of Smith, Montgomery, and Morrison, in his room after morning school +that day. He generally began a painful interview with this question. +The method had distinct advantages. If the criminal were of a nervous +disposition, he would give himself away upon the instant. In any case, +it was likely to startle him. 'For what purpose?' repeated the +Headmaster, fixing Smith with a glittering eye. + +'I will tell you,' continued Mr Perceval. 'It was because I desired +information, which none but you can supply. How comes it that each of +your compositions for the Poetry Prize commences with the same four +lines?' The three poets looked at one another in speechless +astonishment. + +'Here,' he resumed, 'are the three papers. Compare them. Now,'--after +the inspection was over--' what explanation have you to offer? Smith, +are these your lines?' + +'I--er--ah--_wrote_ them, sir.' + +'Don't prevaricate, Smith. Are you the author of those lines?' + +'No, sir.' + +'Ah! Very good. Are you, Montgomery?' + +'No, sir.' + +'Very good. Then you, Morrison, are exonerated from all blame. You have +been exceedingly badly treated. The first-fruit of your brain has +been--ah--plucked by others, who toiled not neither did they spin. You +can go, Morrison.' + +'But, sir--' + +'Well, Morrison?' + +'I didn't write them, sir.' + +'I--ah--don't quite understand you, Morrison. You say that you are +indebted to another for these lines?' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'To Smith?' + +'No, sir.' + +'To Montgomery?' + +'No, sir.' + +'Then, Morrison, may I ask to whom you are indebted?' + +'I found them in the field on a piece of paper, sir.' He claimed the +discovery himself, because he thought that Evans might possibly prefer +to remain outside this tangle. + +'So did I, sir.' This from Montgomery. Mr Perceval looked bewildered, +as indeed he was. + +'And did you, Smith, also find this poem on a piece of paper in the +field?' There was a metallic ring of sarcasm in his voice. + +'No, sir.' + +'Ah! Then to what circumstance were you indebted for the lines?' + +'I got Reynolds to do them for me, sir.' + +Montgomery spoke. 'It was near the infirmary that I found the paper, +and Reynolds is in there.' + +'So did I, sir,' said Morrison, incoherently. + +'Then am I to understand, Smith, that to gain the prize you resorted to +such underhand means as this?' + +'No, sir, we agreed that there was no danger of my getting the prize. +If I had got it, I should have told you everything. Reynolds will tell +you that, sir.' + +'Then what object had you in pursuing this deception?' + +'Well, sir, the rules say everyone must send in something, and I can't +write poetry at all, and Reynolds likes it, so I asked him to do it.' + +And Smith waited for the storm to burst. But it did not burst. Far down +in Mr Perceval's system lurked a quiet sense of humour. The situation +penetrated to it. Then he remembered the examiner's letter, and it +dawned upon him that there are few crueller things than to make a +prosaic person write poetry. + +'You may go,' he said, and the three went. + +And at the next Board Meeting it was decided, mainly owing to the +influence of an exceedingly eloquent speech from the Headmaster, to +alter the rules for the Sixth Form Poetry Prize, so that from thence +onward no one need compete unless he felt himself filled with the +immortal fire. + + + + +[13] + +WORK + + + With a pleasure that's emphatic + We retire to our attic + With the satisfying feeling that our duty has been done. + + Oh! philosophers may sing + Of the troubles of a king + But of pleasures there are many and of troubles there are none, + And the culminating pleasure + Which we treasure beyond measure + Is the satisfying feeling that our duty has been done. + + _W. S. Gilbert_ + +Work is supposed to be the centre round which school life revolves--the +hub of the school wheel, the lode-star of the schoolboy's existence, +and a great many other things. 'You come to school to work', is the +formula used by masters when sentencing a victim to the wailing and +gnashing of teeth provided by two hours' extra tuition on a hot +afternoon. In this, I think, they err, and my opinion is backed up by +numerous scholars of my acquaintance, who have even gone so far--on +occasions when they themselves have been the victims--as to express +positive disapproval of the existing state of things. In the dear, dead +days (beyond recall), I used often to long to put the case to my +form-master in its only fair aspect, but always refrained from motives +of policy. Masters are so apt to take offence at the well-meant +endeavours of their form to instruct them in the way they should go. + +What I should have liked to have done would have been something after +this fashion. Entering the sanctum of the Headmaster, I should have +motioned him to his seat--if he were seated already, have assured him +that to rise was unnecessary. I should then have taken a seat myself, +taking care to preserve a calm fixity of demeanour, and finally, with a +preliminary cough, I should have embarked upon the following moving +address: 'My dear sir, my dear Reverend Jones or Brown (as the case may +be), believe me when I say that your whole system of work is founded on +a fallacious dream and reeks of rottenness. No, no, I beg that you will +not interrupt me. The real state of the case, if I may say so, is +briefly this: a boy goes to school to enjoy himself, and, on arriving, +finds to his consternation that a great deal more work is expected of +him than he is prepared to do. What course, then, Reverend Jones or +Brown, does he take? He proceeds to do as much work as will steer him +safely between the, ah--I may say, the Scylla of punishment and the +Charybdis of being considered what my, er--fellow-pupils euphoniously +term a swot. That, I think, is all this morning. _Good_ day. Pray +do not trouble to rise. I will find my way out.' I should then have +made for the door, locked it, if possible, on the outside, and, rushing +to the railway station, have taken a through ticket to Spitzbergen or +some other place where Extradition treaties do not hold good. + +But 'twas not mine to play the Tib. Gracchus, to emulate the O. +Cromwell. So far from pouring my opinions like so much boiling oil into +the ear of my task-master, I was content to play the part of audience +while _he_ did the talking, my sole remark being 'Yes'r' at fixed +intervals. + +And yet I knew that I was in the right. My bosom throbbed with the +justice of my cause. For why? The ambition of every human new boy +is surely to become like J. Essop of the First Eleven, who can hit a +ball over two ponds, a wood, and seven villages, rather than to +resemble that pale young student, Mill-Stuart, who, though he can +speak Sanskrit like a native of Sanskritia, couldn't score a single +off a slow long-hop. + +And this ambition is a laudable one. For the athlete is the product of +nature--a step towards the more perfect type of animal, while the +scholar is the outcome of artificiality. What, I ask, does the scholar +gain, either morally or physically, or in any other way, by knowing who +was tribune of the people in 284 BC or what is the precise difference +between the various constructions of _cum_? It is not as if +ignorance of the tribune's identity caused him any mental unrest. In +short, what excuse is there for the student? 'None,' shrieks Echo +enthusiastically. 'None whatever.' + +Our children are being led to ruin by this system. They will become +dons and think in Greek. The victim of the craze stops at nothing. He +puns in Latin. He quips and quirks in Ionic and Doric. In the worst +stages of the disease he will edit Greek plays and say that Merry quite +misses the fun of the passage, or that Jebb is mediocre. Think, I beg +of you, paterfamilias, and you, mater ditto, what your feelings would +be were you to find Henry or Archibald Cuthbert correcting proofs of +_The Agamemnon_, and inventing 'nasty ones' for Mr Sidgwick! Very +well then. Be warned. + +Our bright-eyed lads are taught insane constructions in Greek and Latin +from morning till night, and they come for their holidays, in many +cases, without the merest foundation of a batting style. Ask them what +a Yorker is, and they will say: 'A man from York, though I presume you +mean a Yorkshireman.' They will read Herodotus without a dictionary for +pleasure, but ask them to translate the childishly simple sentence: +'Trott was soon in his timber-yard with a length 'un that whipped +across from the off,' and they'll shrink abashed and swear they have +not skill at that, as Gilbert says. + +The papers sometimes contain humorous forecasts of future education, +when cricket and football shall come to their own. They little know the +excellence of the thing they mock at. When we get schools that teach +nothing but games, then will the sun definitely refuse to set on the +roast beef of old England. May it be soon. Some day, mayhap, I shall +gather my great-great-grandsons round my knee, and tell them--as one +tells tales of Faery--that I can remember the time when Work was +considered the be-all and the end-all of a school career. Perchance, +when my great-great-grandson John (called John after the famous Jones +of that name) has brought home the prize for English Essay on 'Rugby +_v._ Association', I shall pat his head (gently) and the tears +will come to my old eyes as I recall the time when I, too, might have +won a prize--for that obsolete subject, Latin Prose--and was only +prevented by the superior excellence of my thirty-and-one fellow +students, coupled, indeed, with my own inability to conjugate +_sum._ + +Such days, I say, may come. But now are the Dark Ages. The only thing +that can possibly make Work anything but an unmitigated nuisance is the +prospect of a 'Varsity scholarship, and the thought that, in the event +of failure, a 'Varsity career will be out of the question. + +With this thought constantly before him, the student can put a certain +amount of enthusiasm into his work, and even go to the length of rising +at five o'clock o' mornings to drink yet deeper of the cup of +knowledge. I have done it myself. 'Varsity means games and yellow +waistcoats and Proctors, and that sort of thing. It is worth working +for. + +But for the unfortunate individual who is barred by circumstances from +participating in these joys, what inducement is there to work? Is such +a one to leave the school nets in order to stew in a stuffy room over a +Thucydides? I trow not. + +Chapter one of my great forthcoming work, _The Compleat Slacker_, +contains minute instructions on the art of avoiding preparation from +beginning to end of term. Foremost among the words of advice ranks this +maxim: Get an official list of the books you are to do, and examine +them carefully with a view to seeing what it is possible to do unseen. +Thus, if Virgil is among these authors, you can rely on being able to +do him with success. People who ought to know better will tell you that +Virgil is hard. Such a shallow falsehood needs little comment. A +scholar who cannot translate ten lines of _The Aeneid_ between the +time he is put on and the time he begins to speak is unworthy of pity +or consideration, and if I meet him in the street I shall assuredly cut +him. Aeschylus, on the other hand, is a demon, and needs careful +watching, though in an emergency you can always say the reading is +wrong. + +Sometimes the compleat slacker falls into a trap. The saddest case I +can remember is that of poor Charles Vanderpoop. He was a bright young +lad, and showed some promise of rising to heights as a slacker. He fell +in this fashion. One Easter term his form had half-finished a speech of +Demosthenes, and the form-master gave them to understand that they +would absorb the rest during the forthcoming term. Charles, being +naturally anxious to do as little work as possible during the summer +months, spent his Easter holidays carefully preparing this speech, so +as to have it ready in advance. What was his horror, on returning to +School at the appointed date, to find that they were going to throw +Demosthenes over altogether, and patronize Plato. Threats, entreaties, +prayers--all were accounted nothing by the master who had led him into +this morass of troubles. It is believed that the shock destroyed his +reason. At any rate, the fact remains that that term (the summer term, +mark you) he won two prizes. In the following term he won three. To +recapitulate his outrages from that time to the present were a +harrowing and unnecessary task. Suffice it that he is now a Regius +Professor, and I saw in the papers a short time ago that a lecture of +his on 'The Probable Origin of the Greek Negative', created quite a +_furore_. If this is not Tragedy with a big T, I should like to +know what it is. + +As an exciting pastime, unseen translation must rank very high. +Everyone who has ever tried translating unseen must acknowledge that +all other forms of excitement seem but feeble makeshifts after it. I +have, in the course of a career of sustained usefulness to the human +race, had my share of thrills. I have asked a strong and busy porter, +at Paddington, when the Brighton train started. I have gone for the +broad-jump record in trying to avoid a motor-car. I have played +Spillikins and Ping-Pong. But never again have I felt the excitement +that used to wander athwart my moral backbone when I was put on to +translate a passage containing a notorious _crux_ and seventeen +doubtful readings, with only that innate genius, which is the wonder of +the civilized world, to pull me through. And what a glow of pride one +feels when it is all over; when one has made a glorious, golden guess +at the _crux_, and trampled the doubtful readings under foot with +inspired ease. It is like a day at the seaside. + +Work is bad enough, but Examinations are worse, especially the Board +Examinations. By doing from ten to twenty minutes prep every night, the +compleat slacker could get through most of the term with average +success. Then came the Examinations. The dabbler in unseen translations +found himself caught as in a snare. Gone was the peaceful security in +which he had lulled to rest all the well-meant efforts of his guardian +angel to rouse him to a sense of his duties. There, right in front of +him, yawned the abyss of Retribution. + +Alas! poor slacker. I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of +most excellent fancy. Where be his gibes now? How is he to cope with +the fiendish ingenuity of the examiners? How is he to master the +contents of a book of Thucydides in a couple of days? It is a fearsome +problem. Perhaps he will get up in the small hours and work by candle +light from two till eight o'clock. In this case he will start his day a +mental and physical wreck. Perhaps he will try to work and be led away +by the love of light reading. + +In any case he will fail to obtain enough marks to satisfy the +examiners, though whether examiners ever are satisfied, except by Harry +the hero of the school story (Every Lad's Library, uniform edition, 2s +6d), is rather a doubtful question. + +In such straits, matters resolve themselves into a sort of drama with +three characters. We will call our hero Smith. + +_Scene:_ a Study + +_Dramatis Personae:_ + SMITH + CONSCIENCE + MEPHISTOPHELES + +_Enter_ SMITH (_down centre_) + +_He seats himself at table and opens a Thucydides._ + +_Enter_ CONSCIENCE _through ceiling_ (R.), MEPHISTOPHELES +_through floor_ (L.). + +CONSCIENCE (_with a kindly smile_): Precisely what I was about to +remark, my dear lad. A little Thucydides would be a very good thing. +Thucydides, as you doubtless know, was a very famous Athenian +historian. Date? + +SMITH: Er--um--let me see. + +MEPH. (_aside_): Look in the Introduction and pretend you did it +by accident. + +SMITH (_having done so_): 431 B.C. _circ_. + +CONSCIENCE _wipes away a tear_. + +CONSCIENCE: Thucydides made himself a thorough master of the concisest +of styles. + +MEPH.: And in doing so became infernally obscure. Excuse shop. + +SMITH (_gloomily_): Hum! + +MEPH. (_sneeringly_): Ha! + +_Long pause_. + +CONSCIENCE (_gently_): Do you not think, my dear lad, that you had +better begin? Time and tide, as you are aware, wait for no man. And-- + +SMITH: Yes? + +CONSCIENCE: You have not, I fear, a very firm grasp of the subject. +However, if you work hard till eleven-- + +SMITH (_gloomily_): Hum! Three hours! + +MEPH. (_cheerily_): Exactly so. Three hours. A little more if +anything. By the way, excuse me asking, but have you prepared the +subject thoroughly during the term? + +SMITH: My _dear_ sir! Of _course!_ + +CONSCIENCE (_reprovingly_):???!!??! + +SMITH: Well, perhaps, not quite so much as I might have done. Such a +lot of things to do this term. Cricket, for instance. + +MEPH.: Rather. Talking of cricket, you seemed to be shaping rather well +last Saturday. I had just run up on business, and someone told me you +made eighty not out. Get your century all right? + +SMITH (_brightening at the recollection_): Just a bit--117 not +out. I hit--but perhaps you've heard? + +MEPH.: Not at all, not at all. Let's hear all about it. + +_CONSCIENCE seeks to interpose, but is prevented by MEPH., who eggs +SMITH on to talk cricket for over an hour._ + +CONSCIENCE _(at last; in an acid voice)_: That is a history of the +Peloponnesian War by Thucydides on the table in front of you. I thought +I would mention it, in case you had forgotten. + +SMITH: Great Scott, yes! Here, I say, I must start. + +CONSCIENCE: Hear! Hear! + +MEPH. _(insinuatingly)_: One moment. Did you say you _had_ +prepared this book during the term? Afraid I'm a little hard of +hearing. Eh, what? + +SMITH: Well--er--no, I have not. Have you ever played billiards with a +walking-stick and five balls? + +MEPH.: Quite so, quite so. I quite understand. Don't you distress +yourself, old chap. You obviously can't get through a whole book of +Thucydides in under two hours, can you? + +CONSCIENCE _(severely)_: He might, by attentive application to +study, master a considerable portion of the historian's _chef +d'oeuvre_ in that time. + +MEPH.: Yes, and find that not one of the passages he had prepared was +set in the paper. + +CONSCIENCE: At the least, he would, if he were to pursue the course +which I have indicated, greatly benefit his mind. + +MEPH. _gives a short, derisive laugh. Long pause._ + +MEPH. _(looking towards bookshelf)_: Hullo, you've got a decent +lot of books, pommy word you have. _Rodney Stone, Vice Versa, Many +Cargoes._ Ripping. Ever read _Many Cargoes?_ + +CONSCIENCE _(glancing at his watch)_: I am sorry, but I must +really go now. I will see you some other day. + +_Exit sorrowfully._ + +MEPH.: Well, thank goodness _he's_ gone. Never saw such a fearful +old bore in my life. Can't think why you let him hang on to you so. We +may as well make a night of it now, eh? No use your trying to work at +this time of night. + +SMITH: Not a bit. + +MEPH.: Did you say you'd not read _Many Cargoes?_ + +SMITH: Never. Only got it today. Good? + +MEPH.: Simply ripping. All short stories. Make you yell. + +SMITH _(with a last effort)_: But don't you think-- + +MEPH.: Oh no. Besides, you can easily get up early tomorrow for the +Thucydides. + +SMITH: Of course I can. Never thought of that. Heave us _Many +Cargoes._ Thanks. + +_Begins to read. MEPH. grins fiendishly, and vanishes through floor +enveloped in red flame. Sobbing heard from the direction of the +ceiling. + +Scene closes._ + +Next morning, of course, he will oversleep himself, and his Thucydides +paper will be of such a calibre that that eminent historian will writhe +in his grave. + + + + +[14] + +NOTES + + + Of all forms of lettered effusiveness, that which exploits the + original work of others and professes to supply us with right + opinions thereanent is the least wanted. + + _Kenneth Grahame_ + +It has always seemed to me one of the worst flaws in our mistaken +social system, that absolutely no distinction is made between the +master who forces the human boy to take down notes from dictation and +the rest of mankind. I mean that, if in a moment of righteous +indignation you rend such a one limb from limb, you will almost +certainly be subjected to the utmost rigour of the law, and you will be +lucky if you escape a heavy fine of five or ten shillings, exclusive of +the costs of the case. Now, this is not right on the face of it. It is +even wrong. The law should take into account the extreme provocation +which led to the action. Punish if you will the man who travels +second-class with a third-class ticket, or who borrows a pencil and +forgets to return it; but there are occasions when justice should be +tempered with mercy, and this murdering of pedagogues is undoubtedly +such an occasion. + +It should be remembered, however, that there are two varieties of +notes. The printed notes at the end of your Thucydides or Homer are +distinctly useful when they aim at acting up to their true vocation, +namely, the translating of difficult passages or words. Sometimes, +however, the author will insist on airing his scholarship, and instead +of translations he supplies parallel passages, which neither interest, +elevate, nor amuse the reader. This, of course, is mere vanity. The +author, sitting in his comfortable chair with something short within +easy reach, recks nothing of the misery he is inflicting on hundreds of +people who have done him no harm at all. He turns over the pages of his +book of _Familiar Quotations_ with brutal callousness, and for +every tricky passage in the work which he is editing, finds and makes a +note of three or four even trickier ones from other works. Who has not +in his time been brought face to face with a word which defies +translation? There are two courses open to you on such an occasion, to +look the word up in the lexicon, or in the notes. You, of course, turn +up the notes, and find: 'See line 80.' You look up line 80, hoping to +see a translation, and there you are told that a rather similar +construction occurs in Xenophades' _Lyrics from a Padded Cell_. On +this, the craven of spirit will resort to the lexicon, but the man of +mettle will close his book with an emphatic bang, and refuse to have +anything more to do with it. Of a different sort are the notes which +simply translate the difficulty and subside. These are a boon to the +scholar. Without them it would be almost impossible to prepare one's +work during school, and we should be reduced to the prosaic expedient +of working in prep. time. What we want is the commentator who +translates _mensa_ as 'a table' without giving a page and a half +of notes on the uses of the table in ancient Greece, with an excursus +on the habit common in those times of retiring underneath it after +dinner, and a list of the passages in Apollonius Rhodius where the word +'table' is mentioned. + +These voluminous notes are apt to prove a nuisance in more ways than +one. Your average master is generally inordinately fond of them, and +will frequently ask some member of the form to read his note on +so-and-so out to his fellows. This sometimes leads to curious results, +as it is hardly to be expected that the youth called upon will be +attending, even if he is awake, which is unlikely. On one occasion +an acquaintance of mine, 'whose name I am not at liberty to divulge', +was suddenly aware that he was being addressed, and, on giving the +matter his attention, found that it was the form-master asking him to +read out his note on _Balbus murum aedificavit_. My friend is a +kind-hearted youth and of an obliging disposition, and would willingly +have done what was asked of him, but there were obstacles, first and +foremost of which ranked the fact that, taking advantage of his +position on the back desk (whither he thought the basilisk eye of +Authority could not reach), he had substituted _Bab Ballads_ for +the words of Virgil, and was engrossed in the contents of that modern +classic. The subsequent explanations lasted several hours. In fact, it +is probable that the master does not understand the facts of the case +thoroughly even now. It is true that he called him a 'loathsome, slimy, +repulsive toad', but even this seems to fall short of the grandeur of +the situation. + +Those notes, also, which are, alas! only too common nowadays, that deal +with peculiarities of grammar, how supremely repulsive they are! It is +impossible to glean any sense from them, as the Editor mixes up +Nipperwick's view with Sidgeley's reasoning and Spreckendzedeutscheim's +surmise with Donnerundblitzendorf's conjecture in a way that seems to +argue a thorough unsoundness of mind and morals, a cynical insanity +combined with a blatant indecency. He occasionally starts in a +reasonable manner by giving one view as (1) and the next as (2). So far +everyone is happy and satisfied. The trouble commences when he has +occasion to refer back to some former view, when he will say: 'Thus we +see (1) and (14) that,' etc. The unlucky student puts a finger on the +page to keep the place, and hunts up view one. Having found this, and +marked the spot with another finger, he proceeds to look up view +fourteen. He places another finger on this, and reads on, as follows: +'Zmpe, however, maintains that Schrumpff (see 3) is practically insane, +that Spleckzh (see 34) is only a little better, and that Rswkg (see 97 +a (b) C3) is so far from being right that his views may be dismissed as +readily as those of Xkryt (see 5x).' At this point brain-fever sets in, +the victim's last coherent thought being a passionate wish for more +fingers. A friend of mine who was the wonder of all who knew him, in +that he was known to have scored ten per cent in one of these papers on +questions like the above, once divulged to an interviewer the fact that +he owed his success to his methods of learning rather than to his +ability. On the night before an exam, he would retire to some secret, +solitary place, such as the boot-room, and commence learning these +notes by heart. This, though a formidable task, was not so bad as the +other alternative. The result was that, although in the majority of +cases he would put down for one question an answer that would have been +right for another, yet occasionally, luck being with him, he would hit +the mark. Hence his ten per cent. + +Another fruitful source of discomfort is provided by the type of master +who lectures on a subject for half an hour, and then, with a bland +smile, invites, or rather challenges, his form to write a 'good, long +note' on the quintessence of his discourse. For the inexperienced this +is an awful moment. They must write something--but what? For the last +half hour they have been trying to impress the master with the fact +that they belong to the class of people who can always listen best with +their eyes closed. Nor poppy, nor mandragora, nor all the drowsy syrups +of the world can ever medicine them to that sweet sleep that they have +just been enjoying. And now they must write a 'good, long note'. It is +in such extremities that your veteran shows up well. He does not betray +any discomfort. Not he. He rather enjoys the prospect, in fact, of +being permitted to place the master's golden eloquence on paper. So he +takes up his pen with alacrity. No need to think what to write. He +embarks on an essay concerning the master, showing up all his flaws in +a pitiless light, and analysing his thorough worthlessness of +character. On so congenial a subject he can, of course, write reams, +and as the master seldom, if ever, desires to read the 'good, long +note', he acquires a well-earned reputation for attending in school and +being able to express himself readily with his pen. _Vivat +floreatque_. + +But all these forms of notes are as nothing compared with the notes +that youths even in this our boasted land of freedom are forced to take +down from dictation. Of the 'good, long note' your French scholar might +well remark: '_C'est terrible_', but justice would compel him to +add, as he thought of the dictation note: '_mais ce n'est pas le +diable_'. For these notes from dictation are, especially on a warm +day, indubitably _le diable_. + +Such notes are always dictated so rapidly that it is impossible to do +anything towards understanding them as you go. You have to write your +hardest to keep up. The beauty of this, from one point of view, is +that, if you miss a sentence, you have lost the thread of the whole +thing, and it is useless to attempt to take it up again at once. The +only plan is to wait for some perceptible break in the flow of words, +and dash in like lightning. It is much the same sort of thing as +boarding a bus when in motion. And so you can take a long rest, +provided you are in an obscure part of the room. In passing, I might +add that a very pleasing indoor game can be played by asking the +master, 'what came after so-and-so?' mentioning a point of the oration +some half-hour back. This always provides a respite of a few minutes +while he is thinking of some bitter repartee worthy of the occasion, +and if repeated several times during an afternoon may cause much +innocent merriment. + +Of course, the real venom that lurks hid within notes from dictation +does not appear until the time for examination arrives. Then you find +yourself face to face with sixty or seventy closely and badly written +pages of a note-book, all of which must be learnt by heart if you would +aspire to the dizzy heights of half-marks. It is useless to tell your +examiner that you had no chance of getting up the subject. 'Why,' he +will reply, 'I gave you notes on that very thing myself.' 'You did, +sir,' you say, as you advance stealthily upon him, 'but as you dictated +those notes at the rate of two hundred words a minute, and as my brain, +though large, is not capable of absorbing sixty pages of a note-book in +one night, how the suggestively asterisked aposiopesis do you expect me +to know them? Ah-h-h!' The last word is a war-cry, as you fling +yourself bodily on him, and tear him courteously, but firmly, into +minute fragments. Experience, which, as we all know, teaches, will in +time lead you into adopting some method by which you may evade this +taking of notes. A good plan is to occupy yourself with the composition +of a journal, an unofficial magazine not intended for the eyes of the +profane, but confined rigidly to your own circle of acquaintances. The +chief advantage of such a work is that you will continue to write while +the notes are being dictated. To throw your pen down with an air of +finality and begin reading some congenial work of fiction would be a +gallant action, but impolitic. No, writing of some sort is essential, +and as it is out of the question to take down the notes, what better +substitute than an unofficial journal could be found? To one whose +contributions to the School magazine are constantly being cut down to +mere skeletons by the hands of censors, there is a rapture otherwise +unattainable in a page of really scurrilous items about those in +authority. Try it yourselves, my beamish lads. Think of something +really bad about somebody. Write it down and gloat over it. Sometimes, +indeed, it is of the utmost use in determining your future career. You +will probably remember those Titanic articles that appeared at the +beginning of the war in _The Weekly Luggage-Train_, dealing with +all the crimes of the War Office--the generals, the soldiers, the +enemy--of everybody, in fact, except the editor, staff and office-boy +of _The W.L.T._ Well, the writer of those epoch-making articles +confesses that he owes all his skill to his early training, when, a +happy lad at his little desk in school, he used to write trenchantly in +his note-book on the subject of the authorities. There is an example +for you. Of course we can never be like him, but let, oh! let us be as +like him as we're able to be. A final word to those lost ones who +dictate the notes. Why are our ears so constantly assailed with +unnecessary explanations of, and opinions on, English literature? Prey +upon the Classics if you will. It is a revolting habit, but too common +to excite overmuch horror. But surely anybody, presupposing a certain +bias towards sanity, can understand the Classics of our own language, +with the exception, of course, of Browning. Take Tennyson, for example. +How often have we been forced to take down from dictation the miserable +maunderings of some commentator on the subject of _Maud_. A person +reads _Maud_, and either likes it or dislikes it. In any case his +opinion is not likely to be influenced by writing down at express speed +the opinions of somebody else concerning the methods or objectivity and +subjectivity of the author when he produced the work. + +Somebody told me a short time ago that Shelley was an example of +supreme, divine, superhuman genius. It is the sort of thing Mr +Gilbert's 'rapturous maidens' might have said: 'How Botticellian! How +Fra Angelican! How perceptively intense and consummately utter!' There +is really no material difference. + + + + +[15] + +NOW, TALKING ABOUT CRICKET-- + + +In the days of yore, when these white hairs were brown--or was it +black? At any rate, they were not white--and I was at school, it was +always my custom, when Fate obliged me to walk to school with a casual +acquaintance, to whom I could not unburden my soul of those profound +thoughts which even then occupied my mind, to turn the struggling +conversation to the relative merits of cricket and football. + +'Do you like cricket better than footer?' was my formula. Now, though +at the time, in order to save fruitless argument, I always agreed with +my companion, and praised the game he praised, in the innermost depths +of my sub-consciousness, cricket ranked a long way in front of all +other forms of sport. I may be wrong. More than once in my career it +has been represented to me that I couldn't play cricket for nuts. My +captain said as much when I ran him out in _the_ match of the +season after he had made forty-nine and looked like stopping. A bowling +acquaintance heartily endorsed his opinion on the occasion of my +missing three catches off him in one over. This, however, I attribute +to prejudice, for the man I missed ultimately reached his century, +mainly off the deliveries of my bowling acquaintance. I pointed out to +him that, had I accepted any one of the three chances, we should have +missed seeing the prettiest century made on the ground that season; but +he was one of those bowlers who sacrifice all that is beautiful in the +game to mere wickets. A sordid practice. + +Later on, the persistence with which my county ignored my claims to +inclusion in the team, convinced me that I must leave cricket fame to +others. True, I did figure, rather prominently, too, in one county +match. It was at the Oval, Surrey _v_. Middlesex. How well I +remember that occasion! Albert Trott was bowling (Bertie we used to +call him); I forget who was batting. Suddenly the ball came soaring in +my direction. I was not nervous. I put down the sandwich I was eating, +rose from my seat, picked the ball up neatly, and returned it with +unerring aim to a fieldsman who was waiting for it with becoming +deference. Thunders of applause went up from the crowded ring. + +That was the highest point I ever reached in practical cricket. But, as +the historian says of Mr Winkle, a man may be an excellent sportsman in +theory, even if he fail in practice. That's me. Reader (if any), have +you ever played cricket in the passage outside your study with a +walking-stick and a ball of paper? That's the game, my boy, for testing +your skill of wrist and eye. A century _v_. the M.C.C. is well +enough in its way, but give me the man who can watch 'em in a narrow +passage, lit only by a flickering gas-jet--one for every hit, four if +it reaches the end, and six if it goes downstairs full-pitch, any pace +bowling allowed. To make double figures in such a match is to taste +life. Only you had better do your tasting when the House-master is out +for the evening. + +I like to watch the young cricket idea shooting. I refer to the lower +games, where 'next man in' umpires with his pads on, his loins girt, +and a bat in his hand. Many people have wondered why it is that no +budding umpire can officiate unless he holds a bat. For my part, I +think there is little foundation for the theory that it is part of a +semi-religious rite, on the analogy of the Freemasons' special +handshake and the like. Nor do I altogether agree with the authorities +who allege that man, when standing up, needs something as a prop or +support. There is a shadow of reason, I grant, in this supposition, but +after years of keen observation I am inclined to think that the umpire +keeps his bat by him, firstly, in order that no unlicensed hand shall +commandeer it unbeknownst, and secondly, so that he shall be ready to +go in directly his predecessor is out. There is an ill-concealed +restiveness about his movements, as he watches the batsmen getting set, +that betrays an overwrought spirit. Then of a sudden one of them plays +a ball on to his pad. '_'s that_?' asks the bowler, with an +overdone carelessness. 'Clean out. Now _I'm_ in,' and already he +is rushing up the middle of the pitch to take possession. When he gets +to the wicket a short argument ensues. 'Look here, you idiot, I hit it +hard.' 'Rot, man, out of the way.' '!!??!' 'Look here, Smith, +_are_ you going to dispute the umpire's decision?' Chorus of +fieldsmen: 'Get out, Smith, you ass. You've been given out years ago.' +Overwhelmed by popular execration, Smith reluctantly departs, +registering in the black depths of his soul a resolution to take on the +umpireship at once, with a view to gaining an artistic revenge by +giving his enemy run out on the earliest possible occasion. There is a +primeval _insouciance_ about this sort of thing which is as +refreshing to a mind jaded with the stiff formality of professional +umpires as a cold shower-bath. + +I have made a special study of last-wicket men; they are divided into +two classes, the deplorably nervous, or the outrageously confident. The +nervous largely outnumber the confident. The launching of a last-wicket +man, when there are ten to make to win, or five minutes left to make a +draw of a losing game, is fully as impressive a ceremony as the +launching of the latest battleship. An interested crowd harasses the +poor victim as he is putting on his pads. 'Feel in a funk?' asks some +tactless friend. 'N-n-no, norrabit.' 'That's right,' says the captain +encouragingly, 'bowling's as easy as anything.' + +This cheers the wretch up a little, until he remembers suddenly that +the captain himself was distinctly at sea with the despised trundling, +and succumbed to his second ball, about which he obviously had no idea +whatever. At this he breaks down utterly, and, if emotional, will sob +into his batting glove. He is assisted down the Pavilion steps, and +reaches the wickets in a state of collapse. Here, very probably, a +reaction will set in. The sight of the crease often comes as a positive +relief after the vague terrors experienced in the Pavilion. + +The confident last-wicket man, on the other hand, goes forth to battle +with a light quip upon his lips. The lot of a last-wicket batsman, with +a good eye and a sense of humour, is a very enviable one. The +incredulous disgust of the fast bowler, who thinks that at last he may +safely try that slow head-ball of his, and finds it lifted genially +over the leg-boundary, is well worth seeing. I remember in one school +match, the last man, unfortunately on the opposite side, did this three +times in one over, ultimately retiring to a fluky catch in the slips +with forty-one to his name. Nervousness at cricket is a curious thing. +As the author of _Willow the King_, himself a county cricketer, +has said, it is not the fear of getting out that causes funk. It is a +sort of intangible _je ne sais quoi_. I trust I make myself clear. +Some batsmen are nervous all through a long innings. With others the +feeling disappears with the first boundary. + +A young lady--it is, of course, not polite to mention her age to the +minute, but it ranged somewhere between eight and ten--was taken to see +a cricket match once. After watching the game with interest for some +time, she gave out this profound truth: 'They all attend specially to +one man.' It would be difficult to sum up the causes of funk more +lucidly and concisely. To be an object of interest is sometimes +pleasant, but when ten fieldsmen, a bowler, two umpires, and countless +spectators are eagerly watching your every movement, the thing becomes +embarrassing. + +That is why it is, on the whole, preferable to be a cricket spectator +rather than a cricket player. No game affords the spectator such unique +opportunities of exerting his critical talents. You may have noticed +that it is always the reporter who knows most about the game. Everyone, +moreover, is at heart a critic, whether he represent the majesty of the +Press or not. From the lady of Hoxton, who crushes her friend's latest +confection with the words, 'My, wot an 'at!' down to that lowest class +of all, the persons who call your attention (in print) to the sinister +meaning of everything Clytemnestra says in _The Agamemnon_, the +whole world enjoys expressing an opinion of its own about something. + +In football you are vouchsafed fewer chances. Practically all you can +do is to shout 'off-side' whenever an opponent scores, which affords +but meagre employment for a really critical mind. In cricket, however, +nothing can escape you. Everything must be done in full sight of +everybody. There the players stand, without refuge, simply inviting +criticism. + +It is best, however, not to make one's remarks too loud. If you do, you +call down upon yourself the attention of others, and are yourself +criticized. I remember once, when I was of tender years, watching a +school match, and one of the batsmen lifted a ball clean over the +Pavilion. This was too much for my sensitive and critical young mind. +'On the carpet, sir,' I shouted sternly, well up in the treble clef, +'keep 'em on the carpet.' I will draw a veil. Suffice it to say that I +became a sport and derision, and was careful for the future to +criticize in a whisper. But the reverse by no means crushed me. Even +now I take a melancholy pleasure in watching school matches, and saying +So-and-So will make quite a fair _school-boy_ bat in time, but he +must get rid of that stroke of his on the off, and that shocking +leg-hit, and a few of those _awful_ strokes in the slips, but that +on the whole, he is by no means lacking in promise. I find it +refreshing. If, however, you feel compelled not merely to look on, but +to play, as one often does at schools where cricket is compulsory, it +is impossible to exaggerate the importance of white boots. The game you +play before you get white boots is not cricket, but a weak imitation. +The process of initiation is generally this. One plays in shoes for a +few years with the most dire result, running away to square leg from +fast balls, and so on, till despair seizes the soul. Then an angel in +human form, in the very effective disguise of the man at the school +boot-shop, hints that, for an absurdly small sum in cash, you may +become the sole managing director of a pair of _white buckskin_ +boots with real spikes. You try them on. They fit, and the initiation +is complete. You no longer run away from fast balls. You turn them +neatly off to the boundary. In a word, you begin for the first time to +play the game, the whole game, and nothing but the game. + +There are misguided people who complain that cricket is becoming a +business more than a game, as if that were not the most fortunate thing +that could happen. When it ceases to be a mere business and becomes a +religious ceremony, it will be a sign that the millennium is at hand. +The person who regards cricket as anything less than a business is no +fit companion, gentle reader, for the likes of you and me. As long as +the game goes in his favour the cloven hoof may not show itself. But +give him a good steady spell of leather-hunting, and you will know him +for what he is, a mere _dilettante_, a dabbler, in a word, a worm, +who ought never to be allowed to play at all. The worst of this species +will sometimes take advantage of the fact that the game in which they +happen to be playing is only a scratch game, upon the result of which +no very great issues hang, to pollute the air they breathe with verbal, +and the ground they stand on with physical, buffooneries. Many a time +have I, and many a time have you, if you are what I take you for, shed +tears of blood, at the sight of such. Careless returns, overthrows--but +enough of a painful subject. Let us pass on. + +I have always thought it a better fate for a man to be born a bowler +than a bat. A batsman certainly gets a considerable amount of innocent +fun by snicking good fast balls just off his wicket to the ropes, and +standing stolidly in front against slow leg-breaks. These things are +good, and help one to sleep peacefully o' nights, and enjoy one's +meals. But no batsman can experience that supreme emotion of 'something +attempted, something done', which comes to a bowler when a ball pitches +in a hole near point's feet, and whips into the leg stump. It is one +crowded second of glorious life. Again, the words 'retired hurt' on the +score-sheet are far more pleasant to the bowler than the batsman. The +groan of a batsman when a loose ball hits him full pitch in the ribs is +genuine. But the 'Awfully-sorry-old-chap-it-slipped' of the bowler is +not. Half a loaf is better than no bread, as Mr Chamberlain might say, +and if he cannot hit the wicket, he is perfectly contented with hitting +the man. In my opinion, therefore, the bowler's lot, in spite of +billiard table wickets, red marl, and such like inventions of a +degenerate age, is the happier one. + +And here, glowing with pride of originality at the thought that I have +written of cricket without mentioning Alfred Mynn or Fuller Pilch, I +heave a reminiscent sigh, blot my MS., and thrust my pen back into its +sheath. + + + + +[16] + +THE TOM BROWN QUESTION + + +The man in the corner had been trying to worry me into a conversation +for some time. He had asked me if I objected to having the window open. +He had said something rather bitter about the War Office, and had hoped +I did not object to smoking. Then, finding that I stuck to my book +through everything, he made a fresh attack. + +'I see you are reading _Tom Brown's Schooldays_,' he said. + +This was a plain and uninteresting statement of fact, and appeared to +me to require no answer. I read on. + +'Fine book, sir.' + +'Very.' + +'I suppose you have heard of the Tom Brown Question?' + +I shut my book wearily, and said I had not. + +'It is similar to the Homeric Question. You have heard of that, I +suppose?' + +I knew that there was a discussion about the identity of the author of +the Iliad. When at school I had been made to take down notes on the +subject until I had grown to loathe the very name of Homer. + +'You see,' went on my companion, 'the difficulty about _Tom Brown's +Schooldays_ is this. It is obvious that part one and part two were +written by different people. You admit that, I suppose?' + +'I always thought Mr Hughes wrote the whole book.' + +'Dear me, not really? Why, I thought everyone knew that he only wrote +the first half. The question is, who wrote the second. I know, but I +don't suppose ten other people do. No, sir.' + +'What makes you think he didn't write the second part?' + +'My dear sir, just read it. Read part one carefully, and then read part +two. Why, you can see in a minute.' + +I said I had read the book three times, but had never noticed anything +peculiar about it, except that the second half was not nearly so +interesting as the first. + +'Well, just tell me this. Do you think the same man created East and +Arthur? Now then.' + +I admitted that it was difficult to understand such a thing. + +'There was a time, of course,' continued my friend, 'when everybody +thought as you do. The book was published under Hughes's name, and it +was not until Professor Burkett-Smith wrote his celebrated monograph on +the subject that anybody suspected a dual, or rather a composite, +authorship. Burkett-Smith, if you remember, based his arguments on two +very significant points. The first of these was a comparison between +the football match in the first part and the cricket match in the +second. After commenting upon the truth of the former description, he +went on to criticize the latter. Do you remember that match? You do? +Very well. You recall how Tom wins the toss on a plumb wicket?' + +'Yes.' + +'Then with the usual liberality of young hands (I quote from the book) +he put the M.C.C. in first. Now, my dear sir, I ask you, would a school +captain do that? I am young, says one of Gilbert's characters, the +Grand Duke, I think, but, he adds, I am not so young as that. Tom may +have been young, but would he, _could_ he have been young enough +to put his opponents in on a true wicket, when he had won the toss? +Would the Tom Brown of part one have done such a thing?' + +'Never,' I shouted, with enthusiasm. + +'But that's nothing to what he does afterwards. He permits, he actually +sits there and permits, comic songs and speeches to be made during the +luncheon interval. Comic Songs! Do you hear me, sir? COMIC SONGS!! And +this when he wanted every minute of time he could get to save the +match. Would the Tom Brown of part one have done such a thing?' + +'Never, never.' I positively shrieked the words this time. + +'Burkett-Smith put that point very well. His second argument is founded +on a single remark of Tom's, or rather--' + +'Or rather,' I interrupted, fiercely,' or rather of the wretched +miserable--' + +'Contemptible,' said my friend. + +'Despicable, scoundrelly, impostor who masquerades as Tom in the second +half of the book.' + +'Exactly,' said he. 'Thank you very much. I have often thought the same +myself. The remark to which I refer is that which he makes to the +master while he is looking on at the M.C.C. match. In passing, sir, +might I ask you whether the Tom Brown of part one would have been on +speaking terms with such a master?' + +I shook my head violently. I was too exhausted to speak. + +'You remember the remark? The master commented on the fact that Arthur +is a member of the first eleven. I forget Tom's exact words, but the +substance of them is this, that, though on his merits Arthur was not +worth his place, he thought it would do him such a lot of good being in +the team. Do I make myself plain, sir? He--thought--it--would--do-- +him--such--a--lot--of--good--being--in--the--team!!!' + +There was a pause. We sat looking at one another, forming silently with +our lips the words that still echoed through the carriage. + +'Burkett-Smith,' continued my companion, 'makes a great deal of that +remark. His peroration is a very fine piece of composition. "Whether +(concludes he) the captain of a school cricket team who could own +spontaneously to having been guilty of so horrible, so terrible an act +of favouritismical jobbery, who could sit unmoved and see his team +being beaten in the most important match of the season (and, indeed, +for all that the author tells us it may have been the only match of the +season), for no other reason than that he thought a first eleven cap +would prove a valuable tonic to an unspeakable personal friend of his, +whether, I say, the Tom Brown who acted thus could have been the Tom +Brown who headed the revolt of the fags in part one, is a question +which, to the present writer, offers no difficulties. I await with +confidence the verdict of a free, enlightened, and conscientious public +of my fellow-countrymen." Fine piece of writing, that, sir?' + +'Very,' I said. + +'That pamphlet, of course, caused a considerable stir. Opposing parties +began to be formed, some maintaining that Burkett-Smith was entirely +right, others that he was entirely wrong, while the rest said he might +have been more wrong if he had not been so right, but that if he had +not been so mistaken he would probably have been a great deal more +correct. The great argument put forward by the supporters of what I may +call the "One Author" view, was, that the fight in part two could not +have been written by anyone except the author of the fight with +Flashman in the school-house hall. And this is the point which has led +to all the discussion. Eliminate the Slogger Williams episode, and the +whole of the second part stands out clearly as the work of another +hand. But there is one thing that seems to have escaped the notice of +everybody.' + +'Yes?' I said. + +He leant forward impressively, and whispered. 'Only the actual fight is +the work of the genuine author. The interference of Arthur has been +interpolated!' + +'By Jove!' I said. 'Not really?' + +'Yes. Fact, I assure you. Why, think for a minute. Could a man capable +of describing a fight as that fight is described, also be capable of +stopping it just as the man the reader has backed all through is +winning? It would be brutal. Positively brutal, sir!' + +'Then, how do you explain it?' + +'A year ago I could not have told you. Now I can. For five years I have +been unravelling the mystery by the aid of that one clue. Listen. When +Mr Hughes had finished part one, he threw down his pen and started to +Wales for a holiday. He had been there a week or more, when one day, as +he was reclining on the peak of a mountain looking down a deep +precipice, he was aware of a body of men approaching him. They were +dressed soberly in garments of an inky black. Each had side whiskers, +and each wore spectacles. "Mr Hughes, I believe?" said the leader, as +they came up to him. + +'"Your servant, sir," said he. + +'"We have come to speak to you on an important matter, Mr Hughes. We +are the committee of the Secret Society For Putting Wholesome +Literature Within The Reach Of Every Boy, And Seeing That He Gets It. +I, sir, am the president of the S.S.F.P.W.L.W.T.R.O.E.B.A.S.T.H.G.I." +He bowed. + +'"Really, sir, I--er--don't think I have the pleasure," began Mr +Hughes. + +'"You shall have the pleasure, sir. We have come to speak to you about +your book. Our representative has read Part I, and reports unfavourably +upon it. It contains no moral. There are scenes of violence, and your +hero is far from perfect." + +'"I think you mistake my object," said Mr Hughes; "Tom is a boy, not a +patent medicine. In other words, he is not supposed to be perfect." + +'"Well, I am not here to bandy words. The second part of your book +must be written to suit the rules of our Society. Do you agree, or +shall we throw you over that precipice?" + +'"Never. I mean, I don't agree." + +'"Then we must write it for you. Remember, sir, that you will be +constantly watched, and if you attempt to write that second part +yourself--"' (he paused dramatically). 'So the second part was written +by the committee of the Society. So now you know.' + +'But,' said I, 'how do you account for the fight with Slogger +Williams?' + +'The president relented slightly towards the end, and consented to Mr +Hughes inserting a chapter of his own, on condition that the Society +should finish it. And the Society did. See?' + +'But--' + +'Ticket.' + +'Eh?' + +'Ticket, please, sir.' + +I looked up. The guard was standing at the open door. My companion had +vanished. + +'Guard,' said I, as I handed him my ticket, 'where's the gentleman who +travelled up with me?' + +'Gentleman, sir? I haven't seen nobody.' + +'Not a man in tweeds with red hair? I mean, in tweeds and owning red +hair.' + +'No, sir. You've been alone in the carriage all the way up. Must have +dreamed it, sir.' + +Possibly I did. + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of St. Austin's, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF ST. AUSTIN'S *** + +***** This file should be named 6980.txt or 6980.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/9/8/6980/ + +Produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Tales of St. Austin's + +Author: P. G. Wodehouse + +Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6980] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 19, 2003] +[Date last updated: January 22, 2005] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF ST. AUSTIN'S *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +TALES OF ST AUSTIN'S + + + + +by P. G. Wodehouse + +1903 + + + + + +PREFACE + + +Most of these stories originally appeared in _The Captain_. I am +indebted to the Editor of that magazine for allowing me to republish. +The rest are from the _Public School Magazine_. The story entitled +'A Shocking Affair' appears in print for the first time. 'This was one +of our failures.' + +_P. G. Wodehouse_ + + + + +[Dedication] +AD MATREM + + + + +CONTENTS + + +1 How Pillingshot Scored + +2 The Odd Trick + +3 L'Affaire Uncle John (A Story in Letters) + +4 Harrison's Slight Error + +5 Bradshaw's Little Story + +6 A Shocking Affair + +7 The Babe and the Dragon + +8 The Manoeuvres of Charteris + +9 How Payne Bucked Up + +10 Author! + +11 'The Tabby Terror' + +12 The Prize Poem + +13 Work + +14 Notes + +15 Now, Talking About Cricket-- + +16 The Tom Brown Question + + + + +[1] + +HOW PILLINGSHOT SCORED + + +Pillingshot was annoyed. He was disgusted, mortified; no other word for +it. He had no objection, of course, to Mr Mellish saying that his work +during the term, and especially his Livy, had been disgraceful. A +master has the right to say that sort of thing if he likes. It is one +of the perquisites of the position. But when he went on to observe, +without a touch of shame, that there would be an examination in the +Livy as far as they had gone in it on the following Saturday, +Pillingshot felt that he exceeded. It was not playing the game. There +were the examinations at the end of term. Those were fair enough. You +knew exactly when they were coming, and could make your arrangements +accordingly. But to spring an examination on you in the middle of the +term out of a blue sky, as it were, was underhand and unsportsmanlike, +and would not do at all. Pillingshot wished that he could put his foot +down. He would have liked to have stalked up to Mr Mellish's desk, +fixed him with a blazing eye, and remarked, 'Sir, withdraw that remark. +Cancel that statement instantly, or--!' or words to that effect. + +What he did say was: 'Oo, si-i-r!!' + +'Yes,' said Mr Mellish, not troubling to conceal his triumph +at Pillingshot's reception of the news, 'there will be a Livy +examination next Saturday. And--' (he almost intoned this last +observation)--'anybody who does not get fifty per cent, Pillingshot, +fifty per cent, will be severely punished. Very severely punished, +Pillingshot.' + +After which the lesson had proceeded on its course. + +'Yes, it is rather low, isn't it?' said Pillingshot's friend, Parker, +as Pillingshot came to the end of a stirring excursus on the rights of +the citizen, with special reference to mid-term Livy examinations. +'That's the worst of Mellish. He always has you somehow.' + +'But what am I to _do_?' raved Pillingshot. + +'I should advise you to swot it up before Saturday,' said Parker. + +'Oh, don't be an ass,' said Pillingshot, irritably. + +What was the good of friends if they could only make idiotic +suggestions like that? + +He retired, brooding, to his house. + +The day was Wednesday. There were only two more days, therefore, in +which to prepare a quarter of a book of Livy. It couldn't be done. The +thing was not possible. + +In the house he met Smythe. + +'What are you going to do about it?' he inquired. Smythe was top of the +form, and if he didn't know how to grapple with a crisis of this sort, +who _could_ know? + +'If you'll kindly explain,' said Smythe, 'what the dickens you are +talking about, I might be able to tell you.' + +Pillingshot explained, with unwonted politeness, that 'it' meant the +Livy examination. + +'Oh,' said Smythe, airily, 'that! I'm just going to skim through it in +case I've forgotten any of it. Then I shall read up the notes +carefully. And then, if I have time, I shall have a look at the history +of the period. I should advise you to do that, too.' + +'Oh, don't be a goat,' said Pillingshot. + +And he retired, brooding, as before. + +That afternoon he spent industriously, copying out the fourth book of +_The Aeneid_. At the beginning of the week he had had a slight +disagreement with M. Gerard, the French master. + +Pillingshot's views on behaviour and deportment during French lessons +did not coincide with those of M. Gerard. Pillingshot's idea of a +French lesson was something between a pantomime rally and a scrum at +football. To him there was something wonderfully entertaining in the +process of 'barging' the end man off the edge of the form into space, +and upsetting his books over him. M. Gerard, however, had a very +undeveloped sense of humour. He warned the humorist twice, and on the +thing happening a third time, suggested that he should go into extra +lesson on the ensuing Wednesday. + +So Pillingshot went, and copied out Virgil. + +He emerged from the room of detention at a quarter past four. As he +came out into the grounds he espied in the middle distance somebody +being carried on a stretcher in the direction of the School House. At +the same moment Parker loomed in sight, walking swiftly towards the +School shop, his mobile features shining with the rapt expression of +one who sees much ginger-beer in the near future. + +'Hullo, Parker,' said Pillingshot, 'who's the corpse?' + +'What, haven't you heard?' said Parker. 'Oh, no, of course, you were in +extra. It's young Brown. He's stunned or something.' + +'How did it happen?' + +'That rotter, Babington, in Dacre's. Simply slamming about, you know, +getting his eye in before going in, and Brown walked slap into one of +his drives. Got him on the side of the head.' + +'Much hurt?' + +'Oh, no, I don't think so. Keep him out of school for about a week.' + +'Lucky beast. Wish somebody would come and hit me on the head. Come +and hit me on the head, Parker.' + +'Come and have an ice,' said Parker. + +'Right-ho,' said Pillingshot. It was one of his peculiarities, that +whatever the hour or the state of the weather, he was always equal to +consuming an ice. This was probably due to genius. He had an infinite +capacity for taking pains. Scarcely was he outside the promised ice +when another misfortune came upon him. Scott, of the First Eleven, +entered the shop. Pillingshot liked Scott, but he was not blind to +certain flaws in the latter's character. For one thing, he was too +energetic. For another, he could not keep his energy to himself. He was +always making Pillingshot do things. And Pillingshot's notion of the +ideal life was complete _dolce far niente_. + +'Ginger-beer, please,' said Scott, with parched lips. He had been +bowling at the nets, and the day was hot. 'Hullo! Pillingshot, you +young slacker, why aren't you changed? Been bunking half-holiday games? +You'd better reform, young man.' + +'I've been in extra,' said Pillingshot, with dignity. + +'How many times does that make this term? You're going for the record, +aren't you? Jolly sporting of you. Bit slow in there, wasn't it? +'Nother ginger-beer, please.' + +'Just a bit,' said Pillingshot. + +'I thought so. And now you're dying for some excitement. Of course you +are. Well, cut over to the House and change, and then come back and +field at the nets. The man Yorke is going to bowl me some of his +celebrated slow tosh, and I'm going to show him exactly how Jessop does +it when he's in form.' + +Scott was the biggest hitter in the School. Mr Yorke was one of the +masters. He bowled slow leg-breaks, mostly half-volleys and long hops. +Pillingshot had a sort of instinctive idea that fielding out in the +deep with Mr Yorke bowling and Scott batting would not contribute +largely to the gaiety of his afternoon. Fielding deep at the nets meant +that you stood in the middle of the football field, where there was no +telling what a ball would do if it came at you along the ground. If you +were lucky you escaped without injury. Generally, however, the ball +bumped and deprived you of wind or teeth, according to the height to +which it rose. He began politely, but firmly, to excuse himself. + +'Don't talk rot,' said Scott, complainingly, 'you must have some +exercise or you'll go getting fat. Think what a blow it would be to +your family, Pillingshot, if you lost your figure. Buck up. If you're +back here in a quarter of an hour you shall have another ice. A large +ice, Pillingshot, price sixpence. Think of it.' + +The word ice, as has been remarked before, touched chords in +Pillingshot's nature to which he never turned a deaf ear. Within the +prescribed quarter of an hour he was back again, changed. + +'Here's the ice,' said Scott, 'I've been keeping it warm for you. +Shovel it down. I want to be starting for the nets. Quicker, man, +quicker! Don't roll it round your tongue as if it was port. Go for it. +Finished? That's right. Come on.' + +Pillingshot had not finished, but Scott so evidently believed that he +had, that it would have been unkind to have mentioned the fact. He +followed the smiter to the nets. + +If Pillingshot had passed the earlier part of the afternoon in a +sedentary fashion, he made up for it now. Scott was in rare form, and +Pillingshot noticed with no small interest that, while he invariably +hit Mr Yorke's deliveries a quarter of a mile or so, he never hit two +balls in succession in the same direction. As soon as the panting +fieldsman had sprinted to one side of the football ground and returned +the ball, there was a beautiful, musical _plonk_, and the ball +soared to the very opposite quarter of the field. It was a fine +exhibition of hitting, but Pillingshot felt that he would have enjoyed +it more if he could have watched it from a deck-chair. + +'You're coming on as a deep field, young Pillingshot,' said Scott, as +he took off his pads. 'You've got a knack of stopping them with your +stomach, which the best first-class fields never have. You ought to +give lessons at it. Now we'll go and have some tea.' + +If Pillingshot had had a more intimate acquaintance with the classics, +he would have observed at this point, '_Timeo Danaos_', and made a +last dash for liberty in the direction of the shop. But he was deceived +by the specious nature of Scott's remark. Visions rose before his eyes +of sitting back in one of Scott's armchairs, watching a fag toasting +muffins, which he would eventually dispatch with languid enjoyment. So +he followed Scott to his study. The classical parallel to his situation +is the well-known case of the oysters. They, too, were eager for the +treat. + +They had reached the study, and Pillingshot was about to fling himself, +with a sigh of relief, into the most comfortable chair, when Scott +unmasked his batteries. + +'Oh, by the way,' he said, with a coolness which to Pillingshot +appeared simply brazen, 'I'm afraid my fag won't be here today. The +young crock's gone and got mumps, or the plague, or something. So would +you mind just lighting that stove? It'll be rather warm, but that won't +matter. There are some muffins in the cupboard. You might weigh in with +them. You'll find the toasting-fork on the wall somewhere. It's hanging +up. Got it? Good man. Fire away.' + +And Scott collected five cushions, two chairs, and a tin of mixed +biscuits, and made himself comfortable. Pillingshot, with feelings too +deep for words (in the then limited state of his vocabulary), did as he +was requested. There was something remarkable about the way Scott could +always get people to do things for him. He seemed to take everything +for granted. If he had had occasion to hire an assassin to make away +with the German Emperor, he would have said, 'Oh, I say, you might run +over to Germany and kill the Kaiser, will you, there's a good chap? +Don't be long.' And he would have taken a seat and waited, without the +least doubt in his mind that the thing would be carried through as +desired. + +Pillingshot had just finished toasting the muffins, when the door +opened, and Venables, of Merevale's, came in. + +'I thought I heard you say something about tea this afternoon, Scott,' +said Venables. 'I just looked in on the chance. Good Heavens, man! +Fancy muffins at this time of year! Do you happen to know what the +thermometer is in the shade?' + +'Take a seat,' said Scott. 'I attribute my entire success in life +to the fact that I never find it too hot to eat muffins. Do you +know Pillingshot? One of the hottest fieldsmen in the School. +At least, he was just now. He's probably cooled off since then. +Venables--Pillingshot, and _vice versa_. Buck up with the tea, +Pillingshot. What, ready? Good man. Now we might almost begin.' + +'Beastly thing that accident of young Brown's, wasn't it?' said Scott. +'Chaps oughtn't to go slamming about like that with the field full of +fellows. I suppose he won't be right by next Saturday?' + +'Not a chance. Why? Oh, yes, I forgot. He was to have scored for the +team at Windybury, wasn't he?' + +'Who are you going to get now?' + +Venables was captain of the St Austin's team. The match next Saturday +was at Windybury, on the latter's ground. + +'I haven't settled,' said Venables. 'But it's easy to get somebody. +Scoring isn't one of those things which only one chap in a hundred +understands.' + +Then Pillingshot had an idea--a great, luminous idea. + +'May I score?' he asked, and waited trembling with apprehension lest +the request be refused. + +'All right,' said Venables, 'I don't see any reason why you shouldn't. +We have to catch the 8.14 at the station. Don't you go missing it or +anything.' + +'Rather _not_,' said Pillingshot. 'Not much.' + + * * * * * + +On Saturday morning, at exactly 9.15, Mr Mellish distributed the Livy +papers. When he arrived at Pillingshot's seat and found it empty, an +expression passed over his face like unto that of the baffled villain +in transpontine melodrama. + +'Where is Pillingshot?' he demanded tragically. 'Where is he?' + +'He's gone with the team to Windybury, sir,' said Parker, struggling to +conceal a large size in grins. 'He's going to score.' + +'No,' said Mr Mellish sadly to himself, 'he _has_ scored.' + + + + +[2] + +THE ODD TRICK + + +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 +that Graham's post was no sinecure. It was Harrison's custom to throw +off his mask at night with his other garments, and appear in his true +character of an abandoned villain, willing to stick at nothing as long +as he could do it strictly incog. In this capacity he had come into +constant contact with Graham. Even in the dark it is occasionally +possible for a prefect to tell where a noise comes from. And if the +said prefect has been harassed six days in the week by a noise, and +locates it suddenly on the seventh, it is wont to be bad for the +producer and patentee of same. + +And so it came about that Harrison, enjoying himself one night, after +the manner of his kind, was suddenly dropped upon with violence. He had +constructed an ingenious machine, consisting of a biscuit tin, some +pebbles, and some string. He put the pebbles in the tin, tied the +string to it, and placed it under a chest of drawers. Then he took the +other end of the string to bed with him, and settled down to make a +night of it. At first all went well. Repeated inquiries from Tony +failed to produce the author of the disturbance, and when finally the +questions ceased, and the prefect appeared to have given the matter up +as a bad job, P. St H. Harrison began to feel that under certain +circumstances life was worth living. It was while he was in this happy +frame of mind that the string, with which he had just produced a +triumphant rattle from beneath the chest of drawers, was seized, and +the next instant its owner was enjoying the warmest minute of a +chequered career. Tony, like Brer Rabbit, had laid low until he was +certain of the direction from which the sound proceeded. He had then +slipped out of bed, crawled across the floor in a snake-like manner +which would have done credit to a Red Indian, found the tin, and traced +the string to its owner. Harrison emerged from the encounter feeling +sore and unfit for any further recreation. This deed of the night left +its impression on Harrison. The account had to be squared somehow, and +in a few days his chance came. Merevale's were playing a 'friendly' +with the School House, and in default of anybody better, Harrison had +been pressed into service as umpire. This in itself had annoyed him. +Cricket was not in his line--he was not one of your flannelled +fools--and of all things in connection with the game he loathed +umpiring most. + +When, however, Tony came on to bowl at his end, _vice_ Charteris, +who had been hit for three fours in an over by Scott, the School +slogger, he recognized that even umpiring had its advantages, and +resolved to make the most of the situation. + +Scott had the bowling, and he lashed out at Tony's first ball in his +usual reckless style. There was an audible click, and what the sporting +papers call confident appeals came simultaneously from Welch, +Merevale's captain, who was keeping wicket, and Tony himself. Even +Scott seemed to know that his time had come. He moved a step or two +away from the wicket, but stopped before going farther to look at the +umpire, on the off-chance of a miracle happening to turn his decision +in the batsman's favour. + +The miracle happened. + +'Not out,' said Harrison. + +'Awfully curious,' he added genially to Tony, 'how like a bat those +bits of grass sound! You have to be jolly smart to know where a noise +comes from, don't you!' + +Tony grunted disgustedly, and walked back again to the beginning of his +run. + +If ever, in the whole history of cricket, a man was out +leg-before-wicket, Scott was so out to Tony's second ball. It was +hardly worth appealing for such a certainty. Still, the formality had +to be gone through. + +'How was _that_?' inquired Tony. + +'Not out. It's an awful pity, don't you think, that they don't bring in +that new leg-before rule?' + +'Seems to me,' said Tony bitterly, 'the old rule holds pretty good when +a man's leg's bang in front.' + +'Rather. But you see the ball didn't pitch straight, and the rule +says--' + +'Oh, all right,' said Tony. + +The next ball Scott hit for four, and the next after that for a couple. +The fifth was a yorker, and just grazed the leg stump. The sixth was a +beauty. You could see it was going to beat the batsman from the moment +it left Tony's hand. Harrison saw it perfectly. + +'No ball,' he shouted. And just as he spoke Scott's off-stump +ricocheted towards the wicket-keeper. + +'Heavens, man,' said Tony, fairly roused out of his cricket manners, a +very unusual thing for him. 'I'll swear my foot never went over the +crease. Look, there's the mark.' + +'Rather not. Only, you see, it seemed to me you chucked that time. Of +course, I know you didn't mean to, and all that sort of thing, but +still, the rules--' + +Tony would probably have liked to have said something very forcible +about the rules at this point, but it occurred to him that after all +Harrison was only within his rights, and that it was bad form to +dispute the umpire's decision. Harrison walked off towards square-leg +with a holy joy. + +But he was too much of an artist to overdo the thing. Tony's next over +passed off without interference. Possibly, however, this was because it +was a very bad one. After the third over he asked Welch if he could get +somebody else to umpire, as he had work to do. Welch heaved a sigh of +relief, and agreed readily. + +'Conscientious sort of chap that umpire of yours,' said Scott to Tony, +after the match. Scott had made a hundred and four, and was feeling +pleased. 'Considering he's in your House, he's awfully fair.' + +'You mean that we generally swindle, I suppose?' + +'Of course not, you rotter. You know what I mean. But, I say, that +catch Welch and you appealed for must have been a near thing. I could +have sworn I hit it.' + +'Of course you did. It was clean out. So was the lbw. I say, did you +think that ball that bowled you was a chuck? That one in my first over, +you know.' + +'Chuck! My dear Tony, you don't mean to say that man pulled you up for +chucking? I thought your foot must have gone over the crease.' + +'I believe the chap's mad,' said Tony. + +'Perhaps he's taking it out of you this way for treading on his corns +somehow. Have you been milling with this gentle youth lately?' + +'By Jove,' said Tony, 'you're right. I gave him beans only the other +night for ragging in the dormitory.' + +Scott laughed. + +'Well, he seems to have been getting a bit of his own back today. Lucky +the game was only a friendly. Why will you let your angry passions +rise, Tony? You've wrecked your analysis by it, though it's improved my +average considerably. I don't know if that's any solid satisfaction to +you.' + +'It isn't.' + +'You don't say so! Well, so long. If I were you, I should keep an eye +on that conscientious umpire.' + +'I will,' said Tony. 'Good-night.' + +The process of keeping an eye on Harrison brought no results. When he +wished to behave himself well, he could. On such occasions Sandford and +Merton were literally not in it with him, and the hero of a +Sunday-school story would simply have refused to compete. But Nemesis, +as the poets tell us, though no sprinter, manages, like the celebrated +Maisie, to get right there in time. Give her time, and she will arrive. +She arrived in the case of Harrison. One morning, about a fortnight +after the House-match incident, Harrison awoke with a new sensation. At +first he could not tell what exactly this sensation was, and being too +sleepy to discuss nice points of internal emotion with himself, was +just turning over with the intention of going to sleep again, when the +truth flashed upon him. The sensation he felt was loneliness, and the +reason he felt lonely was because he was the only occupant of the +dormitory. To right and left and all around were empty beds. + +As he mused drowsily on these portents, the distant sound of a bell +came to his ears and completed the cure. It was the bell for chapel. He +dragged his watch from under his pillow, and looked at it with +consternation. Four minutes to seven. And chapel was at seven. Now +Harrison had been late for chapel before. It was not the thought of +missing the service that worried him. What really was serious was that +he had been late so many times before that Merevale had hinted at +serious steps to be taken if he were late again, or, at any rate, until +a considerable interval of punctuality had elapsed. + +That threat had been uttered only yesterday, and here he was in all +probability late once more. + +There was no time to dress. He sprang out of bed, passed a sponge over +his face as a concession to the decencies, and looked round for +something to cover his night-shirt, which, however suitable for +dormitory use, was, he felt instinctively, scarcely the garment to wear +in public. + +Fate seemed to fight for him. On one of the pegs in the wall hung a +mackintosh, a large, blessed mackintosh. He was inside it in a moment. + +Four minutes later he rushed into his place in chapel. + +The short service gave him some time for recovering himself. He left +the building feeling a new man. His costume, though quaint, would not +call for comment. Chapel at St Austin's was never a full-dress +ceremony. Mackintoshes covering night-shirts were the rule rather than +the exception. + +But between his costume and that of the rest there was this subtle +distinction. They wore their own mackintoshes. He wore somebody else's. + +The bulk of the School had split up into sections, each section making +for its own House, and Merevale's was already in sight, when Harrison +felt himself grasped from behind. He turned, to see Graham. + +'Might I ask,' enquired Tony with great politeness, 'who said you might +wear my mackintosh?' + +Harrison gasped. + +'I suppose you didn't know it was mine?' + +'No, no, rather not. I didn't know.' + +'And if you had known it was mine, you wouldn't have taken it, I +suppose?' + +'Oh no, of course not,' said Harrison. Graham seemed to be taking an +unexpectedly sensible view of the situation. + +'Well,' said Tony, 'now that you know that it is mine, suppose you give +it up.' + +'Give it up!' + +'Yes; buck up. It looks like rain, and I mustn't catch cold.' + +'But, Graham, I've only got on--' + +'Spare us these delicate details. Mack up, please, I want it.' + +Finally, Harrison appearing to be difficult in the matter, Tony took +the garment off for him, and went on his way. + +Harrison watched him go with mixed feelings. Righteous indignation +struggled with the gravest apprehension regarding his own future. If +Merevale should see him! Horrible thought. He ran. He had just reached +the House, and was congratulating himself on having escaped, when the +worst happened. At the private entrance stood Merevale, and with him +the Headmaster himself. They both eyed him with considerable interest +as he shot in at the boys' entrance. + +'Harrison,' said Merevale after breakfast. + +'Yes, sir?' + +'The Headmaster wishes to see you--again.' + +'Yes, sir,' said Harrison. + +There was a curious lack of enthusiasm in his voice. + + + + +[3] + +L'AFFAIRE UNCLE JOHN +(_A Story in Letters_) + + + +I + +From Richard Venables, of St Austin's School, to his brother Archibald +Venables, of King's College, Cambridge: + +Dear Archie--I take up my pen to write to you, not as one hoping for an +answer, but rather in order that (you notice the Thucydidean +construction) I may tell you of an event the most important of those +that have gone before. You may or may not have heard far-off echoes of +my adventure with Uncle John, who has just come back from the +diamond-mines--and looks it. It happened thusly: + +Last Wednesday evening I was going through the cricket field to meet +Uncle John, at the station, as per esteemed favour from the governor, +telling me to. Just as I got on the scene, to my horror, amazement, and +disgust, I saw a middle-aged bounder, in loud checks, who, from his +looks, might have been anything from a retired pawnbroker to a +second-hand butler, sacked from his last place for stealing the +sherry, standing in the middle of the field, on the very wicket the +Rugborough match is to be played on next Saturday (tomorrow), and +digging--_digging_--I'll trouble you. Excavating great chunks of +our best turf with a walking-stick. I was so unnerved, I nearly +fainted. It's bad enough being captain of a School team under any +circs., as far as putting you off your game goes, but when you see the +wicket you've been rolling by day, and dreaming about by night, being +mangled by an utter stranger--well! They say a cow is slightly +irritated when her calf is taken away from her, but I don't suppose the +most maternal cow that ever lived came anywhere near the frenzy that +surged up in my bosom at that moment. I flew up to him, foaming at the +mouth. 'My dear sir,' I shrieked, '_are_ you aware that you're +spoiling the best wicket that has ever been prepared since cricket +began?' He looked at me, in a dazed sort of way, and said, 'What?' I +said: 'How on earth do you think we're going to play Rugborough on a +ploughed field?' 'I don't follow, mister,' he replied. A man who calls +you 'mister' is beyond the pale. You are justified in being a little +rude to him. So I said: 'Then you must be either drunk or mad, and I +trust it's the latter.' I believe that's from some book, though I don't +remember which. This did seem to wake him up a bit, but before he could +frame his opinion in words, up came Biffen, the ground-man, to have a +last look at his wicket before retiring for the night. When he saw the +holes--they were about a foot deep, and scattered promiscuously, just +where two balls out of three pitch--he almost had hysterics. I gently +explained the situation to him, and left him to settle with my friend +of the check suit. Biffen was just settling down to a sort of Philippic +when I went, and I knew that I had left the man in competent hands. +Then I went to the station. The train I had been told to meet was the +5.30. By the way, of course, I didn't know in the least what Uncle John +was like, not having seen him since I was about one-and-a-half, but I +had been told to look out for a tall, rather good-looking man. Well, +the 5.30 came in all right, but none of the passengers seemed to answer +to the description. The ones who were tall were not good looking, and +the only man who was good looking stood five feet nothing in his boots. +I did ask him if he was Mr John Dalgliesh; but, his name happening to +be Robinson, he could not oblige. I sat out a couple more trains, and +then went back to the field. The man had gone, but Biffen was still +there. 'Was you expecting anyone today, sir?' he asked, as I came up. +'Yes. Why?' I said. 'That was 'im,' said Biffen. By skilful +questioning, I elicited the whole thing. It seems that the fearsome +bargee, in checks, was the governor's 'tall, good-looking man'; in +other words, Uncle John himself. He had come by the 4.30, I suppose. +Anyway, there he was, and I had insulted him badly. Biffen told me that +he had asked who I was, and that he (Biffen) had given the information, +while he was thinking of something else to say to him about his +digging. By the way, I suppose he dug from force of habit. Thought he'd +find diamonds, perhaps. When Biffen told him this, he said in a nasty +voice: 'Then, when he comes back will you have the goodness to tell him +that my name is John Dalgliesh, and that he will hear more of this.' +And I'm uncommonly afraid I shall. The governor bars Uncle John +awfully, I know, but he wanted me to be particularly civil to him, +because he was to get me a place in some beastly firm when I leave. I +haven't heard from home yet, but I expect to soon. Still, I'd like to +know how I could stand and watch him ruining the wicket for our spot +match of the season. As it is, it won't be as good as it would have +been. The Rugborough slow man will be unplayable if he can find one of +these spots. Altogether, it's a beastly business. Write soon, though I +know you won't--Yours ever, _Dick_ + + + +II + +Telegram from Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G., to +his son Richard Venables: + +Venables, St Austin's. What all this about Uncle John. Says were +grossly rude. Write explanation next post--_Venables_. + + + +III + +Letter from Mrs James Anthony (nee Miss Dorothy Venables) to her +brother Richard Venables: + +Dear Dick--What _have_ you been doing to Uncle John? Jim and I are +stopping for a fortnight with father, and have just come in for the +whole thing. Uncle John--_isn't_ he a horrible man?--says you were +grossly insolent to him when he went down to see you. _Do_ write +and tell me all about it. I have heard no details as yet. Father +refuses to give them, and gets simply _furious_ when the matter is +mentioned. Jim said at dinner last night that a conscientious boy would +probably feel bound to be rude to Uncle John. Father said 'Conscience +be--'; I forget the rest, but it was awful. Jim says if he gets any +worse we shall have to sit on his head, and cut the traces. He is +getting so dreadfully _horsey_. Do write the very minute you get +this. I want to know all about it.--Your affectionate sister, _Dorothy_ + + + +IV + +Part of Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his father +Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.: + +... So you see it was really his fault. The Emperor of Germany has no +right to come and dig holes in our best wicket. Take a parallel case. +Suppose some idiot of a fellow (not that Uncle John's that, of course, +but you know what I mean) came and began rooting up your azaleas. +Wouldn't you want to say something cutting? I will apologize to Uncle +John, if you like; but still, I do think he might have gone somewhere +else if he really wanted to dig. So you see, etc., etc. + + + +V + +Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his sister Mrs James +Anthony: + +Dear Dolly--Thanks awfully for your letter, and thank Jim for his +message. He's a ripper. I'm awfully glad you married him and not that +rotter, Thompson, who used to hang on so. I hope the most marvellous +infant on earth is flourishing. And now about Uncle John. Really, I am +jolly glad I did say all that to him. We played Rugborough yesterday, +and the wicket was simply vile. They won the toss, and made two hundred +and ten. Of course, the wicket was all right at one end, and that's +where they made most of their runs. I was wicket-keeping as usual, and +I felt awfully ashamed of the beastly pitch when their captain asked me +if it was the football-field. Of course, he wouldn't have said that if +he hadn't been a pal of mine, but it was probably what the rest of the +team thought, only they were too polite to say so. When we came to bat +it was worse than ever. I went in first with Welch--that's the fellow +who stopped a week at home a few years ago; I don't know whether you +remember him. He got out in the first over, caught off a ball that +pitched where Uncle John had been prospecting, and jumped up. It was +rotten luck, of course, and worse was to follow, for by half-past five +we had eight wickets down for just over the hundred, and only young +Scott, who's simply a slogger, and another fellow to come in. Well, +Scott came in. I had made about sixty then, and was fairly well +set--and he started simply mopping up the bowling. He gave a chance +every over as regular as clockwork, and it was always missed, and then +he would make up for it with two or three tremendous whangs--a safe +four every time. It wasn't batting. It was more like golf. Well, this +went on for some time, and we began to get hopeful again, having got a +hundred and eighty odd. I just kept up my wicket, while Scott hit. Then +he got caught, and the last man, a fellow called Moore, came in. I'd +put him in the team as a bowler, but he could bat a little, too, on +occasions, and luckily this was one of them. There were only eleven to +win, and I had the bowling. I was feeling awfully fit, and put their +slow man clean over the screen twice running, which left us only three +to get. Then it was over, and Moore played the fast man in grand style, +though he didn't score. Well, I got the bowling again, and half-way +through the over I carted a half-volley into the Pav., and that gave us +the match. Moore hung on for a bit and made about ten, and then got +bowled. We made 223 altogether, of which I had managed to get +seventy-eight, not out. It pulls my average up a good bit. Rather +decent, isn't it? The fellows rotted about a good deal, and chaired me +into the Pav., but it was Scott who won us the match, I think. He made +ninety-four. But Uncle John nearly did for us with his beastly +walking-stick. On a good wicket we might have made any number. I don't +know how the affair will end. Keep me posted up in the governor's +symptoms, and write again soon.--Your affectionate brother, _Dick_ + +PS.--On looking over this letter, I find I have taken it for granted +that you know all about the Uncle John affair. Probably you do, but, in +case you don't, it was this way. You see, I was going, etc., etc. + + + +VI + +From Archibald Venables, of King's College, Cambridge, to Richard +Venables, of St Austin's: + +Dear Dick--Just a line to thank you for your letter, and to tell you +that since I got it I have had a visit from the great Uncle John, too. +He _is_ an outsider, if you like. I gave him the best lunch I +could in my rooms, and the man started a long lecture on extravagance. +He doesn't seem to understand the difference between the 'Varsity and a +private school. He kept on asking leading questions about pocket-money +and holidays, and wanted to know if my master allowed me to walk in the +streets in that waistcoat--a remark which cut me to the quick, 'that +waistcoat' being quite the most posh thing of the sort in Cambridge. He +then enquired after my studies; and, finally, when I saw him off at the +station, said that he had decided not to tip me, because he was afraid +that I was inclined to be extravagant. I was quite kind to him, +however, in spite of everything; but I was glad you had spoken to him +like a father. The recollection of it soothed me, though it seemed to +worry him. He talked a good deal about it. Glad you came off against +Rugborough.--Yours ever, _A. Venables_ + + + +VII + +From Mr John Dalgliesh to Mr Philip Mortimer, of Penge: + +Dear Sir--In reply to your letter of the 18th inst., I shall be happy +to recommend your son, Reginald, for the vacant post in the firm of +Messrs Van Nugget, Diomonde, and Mynes, African merchants. I have +written them to that effect, and you will, doubtless, receive a +communication from them shortly.--I am, my dear sir, yours faithfully, +_J. Dalgliesh_ + + + +VIII + +From Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his father Major-General Sir +Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.: + +Dear Father--Uncle John writes, in answer to my apology, to say that no +apologies will meet the case; and that he has given his nomination in +that rotten City firm of his to a fellow called Mortimer. But rather a +decent thing has happened. There is a chap here I know pretty well, who +is the son of Lord Marmaduke Twistleton, and it appears that the dook +himself was down watching the Rugborough match, and liked my batting. +He came and talked to me after the match, and asked me what I was going +to do when I left, and I said I wasn't certain, and he said that, if I +hadn't anything better on, he could give me a place on his estate up in +Scotland, as a sort of land-agent, as he wanted a chap who could play +cricket, because he was keen on the game himself, and always had a lot +going on in the summer up there. So he says that, if I go up to the +'Varsity for three years, he can guarantee me the place when I come +down, with a jolly good screw and a ripping open-air life, with lots of +riding, and so on, which is just what I've always wanted. So, can I? +It's the sort of opportunity that won't occur again, and you know you +always said the only reason I couldn't go up to the 'Varsity was, that +it would be a waste of time. But in this case, you see, it won't, +because he wants me to go, and guarantees me the place when I come +down. It'll be awfully fine, if I may. I hope you'll see it.--Your +affectionate son, _Dick_ + +PS.--I think he's writing to you. He asked your address. I think Uncle +John's a rotter. I sent him a rattling fine apology, and this is how he +treats it. But it'll be all right if you like this land-agent idea. If +you like, you might wire your answer. + + + +IX + +Telegram from Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G., to +his son Richard Venables, of St Austin's: + +Venables, St Austin's. Very well.--_Venables_ + + + +X + +Extract from Letter from Richard Venables, of St Austin's, to his +father Major-General Sir Everard Venables, V.C., K.C.M.G.: + +... Thanks, awfully-- + +Extract from _The Austinian_ of October: + +The following O.A.s have gone into residence this year: At Oxford, J. +Scrymgeour, Corpus Christi; R. Venables, Trinity; K. Crespigny-Brown, +Balliol. + +Extract from the _Daily Mail_'s account of the 'Varsity match of +the following summer: + +... The St Austin's freshman, Venables, fully justified his inclusion by +scoring a stylish fifty-seven. He hit eight fours, and except for a +miss-hit in the slips, at 51, which Smith might possibly have secured +had he started sooner, gave nothing like a chance. Venables, it will be +remembered, played several good innings for Oxford in the earlier +matches, notably, his not out contribution of 103 against Sussex-- + + + + +[4] + +HARRISON'S SLIGHT ERROR + + +The one o'clock down express was just on the point of starting. The +engine-driver, with his hand on the lever, whiled away the moments, +like the watchman in _The Agamemnon_, by whistling. The guard +endeavoured to talk to three people at once. Porters flitted to and +fro, cleaving a path for themselves with trucks of luggage. The Usual +Old Lady was asking if she was right for some place nobody had ever +heard of. Everybody was saying good-bye to everybody else, and last, +but not least, P. St H. Harrison, of St Austin's, was strolling at a +leisurely pace towards the rear of the train. There was no need for him +to hurry. For had not his friend, Mace, promised to keep a corner-seat +for him while he went to the refreshment-room to lay in supplies? +Undoubtedly he had, and Harrison, as he watched the struggling crowd, +congratulated himself that he was not as other men. A corner seat in a +carriage full of his own particular friends, with plenty of provisions, +and something to read in case he got tired of talking--it would be +perfect. + +So engrossed was he in these reflections, that he did not notice that +from the opposite end of the platform a youth of about his own age was +also making for the compartment in question. The first intimation he +had of his presence was when the latter, arriving first at the door by +a short head, hurled a bag on to the rack, and sank gracefully into the +identical corner seat which Harrison had long regarded as his own +personal property. And to make matters worse, there was no other vacant +seat in the compartment. Harrison was about to protest, when the guard +blew his whistle. There was nothing for it but to jump in and argue the +matter out _en route_. Harrison jumped in, to be greeted instantly +by a chorus of nine male voices. 'Outside there! No room! Turn him +out!' said the chorus. Then the chorus broke up into its component +parts, and began to address him one by one. + +'You rotter, Harrison,' said Babington, of Dacre's, 'what do you come +barging in here for? Can't you see we're five aside already?' + +'Hope you've brought a sardine-opener with you, old chap,' said +Barrett, the peerless pride of Philpott's, ''cos we shall jolly well +need one when we get to the good old Junct-i-on. Get up into the rack, +Harrison, you're stopping the ventilation.' + +The youth who had commandeered Harrison's seat so neatly took another +unpardonable liberty at this point. He grinned. Not the timid, +deprecating smile of one who wishes to ingratiate himself with +strangers, but a good, six-inch grin right across his face. Harrison +turned on him savagely. + +'Look here,' he said, 'just you get out of that. What do you mean by +bagging my seat?' + +'Are you a director of this line?' enquired the youth politely. Roars +of applause from the interested audience. Harrison began to feel hot +and uncomfortable. + +'Or only the Emperor of Germany?' pursued his antagonist. + +More applause, during which Harrison dropped his bag of provisions, +which were instantly seized and divided on the share and share alike +system, among the gratified Austinians. + +'Look here, none of your cheek,' was the shockingly feeble retort which +alone occurred to him. The other said nothing. Harrison returned to the +attack. + +'Look here,' he said, 'are you going to get out, or have I got to make +you?' + +Not a word did his opponent utter. To quote the bard: 'The stripling +smiled.' To tell the truth, the stripling smiled inanely. + +The other occupants of the carriage were far from imitating his +reserve. These treacherous friends, realizing that, for those who were +themselves comfortably seated, the spectacle of Harrison standing up +with aching limbs for a journey of some thirty miles would be both +grateful and comforting, espoused the cause of the unknown with all the +vigour of which they were capable. + +'Beastly bully, Harrison,' said Barrett. 'Trying to turn the kid out of +his seat! Why can't you leave the chap alone? Don't you move, kid.' + +'Thanks,' said the unknown, 'I wasn't going to.' + +'Now you see what comes of slacking,' said Grey. 'If you'd bucked up +and got here in time you might have bagged this seat I've got. By Jove, +Harrison, you've no idea how comfortable it is in this corner.' + +'Punctuality,' said Babington, 'is the politeness of princes.' + +And again the unknown maddened Harrison with a 'best-on-record' grin. + +'But, I say, you chaps,' said he, determined as a last resource to +appeal to their better feelings (if any), 'Mace was keeping this seat +for me, while I went to get some grub. Weren't you, Mace?' He turned to +Mace for corroboration. To his surprise, Mace was nowhere to be seen. + +His sympathetic school-fellows grasped the full humour of the situation +as one man, and gave tongue once more in chorus. + +'You weed,' they yelled joyfully, 'you've got into the wrong carriage. +Mace is next door.' + +And then, with the sound of unquenchable laughter ringing in his ears, +Harrison gave the thing up, and relapsed into a disgusted silence. No +single word did he speak until the journey was done, and the carriage +emptied itself of its occupants at the Junction. The local train was in +readiness to take them on to St Austin's, and this time Harrison +managed to find a seat without much difficulty. But it was a bitter +moment when Mace, meeting him on the platform, addressed him as a +rotter, for that he had not come to claim the corner seat which he had +been reserving for him. They had had, said Mace, a rattling good time +coming down. What sort of a time had Harrison had in _his_ +carriage? Harrison's reply was not remarkable for its clearness. + +The unknown had also entered the local train. It was plain, therefore, +that he was coming to the School as a new boy. Harrison began to wonder +if, under these circumstances, something might not be done in the +matter by way of levelling up things. He pondered. When St Austin's +station was reached, and the travellers began to stream up the road +towards the College, he discovered that the newcomer was a member of +his own House. He was standing close beside him, and heard Babington +explaining to him the way to Merevale's. Merevale was Harrison's +House-master. + +It was two minutes after he had found out this fact that the Grand Idea +came to Harrison. He saw his way now to a revenge so artistic, so +beautifully simple, that it was with some difficulty that he restrained +himself from bursting into song. For two pins, he felt, he could have +done a cake-walk. + +He checked his emotion. He beat it steadily back, and quenched it. When +he arrived at Merevale's, he went first to the matron's room. 'Has +Venables come back yet?' he asked. + +Venables was the head of Merevale's House, captain of the School +cricket, wing three-quarter of the School Fifteen, and a great man +altogether. + +'Yes,' said the matron, 'he came back early this afternoon.' + +Harrison knew it. Venables always came back early on the last day of +the holidays. + +'He was upstairs a short while ago,' continued the matron. 'He was +putting his study tidy.' + +Harrison knew it. Venables always put his study tidy on the last day of +the holidays. He took a keen and perfectly justifiable pride in his +study, which was the most luxurious in the House. + +'Is he there now?' asked Harrison. + +'No. He has gone over to see the Headmaster.' + +'Thanks,' said Harrison, 'it doesn't matter. It wasn't anything +important.' + +He retired triumphant. Things were going excellently well for his +scheme. + +His next act was to go to the fags' room, where, as he had expected, he +found his friend of the train. Luck continued to be with him. The +unknown was alone. + +'Hullo!' said Harrison. + +'Hullo!' said the fellow-traveller. He had resolved to follow +Harrison's lead. If Harrison was bringing war, then war let it be. If, +however, his intentions were friendly, he would be friendly too. + +'I didn't know you were coming to Merevale's. It's the best House in +the School.' + +'Oh!' + +'Yes, for one thing, everybody except the kids has a study.' + +'What? Not really? Why, I thought we had to keep to this room. One of +the chaps told me so.' + +'Trying to green you, probably. You must look out for that sort of +thing. I'll show you the way to your study, if you like. Come along +upstairs.' + +'Thanks, awfully. It's awfully good of you,' said the gratified +unknown, and they went upstairs together. + +One of the doors which they passed on their way was open, disclosing to +view a room which, though bare at present, looked as if it might be +made exceedingly comfortable. + +'That's my den,' said Harrison. It was perhaps lucky that Graham, to +whom the room belonged, in fact, as opposed to fiction, did not hear +the remark. Graham and Harrison were old and tried foes. 'This is +yours.' Harrison pushed open another door at the end of the passage. + +His companion stared blankly at the Oriental luxury which met his eye. +'But, I say,' he said, 'are you sure? This seems to be occupied +already.' + +'Oh, no, that's all right,' said Harrison, airily. 'The chap who used +to be here left last term. He didn't know he was going to leave till it +was too late to pack up all his things, so he left his study as it was. +All you've got to do is to cart the things out into the passage and +leave them there. The Moke'll take 'em away.' + +The Moke was the official who combined in a single body the duties of +butler and bootboy at Merevale's House. 'Oh, right-ho!' said the +unknown, and Harrison left him. + +Harrison's idea was that when Venables returned and found an absolute +stranger placidly engaged in wrecking his carefully-tidied study, he +would at once, and without making inquiries, fall upon that absolute +stranger and blot him off the face of the earth. Afterwards it might +possibly come out that he, Harrison, had been not altogether +unconnected with the business, and then, he was fain to admit, there +might be trouble. But he was a youth who never took overmuch heed for +the morrow. Sufficient unto the day was his motto. And, besides, it was +distinctly worth risking. The main point, and the one with which alone +the House would concern itself, was that he had completely taken in, +scored off, and overwhelmed the youth who had done as much by him in +the train, and his reputation as one not to be lightly trifled with +would be restored to its former brilliance. Anything that might happen +between himself and Venables subsequently would be regarded as a purely +private matter between man and man, affecting the main point not at +all. + +About an hour later a small Merevalian informed Harrison that Venables +wished to see him in his study. He went. Experience had taught him that +when the Head of the House sent for him, it was as a rule as well to +humour his whim and go. He was prepared for a good deal, for he had +come to the conclusion that it was impossible for him to preserve his +incognito in the matter, but he was certainly not prepared for what he +saw. + +Venables and the stranger were seated in two armchairs, apparently on +the very best of terms with one another. And this, in spite of the fact +that these two armchairs were the only furniture left in the study. The +rest, as he had noted with a grin before he had knocked at the door, +was picturesquely scattered about the passage. + +'Hullo, Harrison,' said Venables, 'I wanted to see you. There seems to +have been a slight mistake somewhere. Did you tell my brother to shift +all the furniture out of the study?' + +Harrison turned a delicate shade of green. + +'Your--er--brother?' he gurgled. + +'Yes. I ought to have told you my brother was coming to the Coll. this +term. I told the Old Man and Merevale and the rest of the authorities. +Can't make out why I forgot you. Slipped my mind somehow. However, you +seem to have been doing the square thing by him, showing him round and +so on. Very good of you.' + +Harrison smiled feebly. Venables junior grinned. What seemed to +Harrison a mystery was how the brothers had managed to arrive at the +School at different times. The explanation of which was in reality very +simple. The elder Venables had been spending the last week of the +holidays with MacArthur, the captain of the St Austin's Fifteen, the +same being a day boy, suspended within a mile of the School. + +'But what I can't make out,' went on Venables, relentlessly, 'is this +furniture business. To the best of my knowledge I didn't leave suddenly +at the end of last term. I'll ask if you like, to make sure, but I +fancy you'll find you've been mistaken. Must have been thinking of +someone else. Anyhow, we thought you must know best, so we lugged all +the furniture out into the passage, and now it appears there's been a +mistake of sorts, and the stuff ought to be inside all the time. So +would you mind putting it back again? We'd help you, only we're going +out to the shop to get some tea. You might have it done by the time we +get back. Thanks, awfully.' + +Harrison coughed nervously, and rose to a point of order. + +'I was going out to tea, too,' he said. + +'I'm sorry, but I think you'll have to scratch the engagement,' said +Venables. + +Harrison made a last effort. + +'I'm fagging for Welch this term,' he protested. + +It was the rule at St Austin's that every fag had the right to refuse +to serve two masters. Otherwise there would have been no peace for that +down-trodden race. + +'That,' said Venables, 'ought to be awfully jolly for Welch, don't you +know, but as a matter of fact term hasn't begun yet. It doesn't start +till tomorrow. Weigh in.' + +Various feelings began to wage war beneath Harrison's Eton waistcoat. A +profound disinclination to undertake the suggested task battled briskly +with a feeling that, if he refused the commission, things might--nay, +would--happen. + +'Harrison,' said Venables gently, but with meaning, as he hesitated, +'do you know what it is to wish you had never been born?' + +And Harrison, with a thoughtful expression on his face, picked up a +photograph from the floor, and hung it neatly in its place over the +mantelpiece. + + + + +[5] + +BRADSHAW'S LITTLE STORY + + +The qualities which in later years rendered Frederick Wackerbath +Bradshaw so conspicuous a figure in connection with the now celebrated +affair of the European, African, and Asiatic Pork Pie and Ham Sandwich +Supply Company frauds, were sufficiently in evidence during his school +career to make his masters prophesy gloomily concerning his future. The +boy was in every detail the father of the man. There was the same +genial unscrupulousness, upon which the judge commented so bitterly +during the trial, the same readiness to seize an opportunity and make +the most of it, the same brilliance of tactics. Only once during those +years can I remember an occasion on which Justice scored a point +against him. I can remember it, because I was in a sense responsible +for his failure. And he can remember it, I should be inclined to think, +for other reasons. Our then Headmaster was a man with a straight eye +and a good deal of muscular energy, and it is probable that the +talented Frederick, in spite of the passage of years, has a tender +recollection of these facts. + +It was the eve of the Euripides examination in the Upper Fourth. +Euripides is not difficult compared to some other authors, but he does +demand a certain amount of preparation. Bradshaw was a youth who did +less preparation than anybody I have ever seen, heard of, or read of, +partly because he preferred to peruse a novel under the table during +prep., but chiefly, I think, because he had reduced cribbing in form to +such an exact science that he loved it for its own sake, and would no +sooner have come tamely into school with a prepared lesson than a +sportsman would shoot a sitting bird. It was not the marks that he +cared for. He despised them. What he enjoyed was the refined pleasure +of swindling under a master's very eye. At the trial the judge, who +had, so ran report, been himself rather badly bitten by the Ham +Sandwich Company, put the case briefly and neatly in the words, 'You +appear to revel in villainy for villainy's sake,' and I am almost +certain that I saw the beginnings of a gratified smile on Frederick's +expressive face as he heard the remark. The rest of our study--the +juniors at St Austin's pigged in quartettes--were in a state of +considerable mental activity on account of this Euripides examination. +There had been House-matches during the preceding fortnight, and +House-matches are not a help to study, especially if you are on the +very fringe of the cock-house team, as I was. By dint of practising +every minute of spare time, I had got the eleventh place for my +fielding. And, better still, I had caught two catches in the second +innings, one of them a regular gallery affair, and both off the +captain's bowling. It was magnificent, but it was not Euripides, and I +wished now that it had been. Mellish, our form-master, had an +unpleasant habit of coming down with both feet, as it were, on members +of his form who failed in the book-papers. + +We were working, therefore, under forced draught, and it was distinctly +annoying to see the wretched Bradshaw lounging in our only armchair +with one of Rider Haggard's best, seemingly quite unmoved at the +prospect of Euripides examinations. For all he appeared to care, +Euripides might never have written a line in his life. + +Kendal voiced the opinion of the meeting. + +'Bradshaw, you worm,' he said. 'Aren't you going to do _any_ +work?' + +'Think not. What's the good? Can't get up a whole play of Euripides in +two hours.' + +'Mellish'll give you beans.' + +'Let him.' + +'You'll get a jolly bad report.' + +'Shan't get a report at all. I always intercept it before my guardian +can get it. He never says anything.' + +'Mellish'll probably run you in to the Old Man,' said White, the fourth +occupant of the study. + +Bradshaw turned on us with a wearied air. + +'Oh, do give us a rest,' he said. 'Here you are just going to do a most +important exam., and you sit jawing away as if you were paid for it. +Oh, I say, by the way, who's setting the paper tomorrow?' + +'Mellish, of course,' said White. + +'No, he isn't,' I said. 'Shows what a lot you know about it. Mellish is +setting the Livy paper.' + +'Then, who's doing this one?' asked Bradshaw. + +'Yorke.' + +Yorke was the master of the Upper Fifth. He generally set one of the +upper fourth book-papers. + +'Certain?' said Bradshaw. + +'Absolutely.' + +'Thanks. That's all I wanted to know. By Jove, I advise you chaps to +read this. It's grand. Shall I read out this bit about a fight?' + +'No!' we shouted virtuously, all together, though we were dying to hear +it, and we turned once more to the loathsome inanities of the second +chorus. If we had been doing Homer, we should have felt more in touch +with Bradshaw. There's a good deal of similarity, when you come to +compare them, between Homer and Haggard. They both deal largely in +bloodshed, for instance. As events proved, the Euripides paper, like +many things which seem formidable at a distance, was not nearly so bad +as I had expected. I did a fair-to-moderate paper, and Kendal and White +both seemed satisfied with themselves. Bradshaw confessed without +emotion that he had only attempted the last half of the last question, +and on being pressed for further information, merely laughed +mysteriously, and said vaguely that it would be all right. + +It now became plain that he had something up his sleeve. We expressed a +unanimous desire to know what it was. + +'You might tell a chap,' I said. + +'Out with it, Bradshaw, or we'll lynch you,' added Kendal. + +Bradshaw, however, was not to be drawn. Much of his success in the +paths of crime, both at school and afterwards, was due to his secretive +habits. He never permitted accomplices. + +On the following Wednesday the marks were read out. Out of a possible +hundred I had obtained sixty--which pleased me very much indeed--White, +fifty-five, Kendal, sixty-one. The unspeakable Bradshaw's net total was +four. + +Mellish always read out bad marks in a hushed voice, expressive of +disgust and horror, but four per cent was too much for him. He shouted +it, and the form yelled applause, until Ponsonby came in from the Upper +Fifth next door with Mr Yorke's compliments, 'and would we recollect +that his form were trying to do an examination'. + +When order had been restored, Mellish settled his glasses and glared +through them at Bradshaw, who, it may be remarked, had not turned a +hair. + +'Bradshaw,' he said, 'how do you explain this?' + +It was merely a sighting shot, so to speak. Nobody was ever expected to +answer the question. Bradshaw, however, proved himself the exception to +the rule. + +'I can explain, sir,' he said, 'if I may speak to you privately +afterwards.' + +I have seldom seen anyone so astonished as Mellish was at these words. +In the whole course of his professional experience, he had never met +with a parallel case. It was hard on the poor man not to be allowed to +speak his mind about a matter of four per cent in a book-paper, but +what could he do? He could not proceed with his denunciation, for if +Bradshaw's explanation turned out a sufficient excuse, he would have to +withdraw it all again, and vast stores of golden eloquence would be +wasted. But, then, if he bottled up what he wished to say altogether, +it might do him a serious internal injury. At last he hit on a +compromise. He said, 'Very well, Bradshaw, I will hear what you have to +say,' and then sprang, like the cat in the poem, 'all claws', upon an +unfortunate individual who had scored twenty-nine, and who had been +congratulating himself that Bradshaw's failings would act as a sort of +lightning-conductor to him. Bradshaw worked off his explanation in +under five minutes. I tried to stay behind to listen, on the pretext of +wanting to tidy up my desk, but was ejected by request. Bradshaw +explained that his statement was private. + +After a time they came out together like long-lost brothers, Mellish +with his hand on Bradshaw's shoulder. It was some small comfort to me +to remember that Bradshaw had the greatest dislike to this sort of +thing. + +It was evident that Bradshaw, able exponent of the art of fiction that +he was, must have excelled himself on this occasion. I tried to get the +story out of him in the study that evening. White and Kendal assisted. +We tried persuasion first. That having failed, we tried taunts. Then we +tried kindness. Kendal sat on his legs, and I sat on his head, and +White twisted his arm. I think that we should have extracted something +soon, either his arm from its socket or a full confession, but we were +interrupted. The door flew open, and Prater (the same being our +House-master, and rather a good sort) appeared. + +'Now then, now then,' he said. Prater's manner is always abrupt. + +'What's this? I can't have this. I can't have this. Get up at once. +Where's Bradshaw?' + +I rose gracefully to my feet, thereby disclosing the classic features +of the lost one. + +'The Headmaster wants to see you at once, Bradshaw, at the School +House. You others had better find something to do, or you will be +getting into trouble.' + +He and Bradshaw left together, while we speculated on the cause of the +summons. + +We were not left very long in suspense. In a quarter of an hour +Bradshaw returned, walking painfully, and bearing what, to the expert's +eye, are the unmistakable signs of a 'touching up', which, being +interpreted, is corporal punishment. + +'Hullo,' said White, as he appeared, 'what's all this?' + +'How many?' enquired the statistically-minded Kendal. 'You'll be +thankful for this when you're a man, Bradshaw.' + +'That's what I always say to myself when I'm touched up,' added Kendal. + +I said nothing, but it was to me that the wounded one addressed +himself. + +'You utter ass,' he said, in tones of concentrated venom. + +'Look here, Bradshaw--' I began, protestingly. + +'It's all through you--you idiot,' he snarled. 'I got twelve.' + +'Twelve isn't so dusty,' said White, critically. 'Most I ever got was +six.' + +'But why was it?' asked Kendal. 'That's what we want to know. What have +you been and gone and done?' + +'It's about that Euripides paper,' said Bradshaw. + +'Ah!' said Kendal. + +'Yes, I don't mind telling you about it now. When Mellish had me up +after school today, I'd got my yarn all ready. There wasn't a flaw in +it anywhere as far as I could see. My idea was this. I told him I'd +been to Yorke's room the day before the exam, to ask him if he had any +marks for us. That was all right. Yorke was doing the two Unseen +papers, and it was just the sort of thing a fellow would do to go and +ask him about the marks.' + +'Well?' + +'Then when I got there he was out, and I looked about for the marks, +and on the table I saw the Euripides paper.' + +'By Jove!' said Kendal. We began to understand, and to realize that +here was a master-mind. + +'Well, of course, I read it, not knowing what it was, and then, as the +only way of not taking an unfair advantage, I did as badly as I could +in the exam. That was what I told Mellish. Any beak would have +swallowed it.' + +'Well, didn't he?' + +'Mellish did all right, but the rotter couldn't keep it to himself. +Went and told the Old Man. The Old Man sent for me. He was as decent as +anything at first. That was just his guile. He made me describe exactly +where I had seen the paper, and so on. That was rather risky, of +course, but I put it as vaguely as I could. When I had finished, he +suddenly whipped round, and said, "Bradshaw, why are you telling me all +these lies?" That's the sort of thing that makes you feel rather a +wreck. I was too surprised to say anything.' + +'I can guess the rest,' said Kendal. 'But how on earth did he know it +was all lies? Why didn't you stick to your yarn?' + +'And, besides,' I put in, 'where do I come in? I don't see what I've +got to do with it.' + +Bradshaw eyed me fiercely. 'Why, the whole thing was your fault,' he +said. 'You told me Yorke was setting the paper.' + +'Well, so he did, didn't he?' + +'No, he didn't. The Old Man set it himself,' said Bradshaw, gloomily. + + + + +[6] + +A SHOCKING AFFAIR + + +The Bradshaw who appears in the following tale is the same youth who +figures as the hero--or villain, label him as you like--of the +preceding equally veracious narrative. I mention this because I should +not care for you to go away with the idea that a waistcoat marked with +the name of Bradshaw must of necessity cover a scheming heart. It may, +however, be noticed that a good many members of the Bradshaw family +possess a keen and rather sinister sense of the humorous, inherited +doubtless from their great ancestor, the dry wag who wrote that +monument of quiet drollery, _Bradshaw's Railway Guide_. So with +the hero of my story. + +Frederick Wackerbath Bradshaw was, as I have pointed out, my +contemporary at St Austin's. We were in the same House, and together we +sported on the green--and elsewhere--and did our best to turn the +majority of the staff of masters into confirmed pessimists, they in the +meantime endeavouring to do the same by us with every weapon that lay +to their hand. And the worst of these weapons were the end-of-term +examination papers. Mellish was our form-master, and once a term a +demon entered into Mellish. He brooded silently apart from the madding +crowd. He wandered through dry places seeking rest, and at intervals he +would smile evilly, and jot down a note on the back of an envelope. +These notes, collected and printed closely on the vilest paper, made up +the examination questions. + +Our form read two authors a term, one Latin and one Greek. It was the +Greek that we feared most. Mellish had a sort of genius for picking out +absolutely untranslatable passages, and desiring us (in print) to +render the same with full notes. This term the book had been +Thucydides, Book II, with regard to which I may echo the words of a +certain critic when called upon to give his candid opinion of a +friend's first novel, 'I dare not say what I think about that book.' + +About a week before the commencement of the examinations, the ordinary +night-work used to cease, and we were supposed, during that week, to be +steadily going over the old ground and arming ourselves for the +approaching struggle. There were, I suppose, people who actually did do +this, but for my own part I always used to regard those seven days as a +blessed period of rest, set apart specially to enable me to keep +abreast of the light fiction of the day. And most of the form, so far +as I know, thought the same. It was only on the night before the +examination that one began to revise in real earnest. One's methods on +that night resolved themselves into sitting in a chair and wondering +where to begin. Just as one came to a decision, it was bedtime. + +'Bradshaw,' I said, as I reached page 103 without having read a line, +'do you know any likely bits?' + +Bradshaw looked up from his book. He was attempting to get a general +idea of Thucydides' style by reading _Pickwick_. + +'What?' he said. + +I obliged with a repetition of my remark. + +'Likely bits? Oh, you mean for the Thucydides. I don't know. Mellish +never sets the bits any decent ordinary individual would set. I should +take my chance if I were you.' + +'What are you going to do?' + +'I'm going to read _Pickwick_. Thicksides doesn't come within a +mile of it.' + +I thought so too. + +'But how about tomorrow?' + +'Oh, I shan't be there,' he said, as if it were the most ordinary of +statements. + +'Not there! Why, have you been sacked?' + +This really seemed the only possible explanation. Such an event would +not have come as a surprise. It was always a matter for wonder to me +_why_ the authorities never sacked Bradshaw, or at the least +requested him to leave. Possibly it was another case of the ass and the +bundles of hay. They could not make up their minds which special +misdemeanour of his to attack first. + +'No, I've not been sacked,' said Bradshaw. + +A light dawned upon me. + +'Oh,' I said, 'you're going to slumber in.' For the benefit of the +uninitiated, I may mention that to slumber in is to stay in the House +during school on a pretence of illness. + +'That,' replied the man of mystery, with considerable asperity, 'is +exactly the silly rotten kid's idea that would come naturally to a +complete idiot like you.' + +As a rule, I resent being called a complete idiot, but this was not the +time for asserting one's personal dignity. I had to know what +Bradshaw's scheme for evading the examination was. Perhaps there might +be room for two in it; in which case I should have been exceedingly +glad to have lent my moral support to it. I pressed for an explanation. + +'You may jaw,' said Bradshaw at last, 'as much as you jolly well +please, but I'm not going to give this away. All you're going to know +is that I shan't be there tomorrow.' + +'I bet you are, and I bet you do a jolly rank paper too,' I said, +remembering that the sceptic is sometimes vouchsafed revelations to +which the most devout believer may not aspire. It is, for instance, +always the young man who scoffs at ghosts that the family spectre +chooses as his audience. But it required more than a mere sneer or an +empty gibe to pump information out of Bradshaw. He took me up at once. + +'What'll you bet?' he said. + +Now I was prepared to wager imaginary sums to any extent he might have +cared to name, but as my actual worldly wealth at that moment consisted +of one penny, and my expectations were limited to the shilling +pocket-money which I should receive on the following Saturday--half of +which was already mortgaged--it behoved me to avoid doing anything rash +with my ready money. But, since a refusal would have meant the downfall +of my arguments, I was obliged to name a figure. I named an even +sixpence. After all, I felt, I must win. By what means, other than +illness, could Bradshaw possibly avoid putting in an appearance at the +Thucydides examination? + +'All right,' said Bradshaw, 'an even sixpence. You'll lose.' + +'Slumbering in barred.' + +'Of course.' + +'Real illness barred too,' I said. Bradshaw is a man of resource, and +has been known to make himself genuinely ill in similar emergencies. + +'Right you are. Slumbering in and real illness both barred. Anything +else you'd like to bar?' + +I thought. + +'No. Unless--' an idea struck me--'You're not going to run away?' + +Bradshaw scorned to answer the question. + +'Now you'd better buck up with your work,' he said, opening his book +again. 'You've got about as long odds as anyone ever got. But you'll +lose all the same.' + +It scarcely seemed possible. And yet--Bradshaw was generally right. If +he said he had a scheme for doing--though it was generally for not +doing--something, it rarely failed to come off. I thought of my +sixpence, my only sixpence, and felt a distinct pang of remorse. After +all, only the other day the chaplain had said how wrong it was to bet. +By Jove, so he had. Decent man the chaplain. Pity to do anything he +would disapprove of. I was on the point of recalling my wager, when +before my mind's eye rose a vision of Bradshaw rampant and sneering, +and myself writhing in my chair a crushed and scored-off wreck. I drew +the line at that. I valued my self-respect at more than sixpence. If it +had been a shilling now--. So I set my teeth and turned once more to my +Thucydides. Bradshaw, having picked up the thread of his story again, +emitted hoarse chuckles like minute guns, until I very nearly rose and +fell upon him. It is maddening to listen to a person laughing and not +to know the joke. + +'You will be allowed two hours for this paper,' said Mellish on the +following afternoon, as he returned to his desk after distributing the +Thucydides questions. 'At five minutes to four I shall begin to collect +your papers, but those who wish may go on till ten past. Write only on +one side of the paper, and put your names in the top right-hand corner. +Marks will be given for neatness. Any boy whom I see looking at his +neighbour's--_where's Bradshaw?_' + +It was already five minutes past the hour. The latest of the late +always had the decency to appear at least by three minutes past. + +'Has anybody seen Bradshaw?' repeated Mellish. 'You, +what's-your-name--' (I am what's-your-name, very much at your +service) '--you are in his House. Have you seen him?' + +I could have pointed out with some pleasure at this juncture that if +Cain expressed indignation at being asked where his brother was, I, by +a simple sum in proportion, might with even greater justice feel +annoyed at having to locate a person who was no relative of mine at +all. Did Mr Mellish expect me to keep an eye on every member of my +House? Did Mr Mellish--in short, what did he mean by it? + +This was what I thought. I said, 'No, sir.' + +'This is extraordinary,' said Mellish, 'most extraordinary. Why, the +boy was in school this morning.' + +This was true. The boy had been in school that morning to some purpose, +having beaten all records (his own records) in the gentle sport of +Mellish-baiting. This evidently occurred to Mellish at the time, for he +dropped the subject at once, and told us to begin our papers. + +Now I have remarked already that I dare not say what I think of +Thucydides, Book II. How then shall I frame my opinion of that +examination paper? It was Thucydides, Book II, with the few easy parts +left out. It was Thucydides, Book II, with special home-made +difficulties added. It was--well, in its way it was a masterpiece. +Without going into details--I dislike sensational and realistic +writing--I may say that I personally was not one of those who required +an extra ten minutes to finish their papers. I finished mine at +half-past two, and amused myself for the remaining hour and a half by +writing neatly on several sheets of foolscap exactly what I thought of +Mr Mellish, and precisely what I hoped would happen to him some day. It +was grateful and comforting. + +At intervals I wondered what had become of Bradshaw. I was not +surprised at his absence. At first I had feared that he would keep his +word in that matter. As time went on I knew that he would. At more +frequent intervals I wondered how I should enjoy being a bankrupt. + +Four o'clock came round, and found me so engrossed in putting the +finishing touches to my excursus of Mr Mellish's character, that I +stayed on in the form-room till ten past. Two other members of the form +stayed too, writing with the despairing energy of those who had five +minutes to say what they would like to spread over five hours. At last +Mellish collected the papers. He seemed a trifle surprised when I gave +up my modest three sheets. Brown and Morrison, who had their eye on the +form prize, each gave up reams. Brown told me subsequently that he had +only had time to do sixteen sheets, and wanted to know whether I had +adopted Rutherford's emendation in preference to the old reading in +Question II. My prolonged stay had made him regard me as a possible +rival. + +I dwell upon this part of my story, because it has an important bearing +on subsequent events. If I had not waited in the form-room I should not +have gone downstairs just behind Mellish. And if I had not gone +downstairs just behind Mellish, I should not have been in at the death, +that is to say the discovery of Bradshaw, and this story would have +been all beginning and middle, and no ending, for I am certain that +Bradshaw would never have told me a word. He was a most secretive +animal. + +I went downstairs, as I say, just behind Mellish. St Austin's, you must +know, is composed of three blocks of buildings, the senior, the middle, +and the junior, joined by cloisters. We left the senior block by the +door. To the captious critic this information may seem superfluous, but +let me tell him that I have left the block in my time, and entered it, +too, though never, it is true, in the company of a master, in other +ways. There are windows. + +Our procession of two, Mellish leading by a couple of yards, passed +through the cloisters, and came to the middle block, where the Masters' +Common Room is. I had no particular reason for going to that block, but +it was all on my way to the House, and I knew that Mellish hated having +his footsteps dogged. That Thucydides paper rankled slightly. + +In the middle block, at the top of the building, far from the haunts of +men, is the Science Museum, containing--so I have heard, I have never +been near the place myself--two stuffed rats, a case of mouldering +butterflies, and other objects of acute interest. The room has a +staircase all to itself, and this was the reason why, directly I heard +shouts proceeding from that staircase, I deduced that they came from +the Museum. I am like Sherlock Holmes, I don't mind explaining my +methods. + +'Help!' shouted the voice. 'Help!' + +The voice was Bradshaw's. + +Mellish was talking to M. Gerard, the French master, at the moment. He +had evidently been telling him of Bradshaw's non-appearance, for at the +sound of his voice they both spun round, and stood looking at the +staircase like a couple of pointers. + +'Help,' cried the voice again. + +Mellish and Gerard bounded up the stairs. I had never seen a French +master run before. It was a pleasant sight. I followed. As we reached +the door of the Museum, which was shut, renewed shouts filtered through +it. Mellish gave tongue. + +'Bradshaw!' + +'Yes, sir,' from within. + +'Are you there?' This I thought, and still think, quite a superfluous +question. + +'Yes, sir,' said Bradshaw. + +'What are you doing in there, Bradshaw? Why were you not in school this +afternoon? Come out at once.' This in deep and thrilling tones. + +'Please, sir,' said Bradshaw complainingly, 'I can't open the door.' +Now, the immediate effect of telling a person that you are unable to +open a door is to make him try his hand at it. Someone observes that +there are three things which everyone thinks he can do better than +anyone else, namely poking a fire, writing a novel, and opening a door. + +Gerard was no exception to the rule. + +'Can't open the door?' he said. 'Nonsense, nonsense.' And, swooping at +the handle, he grasped it firmly, and turned it. + +At this point he made an attempt, a very spirited attempt, to lower the +world's record for the standing high jump. I have spoken above of the +pleasure it gave me to see a French master run. But for good, square +enjoyment, warranted free from all injurious chemicals, give me a +French master jumping. + +'My dear Gerard,' said the amazed Mellish. + +'I have received a shock. Dear me, I have received a most terrible +shock.' + +So had I, only of another kind. I really thought I should have expired +in my tracks with the effort of keeping my enjoyment strictly to +myself. I saw what had happened. The Museum is lit by electric light. +To turn it on one has to shoot the bolt of the door, which, like the +handle, is made of metal. It is on the killing two birds with one stone +principle. You lock yourself in and light yourself up with one +movement. It was plain that the current had gone wrong somehow, run +amock, as it were. Mellish meanwhile, instead of being warned by +Gerard's fate, had followed his example, and tried to turn the handle. +His jump, though quite a creditable effort, fell short of Gerard's by +some six inches. I began to feel as if some sort of round game were +going on. I hoped that they would not want me to take a hand. I also +hoped that the thing would continue for a good while longer. The +success of the piece certainly warranted the prolongation of its run. +But here I was disappointed. The disturbance had attracted another +spectator, Blaize, the science and chemistry master. The matter was +hastily explained to him in all its bearings. There was Bradshaw +entombed within the Museum, with every prospect of death by starvation, +unless he could support life for the next few years on the two stuffed +rats and the case of butterflies. The authorities did not see their way +to adding a human specimen (youth's size) to the treasures in the +Museum, _so_--how was he to be got out? + +The scientific mind is equal to every emergency. + +'Bradshaw,' shouted Blaize through the keyhole. + +'Sir?' + +'Are you there?' + +I should imagine that Bradshaw was growing tired of this question by +this time. Besides, it cast aspersions on the veracity of Gerard and +Mellish. Bradshaw, with perfect politeness, hastened to inform the +gentleman that he was there. + +'Have you a piece of paper?' + +'Will an envelope do, sir?' + +'Bless the boy, anything will do so long as it is paper.' + +Dear me, I thought, is it as bad as all that? Is Blaize, in despair of +ever rescuing the unfortunate prisoner, going to ask him to draw up a +'last dying words' document, to be pushed under the door and despatched +to his sorrowing guardian? + +'Put it over your hand, and then shoot back the bolt.' + +'But, sir, the electricity.' + +'Pooh, boy!' + +The scientific mind is always intolerant of lay ignorance. + +'Pooh, boy, paper is a non-conductor. You won't get hurt.' + +Bradshaw apparently acted on his instructions. From the other side of +the door came the sharp sound of the bolt as it was shot back, and at +the same time the light ceased to shine through the keyhole. A moment +later the handle turned, and Bradshaw stepped forth--free! + +'Dear me,' said Mellish. 'Now I never knew that before, Blaize. +Remarkable. But this ought to be seen to. In the meantime, I had better +ask the Headmaster to give out that the Museum is closed until further +notice, I think.' + +And closed the Museum has been ever since. That further notice has +never been given. And yet nobody seems to feel as if an essential part +of their life had ceased to be, so to speak. Curious. Bradshaw, after a +short explanation, was allowed to go away without a stain--that is to +say, without any additional stain--on his character. We left the +authorities discussing the matter, and went downstairs. + +'Sixpence isn't enough,' I said, 'take this penny. It's all I've got. +You shall have the sixpence on Saturday.' + +'Thanks,' said Bradshaw.' Was the Thucydides paper pretty warm?' + +'Warmish. But, I say, didn't you get a beastly shock when you locked +the door?' + +'I did the week before last, the first time I ever went to the place. +This time I was more or less prepared for it. Blaize seems to think +that paper dodge a special invention of his own. He'll be taking out a +patent for it one of these days. Why, every kid knows that paper +doesn't conduct electricity.' + +'I didn't,' I said honestly. + +'You don't know much,' said Bradshaw, with equal honesty. + +'I don't,' I replied. 'Bradshaw, you're a great man, but you missed the +best part of it all.' + +'What, the Thucydides paper?' asked he with a grin. + +'No, you missed seeing Gerard jump quite six feet.' + +Bradshaw's face expressed keen disappointment. + +'No, did he really? Oh, I say, I wish I'd seen it.' + +The moral of which is that the wicked do not always prosper. If +Bradshaw had not been in the Museum, he might have seen Gerard jump six +feet, which would have made him happy for weeks. On second thoughts, +though, that does not work out quite right, for if Bradshaw had not +been in the Museum, Gerard would not have jumped at all. No, better put +it this way. I was virtuous, and I had the pleasure of witnessing the +sight I have referred to. But then there was the Thucydides paper, +which Bradshaw missed but which I did not. No. On consideration, the +moral of this story shall be withdrawn and submitted to a committee of +experts. Perhaps they will be able to say what it is. + + + + +[7] + +THE BABE AND THE DRAGON + + +The annual inter-house football cup at St Austin's lay between Dacre's, +who were the holders, and Merevale's, who had been runner-up in the +previous year, and had won it altogether three times out of the last +five. The cup was something of a tradition in Merevale's, but of late +Dacre's had become serious rivals, and, as has been said before, were +the present holders. + +This year there was not much to choose between the two teams. Dacre's +had three of the First Fifteen and two of the Second; Merevale's two of +the First and four of the Second. St Austin's being not altogether a +boarding-school, many of the brightest stars of the teams were day +boys, and there was, of course, always the chance that one of these +would suddenly see the folly of his ways, reform, and become a member +of a House. + +This frequently happened, and this year it was almost certain to happen +again, for no less a celebrity than MacArthur, commonly known as the +Babe, had been heard to state that he was negotiating with his parents +to that end. Which House he would go to was at present uncertain. He +did not know himself, but it would, he said, probably be one of the two +favourites for the cup. This lent an added interest to the competition, +for the presence of the Babe would almost certainly turn the scale. The +Babe's nationality was Scots, and, like most Scotsmen, he could play +football more than a little. He was the safest, coolest centre +three-quarter the School had, or had had for some time. He shone in all +branches of the game, but especially in tackling. To see the Babe +spring apparently from nowhere, in the middle of an inter-school match, +and bring down with violence a man who had passed the back, was an +intellectual treat. Both Dacre's and Merevale's, therefore, yearned for +his advent exceedingly. The reasons which finally decided his choice +were rather curious. They arose in the following manner: + +The Babe's sister was at Girton. A certain Miss Florence Beezley was +also at Girton. When the Babe's sister revisited the ancestral home at +the end of the term, she brought Miss Beezley with her to spend a week. +What she saw in Miss Beezley was to the Babe a matter for wonder, but +she must have liked her, or she would not have gone out of her way to +seek her company. Be that as it may, the Babe would have gone a very +long way out of his way to avoid her company. He led a fine, healthy, +out-of-doors life during that week, and doubtless did himself a lot of +good. But times will occur when it is imperative that a man shall be +under the family roof. Meal-times, for instance. The Babe could not +subsist without food, and he was obliged, Miss Beezley or no Miss +Beezley, to present himself on these occasions. This, by the way, was +in the Easter holidays, so that there was no school to give him an +excuse for absence. + +Breakfast was a nightmare, lunch was rather worse, and as for dinner, +it was quite unspeakable. Miss Beezley seemed to gather force during +the day. It was not the actual presence of the lady that revolted the +Babe, for that was passable enough. It was her conversation that +killed. She refused to let the Babe alone. She was intensely learned +herself, and seemed to take a morbid delight in dissecting his +ignorance, and showing everybody the pieces. Also, she persisted in +calling him Mr MacArthur in a way that seemed somehow to point out and +emphasize his youthfulness. She added it to her remarks as a sort of +after-thought or echo. + +'Do you read Browning, Mr MacArthur?' she would say suddenly, having +apparently waited carefully until she saw that his mouth was full. + +The Babe would swallow convulsively, choke, blush, and finally say-- + +'No, not much.' + +'Ah!' This in a tone of pity not untinged with scorn. + +'When you say "not much", Mr MacArthur, what exactly do you mean? Have +you read any of his poems?' + +'Oh, yes, one or two.' + +'Ah! Have you read "Pippa Passes"?' + +'No, I think not.' + +'Surely you must know, Mr MacArthur, whether you have or not. Have you +read "Fifine at the Fair"?' + +'No.' + +'Have you read "Sordello"?' + +'No.' + +'What _have_ you read, Mr MacArthur?' + +Brought to bay in this fashion, he would have to admit that he had read +'The Pied Piper of Hamelin', and not a syllable more, and Miss Beezley +would look at him for a moment and sigh softly. The Babe's subsequent +share in the conversation, provided the Dragon made no further +onslaught, was not large. + +One never-to-be-forgotten day, shortly before the end of her visit, a +series of horrible accidents resulted in their being left to lunch +together alone. The Babe had received no previous warning, and when he +was suddenly confronted with this terrible state of affairs he almost +swooned. The lady's steady and critical inspection of his style of +carving a chicken completed his downfall. His previous experience of +carving had been limited to those entertainments which went by the name +of 'study-gorges', where, if you wanted to help a chicken, you took +hold of one leg, invited an accomplice to attach himself to the other, +and pulled. + +But, though unskilful, he was plucky and energetic. He lofted the bird +out of the dish on to the tablecloth twice in the first minute. +Stifling a mad inclination to call out 'Fore!' or something to that +effect, he laughed a hollow, mirthless laugh, and replaced the errant +fowl. When a third attack ended in the same way, Miss Beezley asked +permission to try what she could do. She tried, and in two minutes the +chicken was neatly dismembered. The Babe re-seated himself in an +over-wrought state. + +'Tell me about St Austin's, Mr MacArthur,' said Miss Beezley, as the +Babe was trying to think of something to say--not about the weather. +'Do you play football?' + +'Yes.' + +'Ah!' + +A prolonged silence. + +'Do you--' began the Babe at last. + +'Tell me--' began Miss Beezley, simultaneously. + +'I beg your pardon,' said the Babe; 'you were saying--?' + +'Not at all, Mr MacArthur. _You_ were saying--?' + +'I was only going to ask you if you played croquet?' + +'Yes; do you?' + +'No.' + +'Ah!' + +'If this is going to continue,' thought the Babe, 'I shall be +reluctantly compelled to commit suicide.' + +There was another long pause. + +'Tell me the names of some of the masters at St Austin's, Mr +MacArthur,' said Miss Beezley. She habitually spoke as if she were an +examination paper, and her manner might have seemed to some to verge +upon the autocratic, but the Babe was too thankful that the question +was not on Browning or the higher algebra to notice this. He reeled off +a list of names. + +'... Then there's Merevale--rather a decent sort--and Dacre.' + +'What sort of a man is Mr Dacre?' + +'Rather a rotter, I think.' + +'What is a rotter, Mr MacArthur?' + +'Well, I don't know how to describe it exactly. He doesn't play cricket +or anything. He's generally considered rather a crock.' + +'Really! This is very interesting, Mr MacArthur. And what is a crock? I +suppose what it comes to,' she added, as the Babe did his best to find +a definition, 'is this, that you yourself dislike him.' The Babe +admitted the impeachment. Mr Dacre had a finished gift of sarcasm which +had made him writhe on several occasions, and sarcastic masters are +rarely very popular. + +'Ah!' said Miss Beezley. She made frequent use of that monosyllable. It +generally gave the Babe the same sort of feeling as he had been +accustomed to experience in the happy days of his childhood when he had +been caught stealing jam. + +Miss Beezley went at last, and the Babe felt like a convict who has +just received a free pardon. + +One afternoon in the following term he was playing fives with +Charteris, a prefect in Merevale's House. Charteris was remarkable from +the fact that he edited and published at his own expense an unofficial +and highly personal paper, called _The Glow Worm_, which was a +great deal more in demand than the recognized School magazine, _The +Austinian_, and always paid its expenses handsomely. + +Charteris had the journalistic taint very badly. He was always the +first to get wind of any piece of School news. On this occasion he was +in possession of an exclusive item. The Babe was the first person to +whom he communicated it. + +'Have you heard the latest romance in high life, Babe?' he observed, as +they were leaving the court. 'But of course you haven't. You never do +hear anything.' + +'Well?' asked the Babe, patiently. + +'You know Dacre?' + +'I seem to have heard the name somewhere.' + +'He's going to be married.' + +'Yes. Don't trouble to try and look interested. You're one of those +offensive people who mind their own business and nobody else's. Only I +thought I'd tell you. Then you'll have a remote chance of understanding +my quips on the subject in next week's _Glow Worm_. You laddies +frae the north have to be carefully prepared for the subtler flights of +wit.' + +'Thanks,' said the Babe, placidly. 'Good-night.' + +The Headmaster intercepted the Babe a few days after he was going home +after a scratch game of football. 'MacArthur,' said he, 'you pass Mr +Dacre's House, do you not, on your way home? Then would you mind asking +him from me to take preparation tonight? I find I shall be unable to be +there.' It was the custom at St Austin's for the Head to preside at +preparation once a week; but he performed this duty, like the +celebrated Irishman, as often as he could avoid it. + +The Babe accepted the commission. He was shown into the drawing-room. +To his consternation, for he was not a society man, there appeared to +be a species of tea-party going on. As the door opened, somebody was +just finishing a remark. + +'... faculty which he displayed in such poems as "Sordello",' said the +voice. + +The Babe knew that voice. + +He would have fled if he had been able, but the servant was already +announcing him. Mr Dacre began to do the honours. + +'Mr MacArthur and I have met before,' said Miss Beezley, for it was +she. 'Curiously enough, the subject which we have just been discussing +is one in which he takes, I think, a great interest. I was saying, Mr +MacArthur, when you came in, that few of Tennyson's works show the +poetic faculty which Browning displays in "Sordello".' + +The Babe looked helplessly at Mr Dacre. + +'I think you are taking MacArthur out of his depth there,' said Mr +Dacre. 'Was there something you wanted to see me about, MacArthur?' + +The Babe delivered his message. + +'Oh, yes, certainly,' said Mr Dacre. 'Shall you be passing the School +House tonight? If so, you might give the Headmaster my compliments, and +say I shall be delighted.' + +The Babe had had no intention of going out of his way to that extent, +but the chance of escape offered by the suggestion was too good to be +missed. He went. + +On his way he called at Merevale's, and asked to see Charteris. + +'Look here, Charteris,' he said, 'you remember telling me that Dacre +was going to be married?' + +'Yes.' + +'Well, do you know her name by any chance?' + +'I ken it weel, ma braw Hielander. She is a Miss Beezley.' + +'Great Scott!' said the Babe. + +'Hullo! Why, was your young heart set in that direction? You amaze and +pain me, Babe. I think we'd better have a story on the subject in +_The Glow Worm_, with you as hero and Dacre as villain. It shall +end happily, of course. I'll write it myself.' + +'You'd better,' said the Babe, grimly. 'Oh, I say, Charteris.' + +'Well?' + +'When I come as a boarder, I shall be a House-prefect, shan't I, as I'm +in the Sixth?' + +'Yes.' + +'And prefects have to go to breakfast and supper, and that sort of +thing, pretty often with the House-beak, don't they?' + +'Such are the facts of the case.' + +'Thanks. That's all. Go away and do some work. Good-night.' + +The cup went to Merevale's that year. The Babe played a singularly +brilliant game for them. + + + + +[8] + +THE MANOEUVRES OF CHARTERIS + + + +_Chapter 1_ + +'Might I observe, sir--' + +'You may observe whatever you like,' said the referee kindly. +'Twenty-five.' + +'The rules say--' + +'I have given my decision. Twenty-_five_!' A spot of red appeared +on the official cheek. The referee, who had been heckled since the +kick-off, was beginning to be annoyed. + +'The ball went behind without bouncing, and the rules say--' + +'Twenty-FIVE!!' shouted the referee. 'I am perfectly well aware what +the rules say.' And he blew his whistle with an air of finality. The +secretary of the Bargees' F.C. subsided reluctantly, and the game was +restarted. + +The Bargees' match was a curious institution. Their real name was the +Old Crockfordians. When, a few years before, the St Austin's secretary +had received a challenge from them, dated from Stapleton, where their +secretary happened to reside, he had argued within himself as follows: +'This sounds all right. Old Crockfordians? Never heard of Crockford. +Probably some large private school somewhere. Anyhow, they're certain +to be decent fellows.' And he arranged the fixture. It then transpired +that Old Crockford was a village, and, from the appearance of the team +on the day of battle, the Old Crockfordians seemed to be composed +exclusively of the riff-raff of same. They wore green shirts with a +bright yellow leopard over the heart, and C.F.C. woven in large letters +about the chest. One or two of the outsides played in caps, and the +team to a man criticized the referee's decisions with point and +pungency. Unluckily, the first year saw a weak team of Austinians +rather badly beaten, with the result that it became a point of honour +to wipe this off the slate before the fixture could be cut out of the +card. The next year was also unlucky. The Bargees managed to score a +penalty goal in the first half, and won on that. The match resulted in +a draw in the following season, and by this time the thing had become +an annual event. + +Now, however, the School was getting some of its own back. The Bargees +had brought down a player of some reputation from the North, and were +as strong as ever in the scrum. But St Austin's had a great team, and +were carrying all before them. Charteris and Graham at half had the +ball out to their centres in a way which made Merevale, who looked +after the football of the School, feel that life was worth living. And +when once it was out, things happened rapidly. MacArthur, the captain +of the team, with Thomson as his fellow-centre, and Welch and Bannister +on the wings, did what they liked with the Bargees' three-quarters. All +the School outsides had scored, even the back, who dropped a neat goal. +The player from the North had scarcely touched the ball during the +whole game, and altogether the Bargees were becoming restless and +excited. + +The kick-off from the twenty-five line which followed upon the small +discussion alluded to above, reached Graham. Under ordinary +circumstances he would have kicked, but in a winning game original +methods often pay. He dodged a furious sportsman in green and yellow, +and went away down the touch-line. He was almost through when he +stumbled. He recovered himself, but too late. Before he could pass, +someone was on him. Graham was not heavy, and his opponent was +muscular. He was swung off his feet, and the next moment the two came +down together, Graham underneath. A sharp pain shot through his +shoulder. + +A doctor emerged from the crowd--there is always a doctor in a +crowd--and made an examination. + +'Anything bad?' asked the referee. + +'Collar-bone,' said the doctor. 'The usual, you know. Rather badly +smashed. Nothing dangerous, of course. Be all right in a month or so. +Stop his playing. Rather a pity. Much longer before half-time?' + +'No. I was just going to blow the whistle when this happened.' + +The injured warrior was carried off, and the referee blew his whistle +for half-time. + +'I say, Charteris,' said MacArthur, 'who the deuce am I to put half +instead of Graham?' + +'Rogers used to play half in his childhood, I believe. But, I say, did +you ever see such a scrag? Can't you protest, or something?' + +'My dear chap, how can I? It's on our own ground. These Bargee beasts +are visitors, if you come to think of it. I'd like to wring the chap's +neck who did it. I didn't spot who it was. Did you see?' + +'Rather. Their secretary. That man with the beard. I'll get Prescott to +mark him this half.' + +Prescott was the hardest tackler in the School. He accepted the +commission cheerfully, and promised to do his best by the bearded one. + +Charteris certainly gave him every opportunity. When he threw the ball +out of touch, he threw it neatly to the criminal with the beard, and +Prescott, who stuck to him closer than a brother, had generally tackled +him before he knew what had happened. After a time he began to grow +thoughtful, and when there was a line-out went and stood among the +three-quarters. In this way much of Charteris's righteous retribution +miscarried, but once or twice he had the pleasure and privilege of +putting in a piece of tackling on his own account. The match ended with +the enemy still intact, but considerably shaken. He was also rather +annoyed. He spoke to Charteris on the subject as they were leaving the +field. + +'I was watching you,' he said, _apropos_ of nothing apparently. + +'That must have been nice for you,' said Charteris. + +'You wait.' + +'Certainly. Any time you're passing, I'm sure--' + +'You ain't 'eard the last of me yet.' + +'That's something of a blow,' said Charteris cheerfully, and they +parted. + +Charteris, having got into his blazer, ran after Welch and MacArthur, +and walked back with them to the House. All three of them were at +Merevale's. + +'Poor old Tony,' said MacArthur. 'Where have they taken him to? The +House?' + +'Yes,' said Welch. 'I say, Babe, you ought to scratch this match next +year. Tell 'em the card's full up or something.' + +'Oh, I don't know. One expects fairly rough play in this sort of game. +After all, we tackle pretty hard ourselves. I know I always try and go +my hardest. If the man happens to be brittle, that's his lookout,' +concluded the bloodthirsty Babe. + +'My dear man,' said Charteris, 'there's all the difference between a +decent tackle and a bally scrag like the one that doubled Tony up. You +can't break a chap's collar-bone without trying to.' + +'Well, if you come to think of it, I suppose the man must have been +fairly riled. You can't expect a man to be in an angelic temper when +his side's been licked by thirty points.' + +The Babe was one of those thoroughly excellent persons who always try, +when possible, to make allowances for everybody. + +'Well, dash it,' said Charteris indignantly, 'if he had lost his hair +he might have drawn the line at falling on Tony like that. It wasn't +the tackling part of it that crocked him. The beast simply jumped on +him like a Hooligan. Anyhow, I made him sit up a bit before we +finished. I gave Prescott the tip to mark him out of touch. Have you +ever been collared by Prescott? It's a liberal education. Now, there +you are, you see. Take Prescott. He's never crocked a man seriously in +his life. I don't count being winded. That's absolutely an accident. +Well, there you are, then. Prescott weighs thirteen-ten, and he's all +muscle, and he goes like a battering-ram. You'll own that. He goes as +hard as he jolly well knows how, and yet the worst he has ever done is +to lay a man out for a couple of minutes while he gets his wind back. +Well, compare him with this Bargee man. The Bargee weighs a stone less +and isn't nearly as strong, and yet he smashes Tony's collar-bone. It's +all very well, Babe, but you can't get away from it. Prescott tackles +fairly and the Bargee scrags.' + +'Yes,' said MacArthur, 'I suppose you're right.' + +'Rather,' said Charteris. 'I wish I'd broken his neck.' + +'By the way,' said Welch, 'you were talking to him after the match. +What was he saying?' + +Charteris laughed. + +'By Jove, I'd forgotten; he said I hadn't heard the last of him, and +that I was to wait.' + +'What did you say?' + +'Oh, I behaved beautifully. I asked him to be sure and look in any time +he was passing, and after a few chatty remarks we parted.' + +'I wonder if he meant anything.' + +'I believe he means to waylay me with a buckled belt. I shan't stir out +except with the Old Man or some other competent bodyguard. "'Orrible +outrage, shocking death of a St Austin's schoolboy." It would look +rather well on the posters.' + +Welch stuck strenuously to the point. + +'No, but, look here, Charteris,' he said seriously, 'I'm not rotting. +You see, the man lives in Stapleton, and if he knows anything of School +rules--' + +'Which he doesn't probably. Why should he? Well?'--'If he knows +anything of the rules, he'll know that Stapleton's out of bounds, and +he may book you there and run you in to Merevale.' + +'Yes,' said MacArthur. 'I tell you what, you'd do well to knock off a +few of your expeditions to Stapleton. You know you wouldn't go there +once a month if it wasn't out of bounds. You'll be a prefect next term. +I should wait till then, if I were you.' + +'My dear chap, what does it matter? The worst that can happen to you +for breaking bounds is a couple of hundred lines, and I've got a +capital of four hundred already in stock. Besides, things would be so +slow if you always kept in bounds. I always feel like a cross between +Dick Turpin and Machiavelli when I go to Stapleton. It's an awfully +jolly feeling. Like warm treacle running down your back. It's cheap at +two hundred lines.' + +'You're an awful fool,' said Welch, rudely but correctly. + +Welch was a youth who treated the affairs of other people rather too +seriously. He worried over them. This is not a particularly common +trait in the character of either boy or man, but Welch had it highly +developed. He could not probably have explained exactly why he was +worried, but he undoubtedly was. Welch had a very grave and serious +mind. He shared a study with Charteris--for Charteris, though not yet a +School-prefect, was part owner of a study--and close observation had +convinced him that the latter was not responsible for his actions, and +that he wanted somebody to look after him. He had therefore elected +himself to the post of a species of modified and unofficial guardian +angel to him. The duties were heavy, and the remuneration exceedingly +light. + +'Really, you know,' said MacArthur, 'I don't see what the point of all +your lunacy is. I don't know if you're aware of it, but the Old Man's +getting jolly sick with you.' + +'I didn't know,' said Charteris, 'but I'm very glad to hear it. For +hist! I have a ger-rudge against the person. Beneath my ban that mystic +man shall suffer, _coute que coute_, Matilda. He sat upon +me--publicly, and the resultant blot on my scutcheon can only be wiped +out with blood, or broken rules,' he added. + +This was true. To listen to Charteris on the subject, one might have +thought that he considered the matter rather amusing than otherwise. +This, however, was simply due to the fact that he treated everything +flippantly in conversation. But, like the parrot, he thought the more. +The actual _casus belli_ had been trivial. At least the mere +spectator would have considered it trivial. It had happened after this +fashion. Charteris was a member of the School corps. The orderly-room +of the School corps was in the junior part of the School buildings. +Charteris had been to replace his rifle in that shrine of Mars after a +mid-day drill, and on coming out into the passage had found himself in +the middle of a junior school 'rag' of the conventional type. +Somebody's cap had fallen off, and two hastily picked teams were +playing football with it (Association rules). Now, Charteris was not a +prefect (that, it may be observed in passing, was another source of +bitterness in him towards the Powers, for he was fairly high up in the +Sixth, and others of his set, Welch, Thomson, and Tony Graham, who were +also in the Sixth--the two last below him in form order--had already +received their prefects' caps). Not being a prefect, it would have been +officious in him to have stopped the game. So he was passing on with +what Mr Hurry Bungsho Jabberjee, B.A., would have termed a beaming +simper of indescribable suavity, when a member of one of the opposing +teams, in effecting a G. O. Smithian dribble, cannoned into him. To +preserve his balance--this will probably seem a very thin line of +defence, but 'I state but the facts'--he grabbed at the disciple of +Smith amidst applause, and at that precise moment a new actor appeared +on the scene--the Headmaster. Now, of all the things that lay in his +province, the Headmaster most disliked to see a senior 'ragging' with a +junior. He had a great idea of the dignity of the senior school, and +did all that in him lay to see that it was kept up. The greater number +of the juniors with whom the senior was found ragging, the more heinous +the offence. Circumstantial evidence was dead against Charteris. To all +outward appearances he was one of the players in the impromptu football +match. The soft and fascinating beams of the simper, to quote Mr +Jabberjee once more, had not yet faded from the act. A well-chosen word +or two from the Headmagisterial lips put a premature end to the +football match, and Charteris was proceeding on his way when the +Headmaster called him. He stopped. The Headmaster was angry. So angry, +indeed, that he did what in a more lucid interval he would not have +done. He hauled a senior over the coals in the hearing of a number of +juniors, one of whom (unidentified) giggled loudly. As Charteris had on +previous occasions observed, the Old Man, when he did start to take a +person's measure, didn't leave out much. The address was not long, but +it covered a great deal of ground. The section of it which chiefly +rankled in Charteris's mind, and which had continued to rankle ever +since, was that in which the use of the word 'buffoon' had occurred. +Everybody who has a gift of humour and (very naturally) enjoys +exercising it, hates to be called a buffoon. It was Charteris's one +weak spot. Every other abusive epithet in the language slid off him +without penetrating or causing him the least discomfort. The word +'buffoon' went home, right up to the hilt. And, to borrow from Mr +Jabberjee for positively the very last time, he had observed +(mentally): 'Henceforward I will perpetrate heaps of the lowest dregs +of vice.' He had, in fact, started a perfect bout of breaking rules, +simply because they were rules. The injustice of the thing rankled. No +one so dislikes being punished unjustly as the person who might have +been punished justly on scores of previous occasions, if he had only +been found out. To a certain extent, Charteris ran amok. He broke +bounds and did little work, and--he was beginning gradually to find +this out--got thoroughly tired of it all. Offended dignity, however, +still kept him at it, and much as he would have preferred to have +resumed a less feverish type of existence, he did not do so. + +'I have a ger-rudge against the man,' he said. + +'You _are_ an idiot, really,' said Welch. + +'Welch,' said Charteris, by way of explanation to MacArthur, 'is a lad +of coarse fibre. He doesn't understand the finer feelings. He can't see +that I am doing this simply for the Old Man's good. Spare the rod, +spile the choild. Let's go and have a look at Tony when we're changed. +He'll be in the sick-room if he's anywhere.' + +'All right,' said the Babe, as he went into his study. 'Buck up. I'll +toss you for first bath in a second.' + +Charteris walked on with Welch to their sanctum. + +'You know,' said Welch seriously, stooping to unlace his boots, +'rotting apart, you really are a most awful ass. I wish I could get you +to see it.' + +'Never you mind, ducky,' said Charteris, 'I'm all right. I'll look +after myself.' + + + +_Chapter 2_ + +It was about a week after the Bargees' match that the rules respecting +bounds were made stricter, much to the popular indignation. The penalty +for visiting Stapleton without leave was increased from two hundred +lines to two extra lessons. The venomous characteristic of extra lesson +was that it cut into one's football, for the criminal was turned into a +form-room from two till four on half-holidays, and so had to scratch +all athletic engagements for the day, unless he chose to go for a +solitary run afterwards. In the cricket term the effect of this was not +so deadly. It was just possible that you might get an innings somewhere +after four o'clock, even if only at the nets. But during the football +season--it was now February--to be in extra lesson meant a total loss +of everything that makes life endurable, and the School protested (to +one another, in the privacy of their studies) with no uncertain voice +against this barbarous innovation. + +The reason for the change had been simple. At the corner of the High +Street at Stapleton was a tobacconist's shop, and Mr Prater, strolling +in one evening to renew his stock of Pioneer, was interested to observe +P. St H. Harrison, of Merevale's, purchasing a consignment of 'Girl of +my Heart' cigarettes (at twopence-halfpenny the packet of twenty, +including a coloured picture of Lord Kitchener). Now, Mr Prater was one +of the most sportsmanlike of masters. If he had merely met Harrison out +of bounds, and it had been possible to have overlooked him, he would +have done so. But such a proceeding in the interior of a small shop was +impossible. There was nothing to palliate the crime. The tobacconist +also kept the wolf from the door, and lured the juvenile population of +the neighbourhood to it, by selling various weird brands of sweets, but +it was only too obvious that Harrison was not after these. Guilt was in +his eye, and the packet of cigarettes in his hand. Also Harrison's +House cap was fixed firmly at the back of his head. Mr Prater finished +buying his Pioneer, and went out without a word. That night it was +announced to Harrison that the Headmaster wished to see him. The +Headmaster saw him, though for a certain period of the interview he did +not see the Headmaster, having turned his back on him by request. On +the following day Stapleton was placed doubly out of bounds. + +Tony, who was still in bed, had not heard the news when Charteris came +to see him on the evening of the day on which the edict had gone forth. + +'How are you getting on?' asked Charteris. + +'Oh, fairly well. It's rather slow.' + +'The grub seems all right.' Charteris absently reached out for a slice +of cake. + +'Not bad.' + +'And you don't have to do any work.' + +'No.' + +'Well, then, it seems to me you're having a jolly good time. What don't +you like about it?' + +'It's so slow, being alone all day.' + +'Makes you appreciate intellectual conversation all the more when you +get it. Mine, for instance.' + +'I want something to read.' + +'I'll bring you a Sidgwick's _Greek Prose Composition_, if you +like. Full of racy stories.' + +'I've read 'em, thanks.' + +'How about Jebb's _Homer_? You'd like that. Awfully interesting. +Proves that there never was such a man as Homer, you know, and that the +_Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ were produced by evolution. General +style, quietly funny. Make you roar.' + +'Don't be an idiot. I'm simply starving for something to read. Haven't +you got anything?' + +'You've read all mine.' + +'Hasn't Welch got any books?' + +'Not one. He bags mine when he wants to read. I'll tell you what I will +do if you like.' + +'What?' + +'Go into Stapleton, and borrow something from Adamson.' Adamson was the +College doctor. + +'By Jove, that's not a bad idea.' + +'It's a dashed good idea, which wouldn't have occurred to anybody but a +genius. I've been quite a pal of Adamson's ever since I had the flu. I +go to tea with him occasionally, and we talk medical shop. Have you +ever tried talking medical shop during tea? Nothing like it for giving +you an appetite.' + +'Has he got anything readable?' + +'Rather. Have you ever tried anything of James Payn's?' + +'I've read _Terminations_, or something,' said Tony doubtfully, +'but he's so obscure.' + +'Don't,' said Charteris sadly, 'please don't. _Terminations_ is by +one Henry James, and there is a substantial difference between him and +James Payn. Anyhow, if you want a short biography of James Payn, he +wrote a hundred books, and they're all simply ripping, and Adamson has +got a good many of them, and I'm hoping to borrow a couple--any two +will do--and you're going to read them. I know one always bars a book +that's recommended to one, but you've got no choice. You're not going +to get anything else till you've finished those two.' + +'All right,' said Tony. 'But Stapleton's out of bounds. I suppose +Merevale'll give you leave to go in.' + +'He won't,' said Charteris. 'I shan't ask him. On principle. So long.' + +On the following afternoon Charteris went into Stapleton. The distance +by road was almost exactly one mile. If you went by the fields it was +longer, because you probably lost your way. + +Dr Adamson's house was in the High Street. Charteris knocked at the +door. The servant was sorry, but the doctor was out. Her tone seemed to +suggest that, if she had had any say in the matter, he would have +remained in. Would Charteris come in and wait? Charteris rather thought +he would. He waited for half an hour, and then, as the absent medico +did not appear to be coming, took two books from the shelf, wrote a +succinct note explaining what he had done, and why he had done it, +hoping the doctor would not mind, and went out with his literary +trophies into the High Street again. + +The time was now close on five o'clock. Lock-up was not till a quarter +past six--six o'clock nominally, but the doors were always left open +till a quarter past. It would take him about fifteen minutes to get +back, less if he trotted. Obviously, the thing to do here was to spend +a thoughtful quarter of an hour or so inspecting the sights of the +town. These were ordinarily not numerous, but this particular day +happened to be market day, and there was a good deal going on. The High +Street was full of farmers, cows, and other animals, the majority of +the former well on the road to intoxication. It is, of course, +extremely painful to see a man in such a condition, but when such a +person is endeavouring to count a perpetually moving drove of pigs, the +onlooker's pain is sensibly diminished. Charteris strolled along the +High Street observing these and other phenomena with an attentive eye. +Opposite the Town Hall he was button-holed by a perfect stranger, whom, +by his conversation, he soon recognized as the Stapleton 'character'. +There is a 'character' in every small country town. He is not a bad +character; still less is he a good character. He is just a 'character' +pure and simple. This particular man--or rather, this man, for he was +anything but particular--apparently took a great fancy to Charteris at +first sight. He backed him gently against a wall, and insisted on +telling him an interminable anecdote of his shady past, when, it +seemed, he had been a 'super' in some travelling company. The plot of +the story, as far as Charteris could follow it, dealt with a theatrical +tour in Dublin, where some person or persons unknown had, with malice +prepense, scattered several pounds of snuff on the stage previous to a +performance of _Hamlet_; and, according to the 'character', when +the ghost of Hamlet's father sneezed steadily throughout his great +scene, there was not a dry eye in the house. The 'character' had +concluded that anecdote, and was half-way through another, when +Charteris, looking at his watch, found that it was almost six o'clock. +He interrupted one of the 'character's' periods by diving past him and +moving rapidly down the street. The historian did not seem to object. +Charteris looked round and saw that he had button-holed a fresh victim. +He was still gazing in one direction and walking in another, when he +ran into somebody. + +'Sorry,' said Charteris hastily. 'Hullo!' + +It was the secretary of the Old Crockfordians, and, to judge from the +scowl on that gentleman's face, the recognition was mutual. + +'It's you, is it?' said the secretary in his polished way. + +'I believe so,' said Charteris. + +'Out of bounds,' observed the man. + +Charteris was surprised. This grasp of technical lore on the part of a +total outsider was as unexpected as it was gratifying. + +'What do you know about bounds?' said Charteris. + +'I know you ain't allowed to come 'ere, and you'll get it 'ot from your +master for coming.' + +'Ah, but he won't know. I shan't tell him, and I'm sure you will +respect my secret.' + +Charteris smiled in a winning manner. + +'Ho!' said the man, 'Ho indeed!' + +There is something very clinching about the word 'Ho'. It seems +definitely to apply the closure to any argument. At least, I have never +yet met anyone who could tell me the suitable repartee. + +'Well,' said Charteris affably, 'don't let me keep you. I must be going +on.' + +'Ho!' observed the man once more. 'Ho indeed!' + +'That's a wonderfully shrewd remark,' said Charteris. 'I can see that, +but I wish you'd tell me exactly what it means.' + +'You're out of bounds.' + +'Your mind seems to run in a groove. You can't get off that bounds +business. How do you know Stapleton's out of bounds?' + +'I have made enquiries,' said the man darkly. + +'By Jove,' said Charteris delightedly, 'this is splendid. You're a +regular sleuth-hound. I dare say you've found out my name and House +too?' + +'I may 'ave,' said the man, 'or I may not 'ave.' + +'Well, now you mention it, I suppose one of the two contingencies is +probable. Well, I'm awfully glad to have met you. Good-bye. I must be +going.' + +'You're goin' with me.' + +'Arm in arm?' + +'I don't want to _'ave_ to take you.' + +'No,' said Charteris, 'I should jolly well advise you not to try. This +is my way.' + +He walked on till he came to the road that led to St Austin's. The +secretary of the Old Crockfordians stalked beside him with determined +stride. + +'Now,' said Charteris, when they were on the road, 'you mustn't mind if +I walk rather fast. I'm in a hurry.' + +Charteris's idea of walking rather fast was to dash off down the road +at quarter-mile pace. The move took the man by surprise, but, after a +moment, he followed with much panting. It was evident that he was not +in training. Charteris began to feel that the walk home might be +amusing in its way. After they had raced some three hundred yards he +slowed down to a walk again. It was at this point that his companion +evinced a desire to do the rest of the journey with a hand on the +collar of his coat. + +'If you touch me,' observed Charteris with a surprising knowledge of +legal _minutiae_, 'it'll be a technical assault, and you'll get +run in; and you'll get beans anyway if you try it on.' + +The man reconsidered matters, and elected not to try it on. + +Half a mile from the College Charteris began to walk rather fast again. +He was a good half-miler, and his companion was bad at every distance. +After a game struggle he dropped to the rear, and finished a hundred +yards behind in considerable straits. Charteris shot in at Merevale's +door with five minutes to spare, and went up to his study to worry +Welch by telling him about it. + +'Welch, you remember the Bargee who scragged Tony? Well, there have +been all sorts of fresh developments. He's just been pacing me all the +way from Stapleton.' + +'Stapleton! Have you been to Stapleton? Did Merevale give you leave?' + +'No. I didn't ask him.' + +'You _are_ an idiot. And now this Bargee man will go straight to +the Old Man and run you in. I wonder you didn't think of that.' + +'Curious I didn't.' + +'I suppose he saw you come in here?' + +'Rather. He couldn't have had a better view if he'd paid for a seat. +Half a second; I must just run up with these volumes to Tony.' + +When he came back he found Welch more serious than ever. + +'I told you so,' said Welch. 'You're to go to the Old Man at once. He's +just sent over for you. I say, look here, if it's only lines I don't +mind doing some of them, if you like.' + +Charteris was quite touched by this sporting offer. + +'It's awfully good of you,' he said, 'but it doesn't matter, really. I +shall be all right.' + +Ten minutes later he returned, beaming. + +'Well,' said Welch, 'what's he given you?' + +'Only his love, to give to you. It was this way. He first asked me if I +wasn't perfectly aware that Stapleton was out of bounds. "Sir," says I, +"I've known it from childhood's earliest hour." "Ah," says he to me, +"did Mr Merevale give you leave to go in this afternoon?" "No," says I, +"I never consulted the gent you mention."' + +'Well?' + +'Then he ragged me for ten minutes, and finally told me I must go into +extra the next two Saturdays.' + +'I thought so.' + +'Ah, but mark the sequel. When he had finished, I said that I was sorry +I had mistaken the rules, but I had thought that a chap was allowed to +go into Stapleton if he got leave from a master. "But you said that Mr +Merevale did not give you leave," said he. "Friend of my youth," I +replied courteously, "you are perfectly correct. As always. Mr Merevale +did not give me leave, but," I added suavely, "Mr Dacre did." And I +came away, chanting hymns of triumph in a mellow baritone, and leaving +him in a dead faint on the sofa. And the Bargee, who was present during +the conflict, swiftly and silently vanished away, his morale +considerably shattered. And that, my gentle Welch,' concluded Charteris +cheerfully, 'put me one up. So pass the biscuits, and let us rejoice if +we never rejoice again.' + + + +_Chapter 3_ + +The Easter term was nearing its end. Football, with the exception of +the final House-match, which had still to come off, was over, and life +was in consequence a trifle less exhilarating than it might have been. +In some ways the last few weeks before the Easter holidays are quite +pleasant. You can put on running shorts and a blazer and potter about +the grounds, feeling strong and athletic, and delude yourself into the +notion that you are training for the sports. Ten minutes at the broad +jump, five with the weight, a few sprints on the track--it is all very +amusing and harmless, but it is apt to become monotonous after a time. +And if the weather is at all inclined to be chilly, such an occupation +becomes impossible. + +Charteris found things particularly dull. He was a fair average runner, +but there were others far better at every distance, so that he saw no +use in mortifying the flesh with strict training. On the other hand, in +view of the fact that the final House-match had yet to be played, and +that Merevale's was one of the two teams that were going to play it, it +behoved him to keep himself at least moderately fit. The genial muffin +and the cheery crumpet were still things to be avoided. He thus found +himself in a position where, apparently, the few things which it was +possible for him to do were barred, and the net result was that he felt +slightly dull. + +To make matters worse, all the rest of his set were working full time +at their various employments, and had no leisure for amusing him. Welch +practised hundred-yard sprints daily, and imagined that it would be +quite a treat for Charteris to be allowed to time him. So he gave him +the stopwatch, saw him safely to the end of the track, and at a given +signal dashed off in the approved American style. By the time he +reached the tape, dutifully held by two sporting Merevalian juniors, +Charteris's attention had generally been attracted elsewhere. 'What +time?' Welch would pant. 'By Jove,' Charteris would observe blandly, 'I +forgot to look. About a minute and a quarter, I fancy.' At which Welch, +who always had a notion that he had done it in ten and a fifth +_that_ time, at any rate, would dissemble his joy, and mildly +suggest that somebody else should hold the watch. Then there was Jim +Thomson, generally a perfect mine of elevating conversation. He was in +for the mile and also the half, and refused to talk about anything +except those distances, and the best methods for running them in the +minimum of time. Charteris began to feel a blue melancholy stealing +over him. The Babe, again. He might have helped to while away the long +hours, but unfortunately the Babe had been taken very bad with a notion +that he was going to win the 'cross-country run, and when, in addition +to this, he was seized with a panic with regard to the prospects of the +House team in the final, and began to throw out hints concerning strict +training, Charteris regarded him as a person to be avoided. If he fled +to the Babe for sympathy now, the Babe would be just as likely as not +to suggest that he should come for a ten-mile spin with him, to get him +into condition for the final Houser. The very thought of a ten-mile +spin made Charteris feel faint. Lastly, there was Tony. But Tony's +company was worse than none at all. He went about with his arm in a +sling, and declined to be comforted. But for his injury, he would by +now have been training hard for the Aldershot Boxing Competition, and +the fact that he was now definitely out of it had a very depressing +effect upon him. He lounged moodily about the gymnasium, watching +Menzies, who was to take his place, sparring with the instructor, and +refused consolation. Altogether, Charteris found life a distinct bore. + +He was reduced to such straits for amusement, that one Wednesday +afternoon, finding himself with nothing else to do, he was working at a +burlesque and remarkably scurrilous article on 'The Staff, by one who +has suffered', which he was going to insert in _The Glow Worm_, an +unofficial periodical which he had started for the amusement of the +School and his own and his contributors' profit. He was just warming to +his work, and beginning to enjoy himself, when the door opened without +a preliminary knock. Charteris deftly slid a piece of blotting-paper +over his MS., for Merevale occasionally entered a study in this manner. +And though there was nothing about Merevale himself in the article, it +would be better perhaps, thought Charteris, if he did not see it. But +it was not Merevale. It was somebody far worse. The Babe. + +The Babe was clothed as to his body in football clothes, and as to +face, in a look of holy enthusiasm. Charteris knew what that look +meant. It meant that the Babe was going to try and drag him out for a +run. + +'Go away, Babe,' he said, 'I'm busy.' + +'Why on earth are you slacking in here on this ripping afternoon?' + +'Slacking!' said Charteris. 'I like that. I'm doing berrain work, Babe. +I'm writing an article on masters and their customs, which will cause a +profound sensation in the Common Room. At least it would, if they ever +saw it, but they won't. Or I hope they won't for their sake _and_ +mine. So run away, my precious Babe, and don't disturb your uncle when +he's busy.' + +'Rot,' said the Babe firmly, 'you haven't taken any exercise for a +week.' + +Charteris replied proudly that he had wound up his watch only last +night. The Babe refused to accept the remark as relevant to the matter +in hand. + +'Look here, Alderman,' he said, sitting down on the table, and gazing +sternly at his victim, 'it's all very well, you know, but the final +comes on in a few days, and you know you aren't in any too good +training.' + +'I am,' said Charteris, 'I'm as fit as a prize fighter. Simply full of +beans. Feel my ribs.' + +The Babe declined the offer. + +'No, but I say,' he said plaintively, 'I wish you'd treat it seriously. +It's getting jolly serious, really. If Dacre's win that cup again this +year, that'll make four years running.' + +'Not so,' said Charteris, like the mariner of +infinite-resource-and-sagacity; 'not so, but far otherwise. It'll only +make three.' + +'Well, three's bad enough.' + +'True, oh king, three is quite bad enough.' + +'Well, then, there you are. Now you see.' + +Charteris looked puzzled. + +'Would you mind explaining that remark?' he said. 'Slowly.' + +But the Babe had got off the table, and was prowling round the room, +opening cupboards and boxes. + +'What are you playing at?' enquired Charteris. + +'Where do you keep your footer things?' + +'What do you want with my footer things, if you don't mind my asking?' + +'I'm going to help you put them on, and then you're coming for a run.' + +'Ah,' said Charteris. + +'Yes. Just a gentle spin to keep you in training. Hullo, this looks +like them.' + +He plunged both hands into a box near the window and flung out a mass +of football clothes. It reminded Charteris of a terrier digging at a +rabbit-hole. + +He protested. + +'Don't, Babe. Treat 'em tenderly. You'll be spoiling the crease in +those bags if you heave 'em about like that. I'm very particular about +how I look on the football field. _I_ was always taught to dress +myself like a little gentleman, so to speak. Well, now you've seen +them, put 'em away.' + +'Put 'em on,' said the Babe firmly. + +'You are a beast, Babe. I don't want to go for a run. I'm getting too +old for violent exercise.' + +'Buck up,' said the Babe. 'We mustn't chuck any chances away. Now that +Tony can't play, we shall have to do all we know if we want to win.' + +'I don't see what need there is to get nervous about it. Considering +we've got three of the First three-quarter line, and the Second Fifteen +back, we ought to do pretty well.' + +'But look at Dacre's scrum. There's Prescott, to start with. He's worth +any two of our men put together. Then they've got Carter, Smith, and +Hemming out of the first, and Reeve-Jones out of the second. And their +outsides aren't so very bad, if you come to think of it. Bannister's in +the first, and the other three-quarters are all good. And they've got +both the second halves. You'll have practically to look after both of +them now that Tony's crocked. And Baddeley has come on a lot this +term.' + +'Babe,' said Charteris, 'you have reason. I will turn over a new leaf. +I _will_ be good. Give me my things and I'll come for a run. Only +please don't let it be anything over twenty miles.' + +'Good man,' said the gratified Babe. 'We won't go far, and will take it +quite easy.' + +'I tell you what,' said Charteris. 'Do you know a place called Worbury? +I thought you wouldn't, probably. It's only a sort of hamlet, two +cottages, three public-houses, and a duck-pond, and that sort of thing. +I only know it because Welch and I ran there once last year. It's in +the Badgwick direction, about three miles by road, mostly along the +level. I vote we muffle up fairly well, blazers and sweaters and so on, +run to Worbury, tea at one of the cottages, and back in time for +lock-up. How does that strike you?' + +'It sounds all right. How about tea though? Are you certain you can get +it?' + +'Rather. The Oldest Inhabitant is quite a pal of mine.' + +Charteris's circle of acquaintances was a standing wonder to the Babe +and other Merevalians. He seemed to know everybody in the county. + +When once he was fairly started on any business, physical or mental, +Charteris generally shaped well. It was the starting that he found the +difficulty. Now that he was actually in motion, he was enjoying himself +thoroughly. He wondered why on earth he had been so reluctant to come +for this run. The knowledge that there were three miles to go, and that +he was equal to them, made him feel a new man. He felt fit. And there +is nothing like feeling fit for dispelling boredom. He swung along with +the Babe at a steady pace. + +'There's the cottage,' he said, as they turned a bend of the road, and +Worbury appeared a couple of hundred yards away. 'Let's sprint.' They +sprinted, and arrived at the door of the cottage with scarcely a yard +between them, much to the admiration of the Oldest Inhabitant, who was +smoking a thoughtful pipe in his front garden. Mrs Oldest Inhabitant +came out of the cottage at the sound of voices, and Charteris broached +the subject of tea. The menu was sumptuous and varied, and even the +Babe, in spite of his devotion to strict training, could scarce forbear +to smile happily at the mention of hot cakes. + +During the _mauvais quart d'heure_ before the meal, Charteris kept +up an animated conversation with the Oldest Inhabitant, the Babe +joining in from time to time when he could think of anything to say. +Charteris appeared to be quite a friend of the family. He enquired +after the Oldest Inhabitant's rheumatics. It was gratifying to find +that they were distinctly better. How had Mrs O. I. been since his last +visit? Prarper hearty? Excellent. How was the O. I.'s nevvy? + +At the mention of his nevvy the O. I. became discursive. He told his +audience everything that had happened in connection with the said nevvy +for years back. After which he started to describe what he would +probably do in the future. Amongst other things, there were going to be +some sports at Rutton today week, and his nevvy was going to try and +win the cup for what the Oldest Inhabitant vaguely described as 'a +race'. He had won it last year. Yes, prarper good runner, his nevvy. +Where was Rutton? the Babe wanted to know. About eight miles out of +Stapleton, said Charteris, who was well up in local geography. You got +there by train. It was the next station. + +Mrs O. I. came out to say that tea was ready, and, being drawn into the +conversation on the subject of the Rutton sports, produced a programme +of the same, which her nevvy had sent them. From this it seemed that +the nevvy's 'spot' event was the egg and spoon race. An asterisk +against his name pointed him out as the last year's winner. + +'Hullo,' said Charteris, 'I see there's a strangers' mile. I'm a demon +at the mile when I'm roused. I think I shall go in for it.' + +He handed the programme back and began his tea. + +'You know, Babe,' he said, as they were going back that evening, 'I +really think I shall go in for that race. It would be a most awful rag. +It's the day before the House-match, so it'll just get me fit.' + +'Don't be a fool,' said the Babe. 'There would be a fearful row about +it if you were found out. You'd get extras for the rest of your life.' + +'Well, the final Houser comes off on a Thursday, so it won't affect +that.' + +'Yes, but still--' + +'I shall think about it,' said Charteris. 'You needn't go telling +anyone.' + +'If you'll take my advice, you'll drop it.' + +'Your suggestion has been noted, and will receive due attention,' said +Charteris. 'Put on the pace a bit.' + +They lengthened their stride, and conversation came to an abrupt end. + + + +_Chapter 4_ + +'I shall go, Babe,' said Charteris on the following night. + +The Sixth Form had a slack day before them on the morrow, there being a +temporary lull in the form-work which occurred about once a week, when +there was no composition of any kind to be done. The Sixth did four +compositions a week, two Greek and two Latin, and except for these did +not bother themselves very much about overnight preparation. The Latin +authors which the form were doing were Livy and Virgil, and when either +of these were on the next day's programme, most of the Sixth considered +that they were justified in taking a night off. They relied on their +ability to translate both authors at sight and without previous +acquaintance. The popular notion that Virgil is hard rarely appeals to +a member of a public school. There are two ways of translating Virgil, +the conscientious and the other. He prefers the other. + +On this particular night, therefore, work was 'off'. Merevale was over +at the Great Hall, taking preparation, and the Sixth-Form Merevalians +had assembled in Charteris's study to talk about things in general. It +was after a pause of some moments, that had followed upon a lively +discussion of the House's prospects in the forthcoming final, that +Charteris had spoken. + +'I shall go, Babe,' said he. + +'Go where?' asked Tony, from the depths of a deck-chair. + +'Babe knows.' + +The Babe turned to the company and explained. + +'The lunatic's going in for the strangers' mile at some sports at +Rutton next week. He'll get booked for a cert. He can't see that. I +never saw such a man.' + +'Rally round,' said Charteris, 'and reason with me. I'll listen. Tony, +what do you think about it?' + +Tony expressed his opinion tersely, and Charteris thanked him. Welch, +who had been reading, now awoke to the fact that a discussion was in +progress, and asked for details. The Babe explained once more, and +Welch heartily corroborated Tony's remarks. Charteris thanked him too. + +'You aren't really going, are you?' asked Welch. + +'Rather,' said Charteris. + +'The Old Man won't give you leave.' + +'Shan't worry the poor man with such trifles.' + +'But it's miles out of bounds. Stapleton station is out of bounds to +start with. It's against rules to go in a train, and Rutton's even more +out of bounds than Stapleton.' + +'And as there are sports there,' said Tony, 'the Old Man is certain to +put Rutton specially out of bounds for that day. He always bars a St +Austin's chap going to a place when there's anything going on there.' + +'I don't care. What have I to do with the Old Man's petty prejudices? +Now, let me get at my time-table. Here we are. Now then.' + +'Don't be a fool,' said Tony, + +'Certainly not. Look here, there's a train starts from Stapleton at +three. I can catch that all right. Gets to Rutton at three-twenty. +Sports begin at three-fifteen. At least, they are supposed to. Over +before five, I should think. At least, my race will be, though I must +stop to see the Oldest Inhabitant's nevvy win the egg and spoon canter. +But that ought to come on before the strangers' race. Train back at a +quarter past five. Arrives at a quarter to six. Lock up six-fifteen. +That gives me half an hour to get here from Stapleton. What more do you +want? I shall do it easily, and ... the odds against my being booked +are about twenty-five to one. At which price if any gent present cares +to deposit his money, I am willing to take him. Now I'll treat you to a +tune, if you're good.' + +He went to the cupboard and produced his gramophone. Charteris's +musical instruments had at one time been strictly suppressed by the +authorities, and, in consequence, he had laid in a considerable stock +of them. At last, when he discovered that there was no rule against the +use of musical instruments in the House, Merevale had yielded. The +stipulation that Charteris should play only before prep. was rigidly +observed, except when Merevale was over at the Hall, and the Sixth had +no work. On such occasions Charteris felt justified in breaking through +the rule. He had a gramophone, a banjo, a penny whistle, and a mouth +organ. The banjo, which he played really well, was the most in request, +but the gramophone was also popular. + +'Turn on "Whistling Rufus",' observed Thomson. + +'Whistling Rufus' was duly turned on, giving way after an encore to +'Bluebells'. + +'I always weep when I hear this,' said Tony. + +'It _is_ beautiful, isn't it?' said Charteris. + + I'll be your sweetheart, if you--will be--mine, + All my life, I'll be your valentine. + Bluebells I've gathered--grrhhrh. + +The needle of the gramophone, after the manner of its kind, slipped +raspingly over the surface of the wax, and the rest of the ballad was +lost. + +'That,' said Charteris, 'is how I feel with regard to the Old Man. I'd +be his sweetheart, if he'd be mine. But he makes no advances, and the +stain on my scutcheon is not yet wiped out. I must say I haven't tried +gathering bluebells for him yet, nor have I offered my services as a +perpetual valentine, but I've been very kind to him in other ways.' + +'Is he still down on you?' asked the Babe. + +'He hasn't done much lately. We're in a state of truce at present. Did +I tell you how I scored about Stapleton?' + +'You've only told us about a hundred times,' said the Babe brutally. 'I +tell you what, though, he'll score off you if he finds you going to +Rutton.' + +'Let's hope he won't.' + +'He won't,' said Welch suddenly. + +'Why?' + +'Because you won't go. I'll bet you anything you like that you won't +go.' + +That settled Charteris. It was the sort of remark that always acted on +him like a tonic. He had been intending to go all the time, but it was +this speech of Welch's that definitely clinched the matter. One of his +mottoes for everyday use was 'Let not thyself be scored off by Welch.' + +'That's all right,' he said. 'Of course I shall go. What's the next +item you'd like on this machine?' + +The day of the sports arrived, and the Babe, meeting Charteris at +Merevale's gate, made a last attempt to head him off from his purpose. + +'How are you going to take your things?' he asked. 'You can't carry a +bag. The first beak you met would ask questions.' + +If he had hoped that this would be a crushing argument, he was +disappointed. + +Charteris patted a bloated coat pocket. + +'Bags,' he said laconically. 'Vest,' he added, doing the same to his +other pocket. 'Shoes,' he concluded, 'you will observe I am carrying in +a handy brown paper parcel, and if anybody wants to know what's in it, +I shall tell them it's acid drops. Sure you won't come, too?' + +'Quite, thanks.' + +'All right. So long then. Be good while I'm gone.' + +And he passed on down the road that led to Stapleton. + +The Rutton Recreation Ground presented, as the _Stapleton Herald_ +justly remarked in its next week's issue, 'a gay and animated +appearance'. There was a larger crowd than Charteris had expected. He +made his way through them, resisting without difficulty the entreaties +of a hoarse gentleman in a check suit to have three to two on 'Enery +something for the hundred yards, and came at last to the dressing-tent. + +At this point it occurred to him that it would be judicious to find out +when his race was to start. It was rather a chilly day, and the less +time he spent in the undress uniform of shorts the better. He bought a +correct card for twopence, and scanned it. The strangers' mile was down +for four-fifty. There was no need to change for an hour yet. He wished +the authorities could have managed to date the event earlier. + +Four-fifty was running it rather fine. The race would be over by about +five to five, and it was a walk of some ten minutes to the station, +less if he hurried. That would give him ten minutes for recovering from +the effects of the race, and changing back into his ordinary clothes +again. It would be quick work. But, having come so far, he was not +inclined to go back without running in the race. He would never be able +to hold his head up again if he did that. He left the dressing-tent, +and started on a tour of the field. + +The scene was quite different from anything he had ever witnessed +before in the way of sports. The sports at St Austin's were decorous to +a degree. These leaned more to the rollickingly convivial. It was like +an ordinary race-meeting, except that men were running instead of +horses. Rutton was a quiet little place for the majority of the year, +but it woke up on this day, and was evidently out to enjoy itself. The +Rural Hooligan was a good deal in evidence, and though he was +comparatively quiet just at present, the frequency with which he +visited the various refreshment stalls that dotted the ground gave +promise of livelier times in the future. Charteris felt that the +afternoon would not be dull. + +The hour soon passed, and Charteris, having first seen the Oldest +Inhabitant's nevvy romp home in the egg and spoon event, took himself +off to the dressing-tent, and began to get into his running clothes. +The bell for his race was just ringing when he left the tent. He +trotted over to the starting place. + +Apparently there was not a very large 'field'. Two weedy-looking youths +of about Charteris's age, dressed in blushing pink, put in an +appearance, and a very tall, thin man came up almost immediately +afterwards. Charteris had just removed his coat, and was about to get +to his place on the line, when another competitor arrived, and, to +judge by the applause that greeted his appearance, he was evidently a +favourite in the locality. It was with shock that Charteris recognized +his old acquaintance, the Bargees' secretary. + +He was clad in running clothes of a bright orange and a smile of +conscious superiority, and when somebody in the crowd called out 'Go +it, Jarge!' he accepted the tribute as his due, and waved a +condescending hand in the speaker's direction. + +Some moments elapsed before he recognized Charteris, and the latter had +time to decide upon his line of action. If he attempted concealment in +any way, the man would recognize that on this occasion, at any rate, he +had, to use an adequate if unclassical expression, got the bulge, and +then there would be trouble. By brazening things out, however, there +was just a chance that he might make him imagine that there was more in +the matter than met the eye, and that, in some mysterious way, he had +actually obtained leave to visit Rutton that day. After all, the man +didn't know very much about School rules, and the recollection of the +recent fiasco in which he had taken part would make him think twice +about playing the amateur policeman again, especially in connection +with Charteris. + +So he smiled genially, and expressed a hope that the man enjoyed robust +health. + +The man replied by glaring in a simple and unaffected manner. + +'Looked up the Headmaster lately?' asked Charteris. + +'What are you doing here?' + +'I'm going to run. Hope you don't mind.' + +'You're out of bounds.' + +'That's what you said before. You'd better enquire a bit before you +make rash statements. Otherwise, there's no knowing what may happen. +Perhaps Mr Dacre has given me leave.' + +The man said something objurgatory under his breath, but forbore to +continue the discussion. He was wondering, as Charteris had expected +that he would, whether the latter had really got leave or not. It was a +difficult problem. + +Whether such a result was due to his mental struggles, or whether it +was simply to be attributed to his poor running, is open to question, +but the fact remains that the secretary of the Old Crockfordians did +not shine in the strangers' mile. He came in last but one, vanquishing +the pink sportsman by a foot. Charteris, after a hot finish, was beaten +on the tape by one of the weedy youths, who exhibited astounding +sprinting powers in the last two hundred yards, overhauling Charteris, +who had led all the time, in fine style, and scoring what the +_Stapleton Herald_ described as a 'highly popular victory'. + +As soon as he had recovered his normal stock of wind--which was not +immediately--it was borne in upon Charteris that if he wanted to catch +the five-fifteen back to Stapleton, he had better be beginning to +change. He went to the dressing-tent, and on examining his watch was +horrified to find that he had just ten minutes in which to do +everything, and the walk to the station, he reflected, was a long five +minutes. He literally hurled himself into his clothes, and, +disregarding the Bargee, who had entered the tent and seemed to wish to +continue the discussion at the point where they had left off, shot off +towards the gate nearest the station. He had exactly four minutes and +twenty-five seconds in which to complete the journey, and he had just +run a mile. + + + +_Chapter 5_ + +Fortunately the road was mainly level. On the other hand, he was +hampered by an overcoat. After the first hundred yards he took this +off, and carried it in an unwieldy parcel. This, he found, answered +admirably. Running became easier. He had worked the stiffness out of +his legs by this time, and was going well. Three hundred yards from the +station it was anybody's race. The exact position of the other +competitor, the train, could not be defined. It was at any rate not yet +within earshot, which meant that it still had at least a quarter of a +mile to go. Charteris considered that he had earned a rest. He slowed +down to a walk, but after proceeding at this pace for a few yards, +thought that he heard a distant whistle, and dashed on again. Suddenly +a raucous bellow of laughter greeted his ears from a spot in front of +him, hidden from his sight by a bend in the road. + +'Somebody slightly tight,' thought Charteris, rapidly diagnosing the +case. 'By Jove, if he comes rotting about with me I'll kill him.' +Having to do anything in a desperate hurry always made Charteris's +temper slightly villainous. He turned the corner at a sharp trot, and +came upon two youths who seemed to be engaged in the harmless +occupation of trying to ride a bicycle. They were of the type which he +held in especial aversion, the Rural Hooligan type, and one at least of +the two had evidently been present at a recent circulation of the +festive bowl. He was wheeling the bicycle about the road in an aimless +manner, and looked as if he wondered what was the matter with it that +it would not stay in the same place for two consecutive seconds. The +other youth was apparently of the 'Charles-his-friend' variety, content +to look on and applaud, and generally to play chorus to his companion's +'lead'. He was standing at the side of the road, smiling broadly in a +way that argued feebleness of mind. Charteris was not quite sure which +of the two types he loathed the more. He was inclined to call it a tie. + +However, there seemed to be nothing particularly lawless in what they +were doing now. If they were content to let him pass without hindrance, +he, for his part, was content generously to overlook the insult they +offered him in daring to exist, and to maintain a state of truce. But, +as he drew nearer, he saw that there was more in this business than the +casual spectator might at first have supposed. A second and keener +inspection of the reptiles revealed fresh phenomena. In the first +place, the bicycle which Hooligan number one was playing with was a +lady's bicycle, and a small one at that. Now, up to the age of fourteen +and the weight of ten stone, a beginner at cycling often finds it more +convenient to learn to ride on a lady's machine than on a gentleman's. +The former offers greater facilities for rapid dismounting, a quality +not to be despised in the earlier stages of initiation. But, though +this is undoubtedly the case, and though Charteris knew that it was so, +yet he felt instinctively that there was something wrong here. +Hooligans of twenty years and twelve stone do not learn to ride on +small ladies' machines, or, if they do, it is probably without the +permission of the small lady who owns the same. Valuable as his time +was, Charteris felt that it behoved him to spend a thoughtful minute or +so examining into this affair. He slowed down once again to a walk, +and, as he did so, his eye fell upon the character in the drama whose +absence had puzzled him, the owner of the bicycle. And from that moment +he felt that life would be a hollow mockery if he failed to fall upon +those revellers and slay them. She stood by the hedge on the right, a +forlorn little figure in grey, and she gazed sadly and helplessly at +the manoeuvres that were going on in the middle of the road. Her age +Charteris put down at a venture at twelve--a correct guess. Her state +of mind he also conjectured. She was letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I +would', like the late Macbeth, the cat i' the adage, and numerous other +celebrities. She evidently had plenty of remarks to make on the subject +in hand, but refrained from motives of prudence. + +Charteris had no such scruples. The feeling of fatigue that had been +upon him had vanished, and his temper, which had been growing steadily +worse for some twenty minutes, now boiled over gleefully at the +prospect of something solid to work itself off upon. Even without a +cause Charteris detested the Rural Hooligan. Now that a real, +copper-bottomed motive for this dislike had been supplied to him, he +felt himself capable of dealing with a whole regiment of the breed. The +criminal with the bicycle had just let it fall with a crash to the +ground when Charteris went for him low, in the style which the Babe +always insisted on seeing in members of the First Fifteen on the +football field, and hove him without comment into a damp ditch. +'Charles his friend' uttered a shout of disapproval and rushed into the +fray. Charteris gave him the straight left, of the type to which the +great John Jackson is reported to have owed so much in the days of the +old Prize Ring, and Charles, taking it between the eyes, stopped in a +discouraged and discontented manner, and began to rub the place. +Whereupon Charteris dashed in, and, to use an expression suitable to +the deed, 'swung his right at the mark'. The 'mark', it may be +explained for the benefit of the non-pugilistic, is that portion of the +anatomy which lies hid behind the third button of the human waistcoat. +It covers--in a most inadequate way--the wind, and even a gentle tap in +the locality is apt to produce a fleeting sense of discomfort. A +genuine flush hit on the spot, shrewdly administered by a muscular arm +with the weight of the body behind it, causes the passive agent in the +transaction to wish fervently, as far as he is at the moment physically +capable of wishing anything, that he had never been born. 'Charles his +friend' collapsed like an empty sack, and Charteris, getting a grip of +the outlying portions of his costume, dragged him to the ditch and +rolled him in on top of his friend, who had just recovered sufficiently +to be thinking about getting out again. The pair of them lay there in a +tangled heap. Charteris picked up the bicycle and gave it a cursory +examination. The enamel was a good deal scratched, but no material +damage had been done. He wheeled it across to its owner. + +'It isn't much hurt,' he said, as they walked on slowly together. 'Bit +scratched, that's all.' + +'Thanks _awfully_,' said the small lady. + +'Oh, not at all,' replied Charteris. 'I enjoyed it.' (He felt he had +said the right thing there. Your real hero always 'enjoys it'.) 'I'm +sorry those bargees frightened you.' + +'They did rather. But'--she added triumphantly after a pause--'I didn't +cry.' + +'Rather not,' said Charteris. 'You were awfully plucky. I noticed. But +hadn't you better ride on? Which way were you going?' + +'I wanted to get to Stapleton.' + +'Oh. That's simple enough. You've merely got to go straight on down +this road, as straight as ever you can go. But, look here, you know, +you shouldn't be out alone like this. It isn't safe. Why did they let +you?' + +The lady avoided his eye. She bent down and inspected the left pedal. + +'They shouldn't have sent you out alone,' said Charteris, 'why did +they?' + +'They--they didn't. I came.' + +There was a world of meaning in the phrase. Charteris felt that he was +in the same case. They had not let _him_. He had come. Here was a +kindred spirit, another revolutionary soul, scorning the fetters of +convention and the so-called authority of self-constituted rules, aha! +Bureaucrats! + +'Shake hands,' he said, 'I'm in just the same way.' + +They shook hands gravely. + +'You know,' said the lady, 'I'm awfully sorry I did it now. It was very +naughty.' + +'I'm not sorry yet,' said Charteris, 'I'm rather glad than otherwise. +But I expect I shall be sorry before long.' + +'Will you be sent to bed?' + +'I don't think so.' + +'Will you have to learn beastly poetry?' + +'Probably not.' + +She looked at him curiously, as if to enquire, 'then if you won't have +to learn poetry and you won't get sent to bed, what on earth is there +for you to worry about?' + +She would probably have gone on to investigate the problem further, but +at that moment there came the sound of a whistle. Then another, closer +this time. Then a faint rumbling, which increased in volume steadily. +Charteris looked back. The railway line ran by the side of the road. He +could see the smoke of a train through the trees. It was quite close +now, and coming closer every minute, and he was still quite a hundred +and fifty yards from the station gates. + +'I say,' he cried. 'Great Scott, here comes my train. I must rush. +Good-bye. You keep straight on.' + +His legs had had time to grow stiff again. For the first few strides +running was painful. But his joints soon adapted themselves to the +strain, and in ten seconds he was sprinting as fast as he had ever +sprinted off the running-track. When he had travelled a quarter of the +distance the small cyclist overtook him. + +'Be quick,' she said, 'it's just in sight.' + +Charteris quickened his stride, and, paced by the bicycle, spun along +in fine style. Forty yards from the station the train passed him. He +saw it roll into the station. There were still twenty yards to go, +exclusive of the station's steps, and he was already running as fast as +it lay in him to run. Now there were only ten. Now five. And at last, +with a hurried farewell to his companion, he bounded up the steps and +on to the platform. At the end of the platform the line took a sharp +curve to the left. Round that curve the tail end of the guard's van was +just disappearing. + +'Missed it, sir,' said the solitary porter, who managed things at +Rutton, cheerfully. He spoke as if he was congratulating Charteris on +having done something remarkably clever. + +'When's the next?' panted Charteris. + +'Eight-thirty,' was the porter's appalling reply. + +For a moment Charteris felt quite ill. No train till eight-thirty! Then +was he indeed lost. But it couldn't be true. There must be some sort of +a train between now and then. + +'Are you certain?' he said. 'Surely there's a train before that?' + +'Why, yes, sir,' said the porter gleefully, 'but they be all exprusses. +Eight-thirty be the only 'un what starps at Rootton.' + +'Thanks,' said Charteris with marked gloom, 'I don't think that'll be +much good to me. My aunt, what a hole I'm in.' + + The porter made a sympathetic and interrogative noise at the back of +his throat, as if inviting him to explain everything. But Charteris +felt unequal to conversation. There are moments when one wants to be +alone. He went down the steps again. When he got out into the road, his +small cycling friend had vanished. Charteris was conscious of a feeling +of envy towards her. She was doing the journey comfortably on a +bicycle. He would have to walk it. Walk it! He didn't believe he could. +The strangers' mile, followed by the Homeric combat with the two +Hooligans and that ghastly sprint to wind up with, had left him +decidedly unfit for further feats of pedestrianism. And it was eight +miles to Stapleton, if it was a yard, and another mile from Stapleton +to St Austin's. Charteris, having once more invoked the name of his +aunt, pulled himself together with an effort, and limped gallantly on +in the direction of Stapleton. But fate, so long hostile to him, at +last relented. A rattle of wheels approached him from behind. A thrill +of hope shot through him at the sound. There was the prospect of a +lift. He stopped, and waited for the dog-cart--it sounded like a +dog-cart--to arrive. Then he uttered a shout of rapture, and began to +wave his arms like a semaphore. The man in the dog-cart was Dr Adamson. + +'Hullo, Charteris,' said the Doctor, pulling up his horse, 'what are +you doing here?' + +'Give me a lift,' said Charteris, 'and I'll tell you. It's a long yarn. +Can I get in?' + +'Come along. Plenty of room.' + +Charteris climbed up, and sank on to the cushioned seat with a sigh of +pleasure. What glorious comfort. He had never enjoyed anything more in +his life. + +'I'm nearly dead,' he said, as the dog-cart went on again. 'This is how +it all happened. You see, it was this way--' + +And he embarked forthwith upon his narrative. + + + +_Chapter 6_ + +By special request the Doctor dropped Charteris within a hundred yards +of Merevale's door. + +'Good-night,' he said. 'I don't suppose you will value my advice at +all, but you may have it for what it is worth. I recommend you stop +this sort of game. Next time something will happen.' + +'By Jove, yes,' said Charteris, climbing painfully down from the +dog-cart, 'I'll take that advice. I'm a reformed character from this +day onwards. This sort of thing isn't good enough. Hullo, there's the +bell for lock-up. Good-night, Doctor, and thanks most awfully for the +lift. It was frightfully kind of you.' + +'Don't mention it,' said Dr Adamson, 'it is always a privilege to be in +your company. When are you coming to tea with me again?' + +'Whenever you'll have me. I must get leave, though, this time.' + +'Yes. By the way, how's Graham? It is Graham, isn't it? The fellow who +broke his collar-bone?' + +'Oh, he's getting on splendidly. Still in a sling, but it's almost well +again now. But I must be off. Good-night.' + +'Good-night. Come to tea next Monday.' + +'Right,' said Charteris; 'thanks awfully.' + +He hobbled in at Merevale's gate, and went up to his study. The Babe +was in there talking to Welch. + +'Hullo,' said the Babe, 'here's Charteris.' + +'What's left of him,' said Charteris. + +'How did it go off?' + +'Don't, please.' + +'Did you win?' asked Welch. + +'No. Second. By a yard. Oh, Lord, I am dead.' + +'Hot race?' + +'Rather. It wasn't that, though. I had to sprint all the way to the +station, and missed my train by ten seconds at the end of it all.' + +'Then how did you get here?' + +'That was the one stroke of luck I've had this afternoon. I started to +walk back, and after I'd gone about a quarter of a mile, Adamson caught +me up in his dog-cart. I suggested that it would be a Christian act on +his part to give me a lift, and he did. I shall remember Adamson in my +will.' + +'Tell us what happened.' + +'I'll tell thee everything I can,' said Charteris. 'There's little to +relate. I saw an aged, aged man a-sitting on a gate. Where do you want +me to begin?' + +'At the beginning. Don't rot.' + +'I was born,' began Charteris, 'of poor but honest parents, who sent +me to school at an early age in order that I might acquire a grasp of +the Greek and Latin languages, now obsolete. I--' + +'How did you lose?' enquired the Babe. + +'The other man beat me. If he hadn't, I should have won hands down. Oh, +I say, guess who I met at Rutton.' + +'Not a beak?' + +'No. Almost as bad, though. The Bargee man who paced me from Stapleton. +Man who crocked Tony.' + +'Great _Scott_!' cried the Babe. 'Did he recognize you?' + +'Rather. We had a very pleasant conversation.' + +'If he reports you,' began the Babe. + +'Who's that?' + +Charteris looked up. Tony Graham had entered the study. + +'Hullo, Tony! Adamson told me to remember him to you.' + +'So you've got back?' + +Charteris confirmed the hasty guess. + +'But what are you talking about, Babe?' said Tony. 'Who's going to be +reported, and who's going to report?' + +The Babe briefly explained the situation. + +'If the man,' he said, 'reports Charteris, he may get run in tomorrow, +and then we shall have both our halves away against Dacre's. Charteris, +you are a fool to go rotting about out of bounds like this.' + +'Nay, dry the starting tear,' said Charteris cheerfully. 'In the first +place, I shouldn't get kept in on a Thursday anyhow. I should be shoved +into extra on Saturday. Also, I shrewdly conveyed to the Bargee the +impression that I was at Rutton by special permission.' + +'He's bound to know that that can't be true,' said Tony. + +'Well, I told him to think it over. You see, he got so badly left last +time he tried to compass my downfall, that I shouldn't be a bit +surprised if he let the job alone this journey.' + +'Let's hope so,' said the Babe gloomily. + +'That's right, Babby,' remarked Charteris encouragingly, nodding at the +pessimist. + +'You buck up and keep looking on the bright side. It'll be all right. +You see if it won't. If there's any running in to be done, I shall do +it. I shall be frightfully fit tomorrow after all this dashing about +today. I haven't an ounce of superfluous flesh on me. I'm a fine, +strapping specimen of sturdy young English manhood. And I'm going to +play a _very_ selfish game tomorrow, Babe.' + +'Oh, my dear chap, you mustn't.' The Babe's face wore an expression of +horror. The success of the House-team in the final was very near to his +heart. He could not understand anyone jesting on the subject. Charteris +respected his anguish, and relieved it speedily. + +'I was only ragging,' he said. 'Considering that our three-quarter line +is our one strong point, I'm not likely to keep the ball from it, if I +get a chance of getting it out. Make your mind easy, Babe.' + +The final House-match was always a warmish game. The rivalry between +the various Houses was great, and the football cup especially was +fought for with immense keenness. Also, the match was the last fixture +of the season, and there was a certain feeling in the teams that if +they _did_ happen to disable a man or two, it would not matter +much. The injured sportsman would not be needed for School-match +purposes for another six months. As a result of which philosophical +reflection, the tackling was ruled slightly energetic, and the +handing-off was done with vigour. + +This year, to add a sort of finishing touch, there was just a little +ill-feeling between Dacre's and Merevale's. The cause of it was the +Babe. Until the beginning of the term he had been a day boy. Then the +news began to circulate that he was going to become a boarder, either +at Dacre's or at Merevale's. He chose the latter, and Dacre's felt +slightly aggrieved. Some of the less sportsmanlike members of the House +had proposed that a protest should be made against his being allowed to +play, but, fortunately for the credit of Dacre's, Prescott, the captain +of the House Fifteen, had put his foot down with an emphatic bang at +the suggestion. As he sagely pointed out, there were some things which +were bad form, and this was one of them. If the team wanted to express +their disapproval, said he, let them do it on the field by tackling +their very hardest. He personally was going to do his best, and he +advised them to do the same. + +The rumour of this bad blood had got about the School in some +mysterious manner, and when Swift, Merevale's only First Fifteen +forward, kicked off up the hill, a large crowd was lining the ropes. It +was evident from the outset that it would be a good game. + +Dacre's were the better side--as a team. They had no really weak spot. +But Merevale's extraordinarily strong three-quarter line somewhat made +up for an inferior scrum. And the fact that the Babe was in the centre +was worth much. + +At first Dacre's pressed. Their pack was unusually heavy for a +House-team, and they made full use of it. They took the ball down the +field in short rushes till they were in Merevale's twenty-five. Then +they began to heel, and, if things had been more or less exciting for +the Merevalians before, they became doubly so now. The ground was dry, +and so was the ball, and the game consequently waxed fast. Time after +time the ball went along Dacre's three-quarter line, only to end by +finding itself hurled, with the wing who was carrying it, into touch. +Occasionally the centres, instead of feeding their wings, would try to +dodge through themselves. And that was where the Babe came in. He was +admittedly the best tackler in the School, but on this occasion he +excelled himself. His man never had a chance of getting past. At last a +lofty kick into touch over the heads of the spectators gave the players +a few seconds' rest. + +The Babe went up to Charteris. + +'Look here,' he said, 'it's risky, but I think we'll try having the +ball out a bit.' + +'In our own twenty-five?' said Charteris. + +'Wherever we are. I believe it will come off all right. Anyway, we'll +try it. Tell the forwards.' + +For forwards playing against a pack much heavier than themselves, it is +easier to talk about letting the ball out than to do it. The first half +dozen times that Merevale's scrum tried to heel they were shoved off +their feet, and it was on the enemy's side that the ball went out. But +the seventh attempt succeeded. Out it came, cleanly and speedily. +Daintree, who was playing instead of Tony, switched it across to +Charteris. Charteris dodged the half who was marking him, and ran. +Heeling and passing in one's own twenty-five is like smoking--an +excellent practice if indulged in in moderation. On this occasion it +answered perfectly. Charteris ran to the half-way line, and handed the +ball on to the Babe. The Babe was tackled from behind, and passed to +Thomson. Thomson dodged his man, and passed to Welch on the wing. Welch +was the fastest sprinter in the School. It was a pleasure--if you did +not happen to be one of the opposing side--to see him race down the +touch-line. He was off like an arrow. Dacre's back made a futile +attempt to get at him. Welch could have given the back fifteen yards in +a hundred. He ran round him, and, amidst terrific applause from the +Merevale's-supporting section of the audience, scored between the +posts. The Babe took the kick and converted without difficulty. Five +minutes afterwards the whistle blew for half-time. + +The remainder of the game does not call for detailed description. +Dacre's pressed nearly the whole of the last half hour, but twice more +the ball came out and went down Merevale's three-quarter line. Once it +was the Babe who scored with a run from his own goal-line, and once +Charteris, who got in from half-way, dodging through the whole team. +The last ten minutes of the game was marked by a slight excess of +energy on both sides. Dacre's forwards were in a decidedly bad temper, +and fought like tigers to break through, and Merevale's played up to +them with spirit. The Babe seemed continually to be precipitating +himself at the feet of rushing forwards, and Charteris felt as if at +least a dozen bones were broken in various portions of his anatomy. The +game ended on Merevale's line, but they had won the match and the cup +by two goals and a try to nothing. + +Charteris limped off the field, cheerful but damaged. He ached all +over, and there was a large bruise on his left cheek-bone. He and Babe +were going to the House, when they were aware that the Headmaster was +beckoning to them. + +'Well, MacArthur, and what was the result of the match?' + +'We won, sir,' boomed the Babe. 'Two goals and a try to _nil_.' + +'You have hurt your cheek, Charteris?' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'How did you do that?' + +'I got a kick, sir, in one of the rushes.' + +'Ah. I should bathe it, Charteris. Bathe it well. I hope it will not be +very painful. Bathe it well in warm water.' + +He walked on. + +'You know,' said Charteris to the Babe, as they went into the House, +'the Old Man isn't such a bad sort after all. He has his points, don't +you think?' + +The Babe said that he did. + +'I'm going to reform, you know,' continued Charteris confidentially. + +'It's about time,' said the Babe. 'You can have the bath first if you +like. Only buck up.' + +Charteris boiled himself for ten minutes, and then dragged his weary +limbs to his study. It was while he was sitting in a deck-chair eating +mixed biscuits, and wondering if he would ever be able to summon up +sufficient energy to put on garments of civilization, that somebody +knocked at the door. + +'Yes,' shouted Charteris. 'What is it? Don't come in. I'm changing.' + +The melodious treble of Master Crowinshaw, his fag, made itself heard +through the keyhole. + +'The Head told me to tell you that he wanted to see you at the School +House as soon as you can go.' + +'All right,' shouted Charteris. 'Thanks.' + +'Now what,' he continued to himself, 'does the Old Man want to see me +for? Perhaps he wants to make certain that I've bathed my cheek in warm +water. Anyhow, I suppose I must go.' + +A quarter of an hour later he presented himself at the Headmagisterial +door. The sedate Parker, the Head's butler, who always filled Charteris +with a desire to dig him hard in the ribs just to see what would +happen, ushered him into the study. + +The Headmaster was reading by the light of a lamp when Charteris came +in. He laid down his book, and motioned him to a seat; after which +there was an awkward pause. + +'I have just received,' began the Head at last, 'a most unpleasant +communication. Most unpleasant. From whom it comes I do not know. It +is, in fact--er--anonymous. I am sorry that I ever read it.' + +He stopped. Charteris made no comment. He guessed what was coming. He, +too, was sorry that the Head had ever read the letter. + +'The writer says that he saw you, that he actually spoke to you, at the +athletic sports at Rutton yesterday. I have called you in to tell me if +that is true.' The Head fastened an accusing eye on his companion. + +'It is quite true, sir,' said Charteris steadily. + +'What!' said the Head sharply. 'You were at Rutton?' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'You were perfectly aware, I suppose, that you were breaking the School +rules by going there, Charteris?' enquired the Head in a cold voice. + +'Yes, sir.' There was another pause. + +'This is very serious,' began the Head. 'I cannot overlook this. I--' + +There was a slight scuffle of feet in the passage outside. The door +flew open vigorously, and a young lady entered. It was, as Charteris +recognized in a minute, his acquaintance of the afternoon, the young +lady of the bicycle. + +'Uncle,' she said, 'have you seen my book anywhere?' + +'Hullo!' she broke off as her eye fell on Charteris. + +'Hullo!' said Charteris, affably, not to be outdone in the courtesies. + +'Did you catch your train?' + +'No. Missed it.' + +'Hullo! what's the matter with your cheek?' + +'I got a kick on it.' + +'Oh, does it hurt?' + +'Not much, thanks.' + +Here the Head, feeling perhaps a little out of it, put in his oar. + +'Dorothy, you must not come here now. I am busy. And how, may I ask, do +you and Charteris come to be acquainted?' + +'Why, he's him,' said Dorothy lucidly. + +The Head looked puzzled. + +'Him. The chap, you know.' + +It is greatly to the Head's credit that he grasped the meaning of these +words. Long study of the classics had quickened his faculty for seeing +sense in passages where there was none. The situation dawned upon him. + +'Do you mean to tell me, Dorothy, that it was Charteris who came to +your assistance yesterday?' + +Dorothy nodded energetically. + +'He gave the men beans,' she said. 'He did, really,' she went on, +regardless of the Head's look of horror. 'He used right and left with +considerable effect.' + +Dorothy's brother, a keen follower of the Ring, had been good enough +some days before to read her out an extract from an account in _The +Sportsman_ of a match at the National Sporting Club, and the account +had been much to her liking. She regarded it as a masterpiece of +English composition. + +'Dorothy,' said the Headmaster, 'run away to bed.' A suggestion which +she treated with scorn, it wanting a clear two hours to her legal +bedtime. 'I must speak to your mother about your deplorable habit of +using slang. Dear me, I must certainly speak to her.' + +And, shamefully unabashed, Dorothy retired. + +The Head was silent for a few minutes after she had gone; then he +turned to Charteris again. + +'In consideration of this, Charteris, I shall--er--mitigate slightly +the punishment I had intended to give you.' + +Charteris murmured his gratification. + +'But,' continued the Head sternly, 'I cannot overlook the offence. I +have my duty to consider. You will therefore write me--er--ten lines of +Virgil by tomorrow evening, Charteris.' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Latin _and_ English,' said the relentless pedagogue. + +'Yes, sir.' + +'And, Charteris--I am speaking now--er--unofficially, not as a +headmaster, you understand--if in future you would cease to break +School rules simply as a matter of principle, for that, I fancy, is what +it amounts to, I--er--well, I think we should get on better together. +And that is, on my part at least, a consummation--er--devoutly to be +wished. Good-night, Charteris.' + +'Good-night, sir.' + +The Head extended a large hand. Charteris took it, and his departure. + +The Headmaster opened his book again, and turned over a new leaf. +Charteris at the same moment, walking slowly in the direction of +Merevale's, was resolving for the future to do the very same thing. And +he did. + + + + +[9] + +HOW PAYNE BUCKED UP + + +It was Walkinshaw's affair from the first. Grey, the captain of the St +Austin's Fifteen, was in the infirmary nursing a bad knee. To him came +Charles Augustus Walkinshaw with a scheme. Walkinshaw was football +secretary, and in Grey's absence acted as captain. Besides these two +there were only a couple of last year's team left--Reade and Barrett, +both of Philpott's House. + +'Hullo, Grey, how's the knee?' said Walkinshaw. + +'How's the team getting on?' he said. + +'Well, as far as I can see,' said Walkinshaw, 'we ought to have a +rather good season, if you'd only hurry up and come back. We beat a +jolly hot lot of All Comers yesterday. Smith was playing for them. The +Blue, you know. And lots of others. We got a goal and a try to +_nil_.' + +'Good,' said Grey. 'Who did anything for us? Who scored?' + +'I got in once. Payne got the other.' + +'By Jove, did he? What sort of a game is he playing this year?' + +The moment had come for Walkinshaw to unburden himself to his scheme. +He proceeded to do so. + +'Not up to much,' he said. 'Look here, Grey, I've got rather an idea. +It's my opinion Payne's not bucking up nearly as much as he might. Do +you mind if I leave him out of the next game?' + +Grey stared. The idea was revolutionary. + +'What! Leave him out? My good man, he'll be the next chap to get his +colours. He's a cert. for his cap.' + +'That's just it. He knows he's a cert., and he's slacking on the +strength of it. Now, my idea is that if you slung him out for a match +or two, he'd buck up extra hard when he came into the team again. Can't +I have a shot at it?' + +Grey weighed the matter. Walkinshaw pressed home his arguments. + +'You see, it isn't like cricket. At cricket, of course, it might put a +chap off awfully to be left out, but I don't see how it can hurt a +man's play at footer. Besides, he's beginning to stick on side +already.' + +'Is he, by Jove?' said Grey. This was the unpardonable sin. 'Well, I'll +tell you what you can do if you like. Get up a scratch game, First +Fifteen _v._ Second, and make him captain of the Second.' + +'Right,' said Walkinshaw, and retired beaming. + +Walkinshaw, it may be remarked at once, to prevent mistakes, was a +well-meaning idiot. There was no doubt about his being well-meaning. +Also, there was no doubt about his being an idiot. He was continually +getting insane ideas into his head, and being unable to get them out +again. This matter of Payne was a good example of his customary +methods. He had put his hand on the one really first-class forward St +Austin's possessed, and proposed to remove him from the team. And yet +through it all he was perfectly well-meaning. The fact that personally +he rather disliked Payne had, to do him justice, no weight at all with +him. He would have done the same by his bosom friend under like +circumstances. This is the only excuse that can be offered for him. It +was true that Payne regarded himself as a certainty for his colours, as +far as anything can be considered certain in this vale of sorrow. But +to accuse him of trading on this, and, to use the vernacular, of +putting on side, was unjust to a degree. + +On the afternoon following this conversation Payne, who was a member of +Dacre's House, came into his study and banged his books down on the +table with much emphasis. This was a sign that he was feeling +dissatisfied with the way in which affairs were conducted in the world. +Bowden, who was asleep in an armchair--he had been staying in with a +cold--woke with a start. Bowden shared Payne's study. He played centre +three-quarter for the Second Fifteen. + +'Hullo!' he said. + +Payne grunted. Bowden realized that matters had not been going well +with him. He attempted to soothe him with conversation, choosing what +he thought would be a congenial topic. + +'What's on on Saturday?' he asked. + +'Scratch game. First _v._ Second.' + +Bowden groaned. + +'I know those First _v._ Second games,' he said. 'They turn the +Second out to get butchered for thirty-five minutes each way, to +improve the First's combination. It may be fun for the First, but it's +not nearly so rollicking for us. Look here, Payne, if you find me with +the pill at any time, you can let me down easy, you know. You needn't +go bringing off any of your beastly gallery tackles.' + +'I won't,' said Payne. 'To start with, it would be against rules. We +happen to be on the same side.' + +'Rot, man; I'm not playing for the First.' This was the only +explanation that occurred to him. + +'I'm playing for the Second.' + +'What! Are you certain?' + +'I've seen the list. They're playing Babington instead of me.' + +'But why? Babington's no good.' + +'I think they have a sort of idea I'm slacking or something. At any +rate, Walkinshaw told me that if I bucked up I might get tried again.' + +'Silly goat,' said Bowden. 'What are you going to do?' + +'I'm going to take his advice, and buck up.' + +II + +He did. At the beginning of the game the ropes were lined by some +thirty spectators, who had come to derive a languid enjoyment from +seeing the First pile up a record score. By half-time their numbers had +risen to an excited mob of something over three hundred, and the second +half of the game was fought out to the accompaniment of a storm of +yells and counter yells such as usually only belonged to +school-matches. The Second Fifteen, after a poor start, suddenly awoke +to the fact that this was not going to be the conventional massacre by +any means. The First had scored an unconverted try five minutes after +the kick-off, and it was after this that the Second began to get +together. The school back bungled the drop out badly, and had to find +touch in his own twenty-five, and after that it was anyone's game. The +scrums were a treat to behold. Payne was a monument of strength. Time +after time the Second had the ball out to their three-quarters, and +just after half-time Bowden slipped through in the corner. The kick +failed, and the two teams, with their scores equal now, settled down +grimly to fight the thing out to a finish. But though they remained on +their opponents' line for most of the rest of the game, the Second did +not add to their score, and the match ended in a draw of three points +all. + +The first intimation Grey received of this came to him late in the +evening. He had been reading a novel which, whatever its other merits +may have been, was not interesting, and it had sent him to sleep. He +awoke to hear a well-known voice observe with some unction: 'Ah! M'yes. +Leeches and hot fomentations.' This effectually banished sleep. If +there were two things in the world that he loathed, they were leeches +and hot fomentations, and the School doctor apparently regarded them as +a panacea for every kind of bodily ailment, from a fractured skull to a +cold in the head. It was this gentleman who had just spoken, but Grey's +alarm vanished as he perceived that the words had no personal +application to himself. The object of the remark was a fellow-sufferer +in the next bed but one. Now Grey was certain that when he had fallen +asleep there had been nobody in that bed. When, therefore, the medical +expert had departed on his fell errand, the quest of leeches and hot +fomentations, he sat up and gave tongue. + +'Who's that in that bed?' he asked. + +'Hullo, Grey,' replied a voice. 'Didn't know you were awake. I've come +to keep you company.' + +'That you, Barrett? What's up with you?' + +'Collar-bone. Dislocated it or something. Reade's over in that corner. +He has bust his ankle. Oh, yes, we've been having a nice, cheery +afternoon,' concluded Barrett bitterly. + +'Great Scott! How did it happen?' + +'Payne.' + +'Where? In your collar-bone?' + +'Yes. That wasn't what I meant, though. What I was explaining was that +Payne got hold of me in the middle of the field, and threw me into +touch. After which he fell on me. That was enough for my simple needs. +I'm not grasping.' + +'How about Reade?' + +'The entire Second scrum collapsed on top of Reade. When we dug him out +his ankle was crocked. Mainspring gone, probably. Then they gathered up +the pieces and took them gently away. I don't know how it all ended.' + +Just then Walkinshaw burst into the room. He had a large bruise over +one eye, his arm was in a sling, and he limped. But he was in excellent +spirits. + +'I knew I was right, by Jove,' he observed to Grey. 'I knew he could +buck up if he liked.' + +'I know it now,' said Barrett. + +'Who's this you're talking about?' said Grey. + +'Payne. I've never seen anything like the game he played today. He was +everywhere. And, by Jove, his _tackling_!' + +'Don't,' said Barrett, wearily. + +'It's the best match I ever played in,' said Walkinshaw, bubbling over +with enthusiasm. 'Do you know, the Second had all the best of the +game.' + +'What was the score?' + +'Draw. One try all.' + +'And now I suppose you're satisfied?' enquired Barrett. The great +scheme for the regeneration of Payne had been confided to him by its +proud patentee. + +'Almost,' said Walkinshaw. 'We'll continue the treatment for one more +game, and then we'll have him simply fizzing for the Windybury match. +That's next Saturday. By the way, I'm afraid you'll hardly be fit again +in time for that, Barrett, will you?' + +'I may possibly,' said Barrett, coldly, 'be getting about again in time +for the Windybury match of the year after next. This year I'm afraid I +shall not have the pleasure. And I should strongly advise you, if you +don't want to have to put a team of cripples into the field, to +discontinue the treatment, as you call it.' + +'Oh, I don't know,' said Walkinshaw. + +On the following Wednesday evening, at five o'clock, something was +carried in on a stretcher, and deposited in the bed which lay between +Grey and Barrett. Close scrutiny revealed the fact that it was what had +once been Charles Augustus Walkinshaw. He was slightly broken up. + +'Payne?' enquired Grey in chilly tones. + +Walkinshaw admitted the impeachment. + +Grey took a pencil and a piece of paper from the table at his side. 'If +you want to know what I'm doing,' he said, 'I'm writing out the team +for the Windybury match, and I'm going to make Payne captain, as the +senior Second Fifteen man. And if we win I'm jolly well going to give +him his cap after the match. If we don't win, it'll be the fault of a +raving lunatic of the name of Walkinshaw, with his beastly Colney Hatch +schemes for reforming slack forwards. You utter rotter!' + +Fortunately for the future peace of mind of C. A. Walkinshaw, the +latter contingency did not occur. The School, in spite of its +absentees, contrived to pull the match off by a try to _nil_. +Payne, as was only right and proper, scored the try, making his way +through the ranks of the visiting team with the quiet persistence of a +steam-roller. After the game he came to tea, by request, at the +infirmary, and was straightaway invested by Grey with his First Fifteen +colours. On his arrival he surveyed the invalids with interest. + +'Rough game, footer,' he observed at length. + +'Don't mention it,' said Barrett politely. 'Leeches,' he added +dreamily. 'Leeches and hot fomentations. _Boiling_ fomentations. +Will somebody kindly murder Walkinshaw!' + +'Why?' asked Payne, innocently. + + + + +[10] + +AUTHOR! + + +J. S. M. Babington, of Dacre's House, was on the horns of a dilemma. +Circumstances over which he had had no control had brought him, like +another Hercules, to the cross-roads, and had put before him the choice +between pleasure and duty, or, rather, between pleasure and what those +in authority called duty. Being human, he would have had little +difficulty in making his decision, had not the path of pleasure been so +hedged about by danger as to make him doubt whether after all the thing +could be carried through. + +The facts in the case were these. It was the custom of the mathematical +set to which J. S. M. Babington belonged, 4B to wit, to relieve the +tedium of the daily lesson with a species of round game which was +played as follows. As soon as the master had taken his seat, one of the +players would execute a manoeuvre calculated to draw attention on +himself, such as dropping a book or upsetting the blackboard. Called up +to the desk to give explanation, he would embark on an eloquent speech +for the defence. This was the cue for the next player to begin. His +part consisted in making his way to the desk and testifying to the +moral excellence of his companion, and giving in full the reasons why +he should be discharged without a stain upon his character. As soon as +he had warmed to his work he would be followed by a third player, and +so on until the standing room around the desk was completely filled +with a great cloud of witnesses. The duration of the game varied, of +course, considerably. On some occasions it could be played through with +such success, that the master would enter into the spirit of the thing, +and do his best to book the names of all offenders at one and the same +time, a feat of no inconsiderable difficulty. At other times matters +would come to a head more rapidly. In any case, much innocent fun was +to be derived from it, and its popularity was great. On the day, +however, on which this story opens, a new master had been temporarily +loosed into the room in place of the Rev. Septimus Brown, who had been +there as long as the oldest inhabitant could remember. The Rev. +Septimus was a wrangler, but knew nothing of the ways of the human boy. +His successor, Mr Reginald Seymour, was a poor mathematician, but a +good master. He had been, moreover, a Cambridge Rugger Blue. This fact +alone should have ensured him against the customary pleasantries, for a +Blue is a man to be respected. It was not only injudicious, therefore, +but positively wrong of Babington to plunge against the blackboard on +his way to his place. If he had been a student of Tennyson, he might +have remembered that the old order is in the habit of changing and +yielding place to the new. + +Mr Seymour looked thoughtfully for a moment +at the blackboard. + +'That was rather a crude effort,' he said pleasantly to Babington, 'you +lack _finesse_. Pick it up again, please.' + +Babington picked it up without protest. Under the rule of the Rev. +Septimus this would have been the signal for the rest of the class to +leave their places and assist him, but now they seemed to realize that +there was a time for everything, and that this was decidedly no time +for indoor games. + +'Thank you,' said Mr Seymour, when the board was in its place again. +'What is your name? Eh, what? I didn't quite hear.' + +'Babington, sir.' + +'Ah. You had better come in tomorrow at two and work out examples three +hundred to three-twenty in "Hall and Knight". There is really plenty of +room to walk in between that desk and the blackboard. It only wants +practice.' + +What was left of Babington then went to his seat. He felt that his +reputation as an artistic player of the game had received a shattering +blow. Then there was the imposition. This in itself would have troubled +him little. To be kept in on a half-holiday is annoying, but it is one +of those ills which the flesh is heir to, and your true philosopher can +always take his gruel like a man. + +But it so happened that by the evening post he had received a letter +from a cousin of his, who was a student at Guy's, and from all accounts +was building up a great reputation in the medical world. From this +letter it appeared that by a complicated process of knowing people who +knew other people who had influence with the management, he had +contrived to obtain two tickets for a morning performance of the new +piece that had just been produced at one of the theatres. And if Mr J. +S. M. Babington wished to avail himself of the opportunity, would he +write by return, and be at Charing Cross Underground bookstall at +twenty past two. + +Now Babington, though he objected strongly to the drama of ancient +Greece, was very fond of that of the present day, and he registered a +vow that if the matter could possibly be carried through, it should be. +His choice was obvious. He could cut his engagement with Mr Seymour, or +he could keep it. The difficulty lay rather in deciding upon one or +other of the alternatives. The whole thing turned upon the extent of +the penalty in the event of detection. + +That was his dilemma. He sought advice. + +'I should risk it,' said his bosom friend Peterson. + +'I shouldn't advise you to,' remarked Jenkins. + +Jenkins was equally a bosom friend, and in the matter of wisdom in no +way inferior to Peterson. + +'What would happen, do you think?' asked Babington. + +'Sack,' said one authority. + +'Jaw, and double impot,' said another. + +'The _Daily Telegraph_,' muttered the tempter in a stage aside, +'calls it the best comedy since Sheridan.' + +'So it does,' thought Babington. 'I'll risk it.' + +'You'll be a fool if you do,' croaked the gloomy Jenkins. 'You're bound +to be caught.' But the Ayes had it. Babington wrote off that night +accepting the invitation. + +It was with feelings of distinct relief that he heard Mr Seymour +express to another master his intention of catching the twelve-fifteen +train up to town. It meant that he would not be on the scene to see him +start on the 'Hall and Knight'. Unless luck were very much against him, +Babington might reasonably hope that he would accept the imposition +without any questions. He had taken the precaution to get the examples +finished overnight, with the help of Peterson and Jenkins, aided by a +weird being who actually appeared to like algebra, and turned out ten +of the twenty problems in an incredibly short time in exchange for a +couple of works of fiction (down) and a tea (at a date). He himself +meant to catch the one-thirty, which would bring him to town in good +time. Peterson had promised to answer his name at roll-call, a delicate +operation, in which long practice had made him, like many others of the +junior members of the House, no mean proficient. + +It would be pleasant for a conscientious historian to be able to say +that the one-thirty broke down just outside Victoria, and that +Babington arrived at the theatre at the precise moment when the curtain +fell and the gratified audience began to stream out. But truth, though +it crush me. The one-thirty was so punctual that one might have thought +that it belonged to a line other than the line to which it did belong. +From Victoria to Charing Cross is a journey that occupies no +considerable time, and Babington found himself at his destination with +five minutes to wait. At twenty past his cousin arrived, and they made +their way to the theatre. A brief skirmish with a liveried menial in +the lobby, and they were in their seats. + +Some philosopher, of extraordinary powers of intuition, once informed +the world that the best of things come at last to an end. The statement +was tested, and is now universally accepted as correct. To apply the +general to the particular, the play came to an end amidst uproarious +applause, to which Babington contributed an unstinted quotum, about +three hours after it had begun. + +'What do you say to going and grubbing somewhere?' asked Babington's +cousin, as they made their way out. + +'Hullo, there's that man Richards,' he continued, before Babington +could reply that of all possible actions he considered that of going +and grubbing somewhere the most desirable. 'Fellow I know at Guy's, you +know,' he added, in explanation. 'I'll get him to join us. You'll like +him, I expect.' + +Richards professed himself delighted, and shook hands with Babington +with a fervour which seemed to imply that until he had met him life had +been a dreary blank, but that now he could begin to enjoy himself +again. 'I should like to join you, if you don't mind including a friend +of mine in the party,' said Richards. 'He was to meet me here. By the +way, he's the author of that new piece--_The Way of the World.'_ + +'Why, we've just been there.' + +'Oh, then you will probably like to meet him. Here he is.' + +As he spoke a man came towards them, and, with a shock that sent all +the blood in his body to the very summit of his head, and then to the +very extremities of his boots, Babington recognized Mr Seymour. The +assurance of the programme that the play was by Walter Walsh was a +fraud. Nay worse, a downright and culpable lie. He started with the +vague idea of making a rush for safety, but before his paralysed limbs +could be induced to work, Mr Seymour had arrived, and he was being +introduced (oh, the tragic irony of it) to the man for whose benefit he +was at that very moment supposed to be working out examples three +hundred to three-twenty in 'Hall and Knight'. + +Mr Seymour shook hands, without appearing to recognize him. Babington's +blood began to resume its normal position again, though he felt that +this seeming ignorance of his identity might be a mere veneer, a wile +of guile, as the bard puts it. He remembered, with a pang, a story in +some magazine where a prisoner was subjected to what the light-hearted +inquisitors called the torture of hope. He was allowed to escape from +prison, and pass guards and sentries apparently without their noticing +him. Then, just as he stepped into the open air, the chief inquisitor +tapped him gently on the shoulder, and, more in sorrow than in anger, +reminded him that it was customary for condemned men to remain +_inside_ their cells. Surely this was a similar case. But then the +thought came to him that Mr Seymour had only seen him once, and so +might possibly have failed to remember him, for there was nothing +special about Babington's features that arrested the eye, and stamped +them on the brain for all time. He was rather ordinary than otherwise +to look at. At tea, as bad luck would have it, the two sat opposite one +another, and Babington trembled. Then the worst happened. Mr Seymour, +who had been looking attentively at him for some time, leaned forward +and said in a tone evidently devoid of suspicion: 'Haven't we met +before somewhere? I seem to remember your face.' + +'Er--no, no,' replied Babington. 'That is, I think not. We may have.' + +'I feel sure we have. What school are you at?' + +Babington's soul began to writhe convulsively. + +'What, what school? Oh, what _school_? Why, er--I'm +at--er--Uppingham.' + +Mr Seymour's face assumed a pleased expression. + +'Uppingham? Really. Why, I know several Uppingham fellows. Do you know +Mr Morton? He's a master at Uppingham, and a great friend of mine.' + +The room began to dance briskly before Babington's eyes, but he +clutched at a straw, or what he thought was a straw. + +'Uppingham? Did I say Uppingham? Of course, I mean Rugby, you know, +Rugby. One's always mixing the two up, you know. Isn't one?' + +Mr Seymour looked at him in amazement. Then he looked at the others as +if to ask which of the two was going mad, he or the youth opposite him. +Babington's cousin listened to the wild fictions which issued from his +lips in equal amazement. He thought he must be ill. Even Richards had a +fleeting impression that it was a little odd that a fellow should +forget what school he was at, and mistake the name Rugby for that of +Uppingham, or _vice versa_. Babington became an object of +interest. + +'I say, Jack,' said the cousin, 'you're feeling all right, aren't you? +I mean, you don't seem to know what you're talking about. If you're +going to be ill, say so, and I'll prescribe for you.' + +'Is he at Rugby?' asked Mr Seymour. + +'No, of course he's not. How could he have got from Rugby to London in +time for a morning performance? Why, he's at St Austin's.' + +Mr Seymour sat for a moment in silence, taking this in. Then he +chuckled. 'It's all right,' he said, 'he's not ill. We have met before, +but under such painful circumstances that Master Babington very +thoughtfully dissembled, in order not to remind me of them.' + +He gave a brief synopsis of what had occurred. The audience, exclusive +of Babington, roared with laughter. + +'I suppose,' said the cousin, 'you won't prosecute, will you? It's +really such shocking luck, you know, that you ought to forget you're a +master.' + +Mr Seymour stirred his tea and added another lump of sugar very +carefully before replying. Babington watched him in silence, and wished +that he would settle the matter quickly, one way or the other. + +'Fortunately for Babington,' said Mr Seymour, 'and unfortunately for +the cause of morality, I am not a master. I was only a stop-gap, and my +term of office ceased today at one o'clock. Thus the prisoner at the +bar gets off on a technical point of law, and I trust it will be a +lesson to him. I suppose you had the sense to do the imposition?' + +'Yes, sir, I sat up last night.' + +'Good. Now, if you'll take my advice, you'll reform, or another +day you'll come to a bad end. By the way, how did you manage about +roll-call today?' + +'I thought that was an awfully good part just at the end of the first +act,' said Babington. + +Mr Seymour smiled. Possibly from gratification. + +'Well, how did it go off?' asked Peterson that night. + +'Don't, old chap,' said Babington, faintly. + +'I told you so,' said Jenkins at a venture. + +But when he had heard the whole story he withdrew the remark, and +commented on the wholly undeserved good luck some people seemed to +enjoy. + + + + +[11] + +'THE TABBY TERROR' + + +The struggle between Prater's cat and Prater's cat's conscience was +short, and ended in the hollowest of victories for the former. The +conscience really had no sort of chance from the beginning. It was weak +by nature and flabby from long want of exercise, while the cat was in +excellent training, and was, moreover, backed up by a strong +temptation. It pocketed the stakes, which consisted of most of the +contents of a tin of sardines, and left unostentatiously by the window. +When Smith came in after football, and found the remains, he was +surprised, and even pained. When Montgomery entered soon afterwards, he +questioned him on the subject. + +'I say, have you been having a sort of preliminary canter with the +banquet?' + +'No,' said Montgomery. 'Why?' + +'Somebody has,' said Smith, exhibiting the empty tin. 'Doesn't seem to +have had such a bad appetite, either.' + +'This reminds me of the story of the great bear, the medium bear, and +the little ditto,' observed Montgomery, who was apt at an analogy. 'You +may remember that when the great bear found his porridge tampered with, +he--' + +At this point Shawyer entered. He had been bidden to the feast, and was +feeling ready for it. + +'Hullo, tea ready?' he asked. + +Smith displayed the sardine tin in much the same manner as the conjurer +shows a pack of cards when he entreats you to choose one, and remember +the number. + +'You haven't finished already, surely? Why, it's only just five.' + +'We haven't even begun,' said Smith. 'That's just the difficulty. The +question is, who has been on the raid in here?' + +'No human being has done this horrid thing,' said Montgomery. He always +liked to introduce a Holmes-Watsonian touch into the conversation. 'In +the first place, the door was locked, wasn't it, Smith?' + +'By Jove, so it was. Then how on earth--?' + +'Through the window, of course. The cat, equally of course. I should +like a private word with that cat.' + +'I suppose it must have been.' + +'Of course it was. Apart from the merely circumstantial evidence, which +is strong enough to hang it off its own bat, we have absolute proof of +its guilt. Just cast your eye over that butter. You follow me, Watson?' + +The butter was submitted to inspection. In the very centre of it there +was a footprint. + +'_I_ traced his little footprints in the butter,' said Montgomery. +'Now, is that the mark of a human foot?' + +The jury brought in a unanimous verdict of guilty against the missing +animal, and over a sorrowful cup of tea, eked out with bread and +jam--butter appeared to be unpopular--discussed the matter in all its +bearings. The cat had not been an inmate of Prater's House for a very +long time, and up till now what depredation it had committed had been +confined to the official larder. Now, however, it had evidently got its +hand in, and was about to commence operations upon a more extensive +scale. The Tabby Terror had begun. Where would it end? The general +opinion was that something would have to be done about it. No one +seemed to know exactly what to do. Montgomery spoke darkly of bricks, +bits of string, and horse-ponds. Smith rolled the word 'rat-poison' +luxuriously round his tongue. Shawyer, who was something of an expert +on the range, babbled of air-guns. + +At tea on the following evening the first really serious engagement of +the campaign took place. The cat strolled into the tea-room in the +patronizing way characteristic of his kind, but was heavily shelled +with lump-sugar, and beat a rapid retreat. That was the signal for the +outbreak of serious hostilities. From that moment its paw was against +every man, and the tale of the things it stole is too terrible to +relate in detail. It scored all along the line. Like Death in the poem, +it knocked at the doors of the highest and the lowest alike. Or rather, +it did not exactly knock. It came in without knocking. The palace of +the prefect and the hovel of the fag suffered equally. Trentham, the +head of the House, lost sausages to an incredible amount one evening, +and the next day Ripton, of the Lower Third, was robbed of his one ewe +lamb in the shape of half a tin of anchovy paste. Panic reigned. + +It was after this matter of the sausages that a luminous idea occurred +to Trentham. He had been laid up with a slight football accident, and +his family, reading between the lines of his written statement that he +'had got crocked at footer, nothing much, only (rather a nuisance) +might do him out of the House-matches', a notification of mortal +injuries, and seeming to hear a death-rattle through the words 'felt +rather chippy yesterday', had come down _en masse_ to investigate. +_En masse,_ that is to say, with the exception of his father, who +said he was too busy, but felt sure it was nothing serious. ('Why, when +I was a boy, my dear, I used to think nothing of an occasional tumble. +There's nothing the matter with Dick. Why, etc., etc.') + +Trentham's sister was his first visitor. + +'I say,' said he, when he had satisfied her on the subject of his +health, 'would you like to do me a good turn?' + +She intimated that she would be delighted, and asked for details. + +_'Buy the beak's cat,'_ hissed Trentham, in a hoarse whisper. + +'Dick, it _was_ your leg that you hurt, wasn't it? Not--not your +head?' she replied. 'I mean--' + +'No, I really mean it. Why can't you? It's a perfectly simple thing to +do.' + +'But what _is_ a beak? And why should I buy its cat?' + +'A beak's a master. Surely you know that. You see, Prater's got a cat +lately, and the beast strolls in and raids the studies. Got round over +half a pound of prime sausages in here the other night, and he's always +bagging things everywhere. You'd be doing everyone a kindness if you +would take him on. He'll get lynched some day if you don't. Besides, +you want a cat for your new house, surely. Keep down the mice, and that +sort of thing, you know. This animal's a demon for mice.' This was a +telling argument. Trentham's sister had lately been married, and she +certainly had had some idea of investing in a cat to adorn her home. +'As for beetles,' continued the invalid, pushing home his advantage, +'they simply daren't come out of their lairs for fear of him.' + +'If he eats beetles,' objected his sister, 'he can't have a very good +coat.' + +'He doesn't eat them. Just squashes them, you know, like a policeman. +He's a decent enough beast as far as looks go.' + +'But if he steals things--' + +'No, don't you see, he only does that here, because the Praters don't +interfere with him and don't let us do anything to him. He won't try +that sort of thing on with you. If he does, get somebody to hit him +over the head with a boot-jack or something. He'll soon drop it then. +You might as well, you know. The House'll simply black your boots if +you do.' + +'But would Mr Prater let me have the cat?' + +'Try him, anyhow. Pitch it fairly warm, you know. Only cat you ever +loved, and that sort of thing.' + +'Very well. I'll try.' + +'Thanks, awfully. And, I say, you might just look in here on your way +out and report.' + +Mrs James Williamson, nee Miss Trentham, made her way dutifully to the +Merevale's part of the House. Mrs Prater had expressed a hope that she +would have some tea before catching her train. With tea it is usual to +have milk, and with milk it is usual, if there is a cat in the house, +to have feline society. Captain Kettle, which was the name thought +suitable to this cat by his godfathers and godmothers, was on hand +early. As he stood there pawing the mat impatiently, and mewing in a +minor key, Mrs Williamson felt that here was the cat for her. He +certainly was good to look upon. His black heart was hidden by a sleek +coat of tabby fur, which rendered stroking a luxury. His scheming brain +was out of sight in a shapely head. + +'Oh, what a lovely cat!' said Mrs Williamson. + +'Yes, isn't he,' agreed Mrs Prater. 'We are very proud of him.' + +'Such a beautiful coat!' + +'And such a sweet purr!' + +'He looks so intelligent. Has he any tricks?' + +Had he any tricks! Why, Mrs Williamson, he could do everything except +speak. Captain Kettle, you bad boy, come here and die for your country. +Puss, puss. + +Captain Kettle came at last reluctantly, died for his country in record +time, and flashed back again to the saucer. He had an important +appointment. Sorry to appear rude and all that sort of thing, don't you +know, but he had to see a cat about a mouse. + +'Well?' said Trentham, when his sister looked in upon him an hour +later. + +'Oh, Dick, it's the nicest cat I ever saw. I shall never be happy if I +don't get it.' + +'Have you bought it?' asked the practical Trentham. + +'My dear Dick, I couldn't. We couldn't bargain about a cat during tea. +Why, I never met Mrs Prater before this afternoon.' + +'No, I suppose not,' admitted Trentham, gloomily. 'Anyhow, look here, +if anything turns up to make the beak want to get rid of it, I'll tell +him you're dead nuts on it. See?' + +For a fortnight after this episode matters went on as before. Mrs +Williamson departed, thinking regretfully of the cat she had left +behind her. + +Captain Kettle died for his country with moderate regularity, and on +one occasion, when he attempted to extract some milk from the very +centre of a fag's tea-party, almost died for another reason. Then the +end came suddenly. + +Trentham had been invited to supper one Sunday by Mr Prater. When he +arrived it became apparent to him that the atmosphere was one of +subdued gloom. At first he could not understand this, but soon the +reason was made clear. Captain Kettle had, in the expressive language +of the man in the street, been and gone and done it. He had been left +alone that evening in the drawing-room, while the House was at church, +and his eye, roaming restlessly about in search of evil to perform, had +lighted upon a cage. In that cage was a special sort of canary, in its +own line as accomplished an artiste as Captain Kettle himself. It sang +with taste and feeling, and made itself generally agreeable in a number +of little ways. But to Captain Kettle it was merely a bird. One of the +poets sings of an acquaintance of his who was so constituted that 'a +primrose by the river's brim a simple primrose was to him, and it was +nothing more'. Just so with Captain Kettle. He was not the cat to make +nice distinctions between birds. Like the cat in another poem, he only +knew they made him light and salutary meals. So, with the exercise of +considerable ingenuity, he extracted that canary from its cage and ate +it. He was now in disgrace. + +'We shall have to get rid of him,' said Mr Prater. + +'I'm afraid so,' said Mrs Prater. + +'If you weren't thinking of giving him to anyone in particular, sir,' +said Trentham, 'my sister would be awfully glad to take him, I know. +She was very keen on him when she came to see me.' + +'That's excellent,' said Prater. 'I was afraid we should have to send +him to a home somewhere.' + +'I suppose we can't keep him after all?' suggested Mrs Prater. + +Trentham waited in suspense. + +'No,' said Prater, decidedly. 'I think _not_.' So Captain Kettle +went, and the House knew him no more, and the Tabby Terror was at an +end. + + + + +[12] + +THE PRIZE POEM + + +Some quarter of a century before the period with which this story +deals, a certain rich and misanthropic man was seized with a bright +idea for perpetuating his memory after death, and at the same time +harassing a certain section of mankind. So in his will he set aside a +portion of his income to be spent on an annual prize for the best poem +submitted by a member of the Sixth Form of St Austin's College, on a +subject to be selected by the Headmaster. And, he added--one seems to +hear him chuckling to himself--every member of the form must compete. +Then he died. But the evil that men do lives after them, and each year +saw a fresh band of unwilling bards goaded to despair by his bequest. +True, there were always one or two who hailed this ready market for +their sonnets and odes with joy. But the majority, being barely able to +rhyme 'dove' with 'love', regarded the annual announcement of the +subject chosen with feelings of the deepest disgust. + +The chains were thrown off after a period of twenty-seven years in this +fashion. + +Reynolds of the Remove was indirectly the cause of the change. He was +in the infirmary, convalescing after an attack of German measles, when +he received a visit from Smith, an ornament of the Sixth. + +'By Jove,' remarked that gentleman, gazing enviously round the +sick-room, 'they seem to do you pretty well here.' + +'Yes, not bad, is it? Take a seat. Anything been happening lately?' + +'Nothing much. I suppose you know we beat the M.C.C. by a wicket?' + +'Yes, so I heard. Anything else?' + +'Prize poem,' said Smith, without enthusiasm. He was not a poet. + +Reynolds became interested at once. If there was one role in which he +fancied himself (and, indeed, there were a good many), it was that of a +versifier. His great ambition was to see some of his lines in print, +and he had contracted the habit of sending them up to various +periodicals, with no result, so far, except the arrival of rejected +MSS. at meal-times in embarrassingly long envelopes. Which he +blushingly concealed with all possible speed. + +'What's the subject this year?' he asked. + +'The College--of all idiotic things.' + +'Couldn't have a better subject for an ode. By Jove, I wish I was in +the Sixth.' + +'Wish I was in the infirmary,' said Smith. + +Reynolds was struck with an idea. + +'Look here, Smith,' he said, 'if you like I'll do you a poem, and you +can send it up. If it gets the prize--' + +'Oh, it won't get the prize,' Smith put in eagerly. 'Rogers is a cert. +for that.' + +'If it gets the prize,' repeated Reynolds, with asperity, 'you'll have +to tell the Old Man all about it. He'll probably curse a bit, but that +can't be helped. How's this for a beginning? + + "Imposing pile, reared up 'midst pleasant grounds, + The scene of many a battle, lost or won, + At cricket or at football; whose red walls + Full many a sun has kissed 'ere day is done."' + +'Grand. Couldn't you get in something about the M.C.C. match? You could +make cricket rhyme with wicket.' Smith sat entranced with his +ingenuity, but the other treated so material a suggestion with scorn. + +'Well,' said Smith, 'I must be off now. We've got a House-match on. +Thanks awfully about the poem.' + +Left to himself, Reynolds set himself seriously to the composing of an +ode that should do him justice. That is to say, he drew up a chair and +table to the open window, wrote down the lines he had already composed, +and began chewing a pen. After a few minutes he wrote another four +lines, crossed them out, and selected a fresh piece of paper. He then +copied out his first four lines again. After eating his pen to a stump, +he jotted down the two words 'boys' and 'joys' at the end of separate +lines. This led him to select a third piece of paper, on which he +produced a sort of _edition de luxe_ in his best handwriting, with +the title 'Ode to the College' in printed letters at the top. He was +admiring the neat effect of this when the door opened suddenly and +violently, and Mrs Lee, a lady of advanced years and energetic habits, +whose duty it was to minister to the needs of the sick and wounded in +the infirmary, entered with his tea. Mrs Lee's method of entering a +room was in accordance with the advice of the Psalmist, where he says, +'Fling wide the gates'. She flung wide the gate of the sick-room, and +the result was that what is commonly called 'a thorough draught' was +established. The air was thick with flying papers, and when calm at +length succeeded storm, two editions of 'Ode to the College' were lying +on the grass outside. + +Reynolds attacked the tea without attempting to retrieve his vanished +work. Poetry is good, but tea is better. Besides, he argued within +himself, he remembered all he had written, and could easily write it +out again. So, as far as he was concerned, those three sheets of paper +were a closed book. + +Later on in the afternoon, Montgomery of the Sixth happened to be +passing by the infirmary, when Fate, aided by a sudden gust of wind, +blew a piece of paper at him. 'Great Scott,' he observed, as his eye +fell on the words 'Ode to the College'. Montgomery, like Smith, was no +expert in poetry. He had spent a wretched afternoon trying to hammer +out something that would pass muster in the poem competition, but +without the least success. There were four lines on the paper. Two +more, and it would be a poem, and capable of being entered for the +prize as such. The words 'imposing pile', with which the fragment in +his hand began, took his fancy immensely. A poetic afflatus seized him, +and in less than three hours he had added the necessary couplet, + + How truly sweet it is for such as me + To gaze on thee. + +'And dashed neat, too,' he said, with satisfaction, as he threw the +manuscript into his drawer. 'I don't know whether "me" shouldn't be +"I", but they'll have to lump it. It's a poem, anyhow, within the +meaning of the act.' And he strolled off to a neighbour's study to +borrow a book. + +Two nights afterwards, Morrison, also of the Sixth, was enjoying his +usual during prep siesta in his study. A tap at the door roused him. +Hastily seizing a lexicon, he assumed the attitude of the seeker after +knowledge, and said, 'Come in.' It was not the House-master, but Evans, +Morrison's fag, who entered with pride on his face and a piece of paper +in his hand. + +'I say,' he began, 'you remember you told me to hunt up some tags for +the poem. Will this do?' + +Morrison took the paper with a judicial air. On it were the words: + + Imposing pile, reared up 'midst pleasant grounds, + The scene of many a battle, lost or won, + At cricket or at football; whose red walls + Full many a sun has kissed 'ere day is done. + +'That's ripping, as far as it goes,' said Morrison. 'Couldn't be +better. You'll find some apples in that box. Better take a few. But +look here,' with sudden suspicion, 'I don't believe you made all this +up yourself. Did you?' + +Evans finished selecting his apples before venturing on a reply. Then +he blushed, as much as a member of the junior school is capable of +blushing. + +'Well,' he said, 'I didn't exactly. You see, you only told me to get +the tags. You didn't say how.' + +'But how did you get hold of this? Whose is it?' + +'Dunno. I found it in the field between the Pavilion and the +infirmary.' + +'Oh! well, it doesn't matter much. They're just what I wanted, which is +the great thing. Thanks. Shut the door, will you?' Whereupon Evans +retired, the richer by many apples, and Morrison resumed his siesta at +the point where he had left off. + +'Got that poem done yet?' said Smith to Reynolds, pouring out a cup of +tea for the invalid on the following Sunday. + +'Two lumps, please. No, not quite.' + +'Great Caesar, man, when'll it be ready, do you think? It's got to go +in tomorrow.' + +'Well, I'm really frightfully sorry, but I got hold of a grand book. +Ever read--?' + +'Isn't any of it done?' asked Smith. + +'Only the first verse, I'm afraid. But, look here, you aren't keen on +getting the prize. Why not send in only the one verse? It makes a +fairly decent poem.' + +'Hum! Think the Old 'Un'll pass it?' + +'He'll have to. There's nothing in the rules about length. Here it is +if you want it.' + +'Thanks. I suppose it'll be all right? So long! I must be off.' + +The Headmaster, known to the world as the Rev. Arthur James Perceval, +M.A., and to the School as the Old 'Un, was sitting at breakfast, +stirring his coffee, with a look of marked perplexity upon his +dignified face. This was not caused by the coffee, which was excellent, +but by a letter which he held in his left hand. + +'Hum!' he said. Then 'Umph!' in a protesting tone, as if someone had +pinched him. Finally, he gave vent to a long-drawn 'Um-m-m,' in a deep +bass. 'Most extraordinary. Really, most extraordinary. Exceedingly. +Yes. Um. Very.' He took a sip of coffee. + +'My dear,' said he, suddenly. Mrs Perceval started violently. She had +been sketching out in her mind a little dinner, and wondering whether +the cook would be equal to it. + +'Yes,' she said. + +'My dear, this is a very extraordinary communication. Exceedingly so. +Yes, very.' + +'Who is it from?' + +Mr Perceval shuddered. He was a purist in speech. '_From whom_, +you should say. It is from Mr Wells, a great College friend of mine. +I--ah--submitted to him for examination the poems sent in for the Sixth +Form Prize. He writes in a very flippant style. I must say, very +flippant. This is his letter:--"Dear Jimmy (really, really, he should +remember that we are not so young as we were); dear--ahem--Jimmy. The +poems to hand. I have read them, and am writing this from my sick-bed. +The doctor tells me I may pull through even yet. There was only one any +good at all, that was Rogers's, which, though--er--squiffy (tut!) in +parts, was a long way better than any of the others. But the most +taking part of the whole programme was afforded by the three comedians, +whose efforts I enclose. You will notice that each begins with exactly +the same four lines. Of course, I deprecate cribbing, but you really +can't help admiring this sort of thing. There is a reckless daring +about it which is simply fascinating. A horrible thought--have they +been pulling your dignified leg? By the way, do you remember"--the rest +of the letter is--er--on different matters.' + +'James! How extraordinary!' + +'Um, yes. I am reluctant to suspect--er--collusion, but really here +there can be no doubt. No doubt at all. No.' + +'Unless,' began Mrs Perceval, tentatively. 'No doubt at all, my dear,' +snapped Reverend Jimmy. He did not wish to recall the other +possibility, that his dignified leg was being pulled. + +'Now, for what purpose did I summon you three boys?' asked Mr Perceval, +of Smith, Montgomery, and Morrison, in his room after morning school +that day. He generally began a painful interview with this question. +The method had distinct advantages. If the criminal were of a nervous +disposition, he would give himself away upon the instant. In any case, +it was likely to startle him. 'For what purpose?' repeated the +Headmaster, fixing Smith with a glittering eye. + +'I will tell you,' continued Mr Perceval. 'It was because I desired +information, which none but you can supply. How comes it that each of +your compositions for the Poetry Prize commences with the same four +lines?' The three poets looked at one another in speechless +astonishment. + +'Here,' he resumed, 'are the three papers. Compare them. Now,'--after +the inspection was over--' what explanation have you to offer? Smith, +are these your lines?' + +'I--er--ah--_wrote_ them, sir.' + +'Don't prevaricate, Smith. Are you the author of those lines?' + +'No, sir.' + +'Ah! Very good. Are you, Montgomery?' + +'No, sir.' + +'Very good. Then you, Morrison, are exonerated from all blame. You have +been exceedingly badly treated. The first-fruit of your brain has +been--ah--plucked by others, who toiled not neither did they spin. You +can go, Morrison.' + +'But, sir--' + +'Well, Morrison?' + +'I didn't write them, sir.' + +'I--ah--don't quite understand you, Morrison. You say that you are +indebted to another for these lines?' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'To Smith?' + +'No, sir.' + +'To Montgomery?' + +'No, sir.' + +'Then, Morrison, may I ask to whom you are indebted?' + +'I found them in the field on a piece of paper, sir.' He claimed the +discovery himself, because he thought that Evans might possibly prefer +to remain outside this tangle. + +'So did I, sir.' This from Montgomery. Mr Perceval looked bewildered, +as indeed he was. + +'And did you, Smith, also find this poem on a piece of paper in the +field?' There was a metallic ring of sarcasm in his voice. + +'No, sir.' + +'Ah! Then to what circumstance were you indebted for the lines?' + +'I got Reynolds to do them for me, sir.' + +Montgomery spoke. 'It was near the infirmary that I found the paper, +and Reynolds is in there.' + +'So did I, sir,' said Morrison, incoherently. + +'Then am I to understand, Smith, that to gain the prize you resorted to +such underhand means as this?' + +'No, sir, we agreed that there was no danger of my getting the prize. +If I had got it, I should have told you everything. Reynolds will tell +you that, sir.' + +'Then what object had you in pursuing this deception?' + +'Well, sir, the rules say everyone must send in something, and I can't +write poetry at all, and Reynolds likes it, so I asked him to do it.' + +And Smith waited for the storm to burst. But it did not burst. Far down +in Mr Perceval's system lurked a quiet sense of humour. The situation +penetrated to it. Then he remembered the examiner's letter, and it +dawned upon him that there are few crueller things than to make a +prosaic person write poetry. + +'You may go,' he said, and the three went. + +And at the next Board Meeting it was decided, mainly owing to the +influence of an exceedingly eloquent speech from the Headmaster, to +alter the rules for the Sixth Form Poetry Prize, so that from thence +onward no one need compete unless he felt himself filled with the +immortal fire. + + + + +[13] + +WORK + + + With a pleasure that's emphatic + We retire to our attic + With the satisfying feeling that our duty has been done. + + Oh! philosophers may sing + Of the troubles of a king + But of pleasures there are many and of troubles there are none, + And the culminating pleasure + Which we treasure beyond measure + Is the satisfying feeling that our duty has been done. + + _W. S. Gilbert_ + +Work is supposed to be the centre round which school life revolves--the +hub of the school wheel, the lode-star of the schoolboy's existence, +and a great many other things. 'You come to school to work', is the +formula used by masters when sentencing a victim to the wailing and +gnashing of teeth provided by two hours' extra tuition on a hot +afternoon. In this, I think, they err, and my opinion is backed up by +numerous scholars of my acquaintance, who have even gone so far--on +occasions when they themselves have been the victims--as to express +positive disapproval of the existing state of things. In the dear, dead +days (beyond recall), I used often to long to put the case to my +form-master in its only fair aspect, but always refrained from motives +of policy. Masters are so apt to take offence at the well-meant +endeavours of their form to instruct them in the way they should go. + +What I should have liked to have done would have been something after +this fashion. Entering the sanctum of the Headmaster, I should have +motioned him to his seat--if he were seated already, have assured him +that to rise was unnecessary. I should then have taken a seat myself, +taking care to preserve a calm fixity of demeanour, and finally, with a +preliminary cough, I should have embarked upon the following moving +address: 'My dear sir, my dear Reverend Jones or Brown (as the case may +be), believe me when I say that your whole system of work is founded on +a fallacious dream and reeks of rottenness. No, no, I beg that you will +not interrupt me. The real state of the case, if I may say so, is +briefly this: a boy goes to school to enjoy himself, and, on arriving, +finds to his consternation that a great deal more work is expected of +him than he is prepared to do. What course, then, Reverend Jones or +Brown, does he take? He proceeds to do as much work as will steer him +safely between the, ah--I may say, the Scylla of punishment and the +Charybdis of being considered what my, er--fellow-pupils euphoniously +term a swot. That, I think, is all this morning. _Good_ day. Pray +do not trouble to rise. I will find my way out.' I should then have +made for the door, locked it, if possible, on the outside, and, rushing +to the railway station, have taken a through ticket to Spitzbergen or +some other place where Extradition treaties do not hold good. + +But 'twas not mine to play the Tib. Gracchus, to emulate the O. +Cromwell. So far from pouring my opinions like so much boiling oil into +the ear of my task-master, I was content to play the part of audience +while _he_ did the talking, my sole remark being 'Yes'r' at fixed +intervals. + +And yet I knew that I was in the right. My bosom throbbed with the +justice of my cause. For why? The ambition of every human new boy +is surely to become like J. Essop of the First Eleven, who can hit a +ball over two ponds, a wood, and seven villages, rather than to +resemble that pale young student, Mill-Stuart, who, though he can +speak Sanskrit like a native of Sanskritia, couldn't score a single +off a slow long-hop. + +And this ambition is a laudable one. For the athlete is the product of +nature--a step towards the more perfect type of animal, while the +scholar is the outcome of artificiality. What, I ask, does the scholar +gain, either morally or physically, or in any other way, by knowing who +was tribune of the people in 284 BC or what is the precise difference +between the various constructions of _cum_? It is not as if +ignorance of the tribune's identity caused him any mental unrest. In +short, what excuse is there for the student? 'None,' shrieks Echo +enthusiastically. 'None whatever.' + +Our children are being led to ruin by this system. They will become +dons and think in Greek. The victim of the craze stops at nothing. He +puns in Latin. He quips and quirks in Ionic and Doric. In the worst +stages of the disease he will edit Greek plays and say that Merry quite +misses the fun of the passage, or that Jebb is mediocre. Think, I beg +of you, paterfamilias, and you, mater ditto, what your feelings would +be were you to find Henry or Archibald Cuthbert correcting proofs of +_The Agamemnon_, and inventing 'nasty ones' for Mr Sidgwick! Very +well then. Be warned. + +Our bright-eyed lads are taught insane constructions in Greek and Latin +from morning till night, and they come for their holidays, in many +cases, without the merest foundation of a batting style. Ask them what +a Yorker is, and they will say: 'A man from York, though I presume you +mean a Yorkshireman.' They will read Herodotus without a dictionary for +pleasure, but ask them to translate the childishly simple sentence: +'Trott was soon in his timber-yard with a length 'un that whipped +across from the off,' and they'll shrink abashed and swear they have +not skill at that, as Gilbert says. + +The papers sometimes contain humorous forecasts of future education, +when cricket and football shall come to their own. They little know the +excellence of the thing they mock at. When we get schools that teach +nothing but games, then will the sun definitely refuse to set on the +roast beef of old England. May it be soon. Some day, mayhap, I shall +gather my great-great-grandsons round my knee, and tell them--as one +tells tales of Faery--that I can remember the time when Work was +considered the be-all and the end-all of a school career. Perchance, +when my great-great-grandson John (called John after the famous Jones +of that name) has brought home the prize for English Essay on 'Rugby +_v._ Association', I shall pat his head (gently) and the tears +will come to my old eyes as I recall the time when I, too, might have +won a prize--for that obsolete subject, Latin Prose--and was only +prevented by the superior excellence of my thirty-and-one fellow +students, coupled, indeed, with my own inability to conjugate +_sum._ + +Such days, I say, may come. But now are the Dark Ages. The only thing +that can possibly make Work anything but an unmitigated nuisance is the +prospect of a 'Varsity scholarship, and the thought that, in the event +of failure, a 'Varsity career will be out of the question. + +With this thought constantly before him, the student can put a certain +amount of enthusiasm into his work, and even go to the length of rising +at five o'clock o' mornings to drink yet deeper of the cup of +knowledge. I have done it myself. 'Varsity means games and yellow +waistcoats and Proctors, and that sort of thing. It is worth working +for. + +But for the unfortunate individual who is barred by circumstances from +participating in these joys, what inducement is there to work? Is such +a one to leave the school nets in order to stew in a stuffy room over a +Thucydides? I trow not. + +Chapter one of my great forthcoming work, _The Compleat Slacker_, +contains minute instructions on the art of avoiding preparation from +beginning to end of term. Foremost among the words of advice ranks this +maxim: Get an official list of the books you are to do, and examine +them carefully with a view to seeing what it is possible to do unseen. +Thus, if Virgil is among these authors, you can rely on being able to +do him with success. People who ought to know better will tell you that +Virgil is hard. Such a shallow falsehood needs little comment. A +scholar who cannot translate ten lines of _The Aeneid_ between the +time he is put on and the time he begins to speak is unworthy of pity +or consideration, and if I meet him in the street I shall assuredly cut +him. Aeschylus, on the other hand, is a demon, and needs careful +watching, though in an emergency you can always say the reading is +wrong. + +Sometimes the compleat slacker falls into a trap. The saddest case I +can remember is that of poor Charles Vanderpoop. He was a bright young +lad, and showed some promise of rising to heights as a slacker. He fell +in this fashion. One Easter term his form had half-finished a speech of +Demosthenes, and the form-master gave them to understand that they +would absorb the rest during the forthcoming term. Charles, being +naturally anxious to do as little work as possible during the summer +months, spent his Easter holidays carefully preparing this speech, so +as to have it ready in advance. What was his horror, on returning to +School at the appointed date, to find that they were going to throw +Demosthenes over altogether, and patronize Plato. Threats, entreaties, +prayers--all were accounted nothing by the master who had led him into +this morass of troubles. It is believed that the shock destroyed his +reason. At any rate, the fact remains that that term (the summer term, +mark you) he won two prizes. In the following term he won three. To +recapitulate his outrages from that time to the present were a +harrowing and unnecessary task. Suffice it that he is now a Regius +Professor, and I saw in the papers a short time ago that a lecture of +his on 'The Probable Origin of the Greek Negative', created quite a +_furore_. If this is not Tragedy with a big T, I should like to +know what it is. + +As an exciting pastime, unseen translation must rank very high. +Everyone who has ever tried translating unseen must acknowledge that +all other forms of excitement seem but feeble makeshifts after it. I +have, in the course of a career of sustained usefulness to the human +race, had my share of thrills. I have asked a strong and busy porter, +at Paddington, when the Brighton train started. I have gone for the +broad-jump record in trying to avoid a motor-car. I have played +Spillikins and Ping-Pong. But never again have I felt the excitement +that used to wander athwart my moral backbone when I was put on to +translate a passage containing a notorious _crux_ and seventeen +doubtful readings, with only that innate genius, which is the wonder of +the civilized world, to pull me through. And what a glow of pride one +feels when it is all over; when one has made a glorious, golden guess +at the _crux_, and trampled the doubtful readings under foot with +inspired ease. It is like a day at the seaside. + +Work is bad enough, but Examinations are worse, especially the Board +Examinations. By doing from ten to twenty minutes prep every night, the +compleat slacker could get through most of the term with average +success. Then came the Examinations. The dabbler in unseen translations +found himself caught as in a snare. Gone was the peaceful security in +which he had lulled to rest all the well-meant efforts of his guardian +angel to rouse him to a sense of his duties. There, right in front of +him, yawned the abyss of Retribution. + +Alas! poor slacker. I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of +most excellent fancy. Where be his gibes now? How is he to cope with +the fiendish ingenuity of the examiners? How is he to master the +contents of a book of Thucydides in a couple of days? It is a fearsome +problem. Perhaps he will get up in the small hours and work by candle +light from two till eight o'clock. In this case he will start his day a +mental and physical wreck. Perhaps he will try to work and be led away +by the love of light reading. + +In any case he will fail to obtain enough marks to satisfy the +examiners, though whether examiners ever are satisfied, except by Harry +the hero of the school story (Every Lad's Library, uniform edition, 2s +6d), is rather a doubtful question. + +In such straits, matters resolve themselves into a sort of drama with +three characters. We will call our hero Smith. + +_Scene:_ a Study + +_Dramatis Personae:_ + SMITH + CONSCIENCE + MEPHISTOPHELES + +_Enter_ SMITH (_down centre_) + +_He seats himself at table and opens a Thucydides._ + +_Enter_ CONSCIENCE _through ceiling_ (R.), MEPHISTOPHELES +_through floor_ (L.). + +CONSCIENCE (_with a kindly smile_): Precisely what I was about to +remark, my dear lad. A little Thucydides would be a very good thing. +Thucydides, as you doubtless know, was a very famous Athenian +historian. Date? + +SMITH: Er--um--let me see. + +MEPH. (_aside_): Look in the Introduction and pretend you did it +by accident. + +SMITH (_having done so_): 431 B.C. _circ_. + +CONSCIENCE _wipes away a tear_. + +CONSCIENCE: Thucydides made himself a thorough master of the concisest +of styles. + +MEPH.: And in doing so became infernally obscure. Excuse shop. + +SMITH (_gloomily_): Hum! + +MEPH. (_sneeringly_): Ha! + +_Long pause_. + +CONSCIENCE (_gently_): Do you not think, my dear lad, that you had +better begin? Time and tide, as you are aware, wait for no man. And-- + +SMITH: Yes? + +CONSCIENCE: You have not, I fear, a very firm grasp of the subject. +However, if you work hard till eleven-- + +SMITH (_gloomily_): Hum! Three hours! + +MEPH. (_cheerily_): Exactly so. Three hours. A little more if +anything. By the way, excuse me asking, but have you prepared the +subject thoroughly during the term? + +SMITH: My _dear_ sir! Of _course!_ + +CONSCIENCE (_reprovingly_):???!!??! + +SMITH: Well, perhaps, not quite so much as I might have done. Such a +lot of things to do this term. Cricket, for instance. + +MEPH.: Rather. Talking of cricket, you seemed to be shaping rather well +last Saturday. I had just run up on business, and someone told me you +made eighty not out. Get your century all right? + +SMITH (_brightening at the recollection_): Just a bit--117 not +out. I hit--but perhaps you've heard? + +MEPH.: Not at all, not at all. Let's hear all about it. + +_CONSCIENCE seeks to interpose, but is prevented by MEPH., who eggs +SMITH on to talk cricket for over an hour._ + +CONSCIENCE _(at last; in an acid voice)_: That is a history of the +Peloponnesian War by Thucydides on the table in front of you. I thought +I would mention it, in case you had forgotten. + +SMITH: Great Scott, yes! Here, I say, I must start. + +CONSCIENCE: Hear! Hear! + +MEPH. _(insinuatingly)_: One moment. Did you say you _had_ +prepared this book during the term? Afraid I'm a little hard of +hearing. Eh, what? + +SMITH: Well--er--no, I have not. Have you ever played billiards with a +walking-stick and five balls? + +MEPH.: Quite so, quite so. I quite understand. Don't you distress +yourself, old chap. You obviously can't get through a whole book of +Thucydides in under two hours, can you? + +CONSCIENCE _(severely)_: He might, by attentive application to +study, master a considerable portion of the historian's _chef +d'oeuvre_ in that time. + +MEPH.: Yes, and find that not one of the passages he had prepared was +set in the paper. + +CONSCIENCE: At the least, he would, if he were to pursue the course +which I have indicated, greatly benefit his mind. + +MEPH. _gives a short, derisive laugh. Long pause._ + +MEPH. _(looking towards bookshelf)_: Hullo, you've got a decent +lot of books, pommy word you have. _Rodney Stone, Vice Versa, Many +Cargoes._ Ripping. Ever read _Many Cargoes?_ + +CONSCIENCE _(glancing at his watch)_: I am sorry, but I must +really go now. I will see you some other day. + +_Exit sorrowfully._ + +MEPH.: Well, thank goodness _he's_ gone. Never saw such a fearful +old bore in my life. Can't think why you let him hang on to you so. We +may as well make a night of it now, eh? No use your trying to work at +this time of night. + +SMITH: Not a bit. + +MEPH.: Did you say you'd not read _Many Cargoes?_ + +SMITH: Never. Only got it today. Good? + +MEPH.: Simply ripping. All short stories. Make you yell. + +SMITH _(with a last effort)_: But don't you think-- + +MEPH.: Oh no. Besides, you can easily get up early tomorrow for the +Thucydides. + +SMITH: Of course I can. Never thought of that. Heave us _Many +Cargoes._ Thanks. + +_Begins to read. MEPH. grins fiendishly, and vanishes through floor +enveloped in red flame. Sobbing heard from the direction of the +ceiling. + +Scene closes._ + +Next morning, of course, he will oversleep himself, and his Thucydides +paper will be of such a calibre that that eminent historian will writhe +in his grave. + + + + +[14] + +NOTES + + + Of all forms of lettered effusiveness, that which exploits the + original work of others and professes to supply us with right + opinions thereanent is the least wanted. + + _Kenneth Grahame_ + +It has always seemed to me one of the worst flaws in our mistaken +social system, that absolutely no distinction is made between the +master who forces the human boy to take down notes from dictation and +the rest of mankind. I mean that, if in a moment of righteous +indignation you rend such a one limb from limb, you will almost +certainly be subjected to the utmost rigour of the law, and you will be +lucky if you escape a heavy fine of five or ten shillings, exclusive of +the costs of the case. Now, this is not right on the face of it. It is +even wrong. The law should take into account the extreme provocation +which led to the action. Punish if you will the man who travels +second-class with a third-class ticket, or who borrows a pencil and +forgets to return it; but there are occasions when justice should be +tempered with mercy, and this murdering of pedagogues is undoubtedly +such an occasion. + +It should be remembered, however, that there are two varieties of +notes. The printed notes at the end of your Thucydides or Homer are +distinctly useful when they aim at acting up to their true vocation, +namely, the translating of difficult passages or words. Sometimes, +however, the author will insist on airing his scholarship, and instead +of translations he supplies parallel passages, which neither interest, +elevate, nor amuse the reader. This, of course, is mere vanity. The +author, sitting in his comfortable chair with something short within +easy reach, recks nothing of the misery he is inflicting on hundreds of +people who have done him no harm at all. He turns over the pages of his +book of _Familiar Quotations_ with brutal callousness, and for +every tricky passage in the work which he is editing, finds and makes a +note of three or four even trickier ones from other works. Who has not +in his time been brought face to face with a word which defies +translation? There are two courses open to you on such an occasion, to +look the word up in the lexicon, or in the notes. You, of course, turn +up the notes, and find: 'See line 80.' You look up line 80, hoping to +see a translation, and there you are told that a rather similar +construction occurs in Xenophades' _Lyrics from a Padded Cell_. On +this, the craven of spirit will resort to the lexicon, but the man of +mettle will close his book with an emphatic bang, and refuse to have +anything more to do with it. Of a different sort are the notes which +simply translate the difficulty and subside. These are a boon to the +scholar. Without them it would be almost impossible to prepare one's +work during school, and we should be reduced to the prosaic expedient +of working in prep. time. What we want is the commentator who +translates _mensa_ as 'a table' without giving a page and a half +of notes on the uses of the table in ancient Greece, with an excursus +on the habit common in those times of retiring underneath it after +dinner, and a list of the passages in Apollonius Rhodius where the word +'table' is mentioned. + +These voluminous notes are apt to prove a nuisance in more ways than +one. Your average master is generally inordinately fond of them, and +will frequently ask some member of the form to read his note on +so-and-so out to his fellows. This sometimes leads to curious results, +as it is hardly to be expected that the youth called upon will be +attending, even if he is awake, which is unlikely. On one occasion +an acquaintance of mine, 'whose name I am not at liberty to divulge', +was suddenly aware that he was being addressed, and, on giving the +matter his attention, found that it was the form-master asking him to +read out his note on _Balbus murum aedificavit_. My friend is a +kind-hearted youth and of an obliging disposition, and would willingly +have done what was asked of him, but there were obstacles, first and +foremost of which ranked the fact that, taking advantage of his +position on the back desk (whither he thought the basilisk eye of +Authority could not reach), he had substituted _Bab Ballads_ for +the words of Virgil, and was engrossed in the contents of that modern +classic. The subsequent explanations lasted several hours. In fact, it +is probable that the master does not understand the facts of the case +thoroughly even now. It is true that he called him a 'loathsome, slimy, +repulsive toad', but even this seems to fall short of the grandeur of +the situation. + +Those notes, also, which are, alas! only too common nowadays, that deal +with peculiarities of grammar, how supremely repulsive they are! It is +impossible to glean any sense from them, as the Editor mixes up +Nipperwick's view with Sidgeley's reasoning and Spreckendzedeutscheim's +surmise with Donnerundblitzendorf's conjecture in a way that seems to +argue a thorough unsoundness of mind and morals, a cynical insanity +combined with a blatant indecency. He occasionally starts in a +reasonable manner by giving one view as (1) and the next as (2). So far +everyone is happy and satisfied. The trouble commences when he has +occasion to refer back to some former view, when he will say: 'Thus we +see (1) and (14) that,' etc. The unlucky student puts a finger on the +page to keep the place, and hunts up view one. Having found this, and +marked the spot with another finger, he proceeds to look up view +fourteen. He places another finger on this, and reads on, as follows: +'Zmpe, however, maintains that Schrumpff (see 3) is practically insane, +that Spleckzh (see 34) is only a little better, and that Rswkg (see 97 +a (b) C3) is so far from being right that his views may be dismissed as +readily as those of Xkryt (see 5x).' At this point brain-fever sets in, +the victim's last coherent thought being a passionate wish for more +fingers. A friend of mine who was the wonder of all who knew him, in +that he was known to have scored ten per cent in one of these papers on +questions like the above, once divulged to an interviewer the fact that +he owed his success to his methods of learning rather than to his +ability. On the night before an exam, he would retire to some secret, +solitary place, such as the boot-room, and commence learning these +notes by heart. This, though a formidable task, was not so bad as the +other alternative. The result was that, although in the majority of +cases he would put down for one question an answer that would have been +right for another, yet occasionally, luck being with him, he would hit +the mark. Hence his ten per cent. + +Another fruitful source of discomfort is provided by the type of master +who lectures on a subject for half an hour, and then, with a bland +smile, invites, or rather challenges, his form to write a 'good, long +note' on the quintessence of his discourse. For the inexperienced this +is an awful moment. They must write something--but what? For the last +half hour they have been trying to impress the master with the fact +that they belong to the class of people who can always listen best with +their eyes closed. Nor poppy, nor mandragora, nor all the drowsy syrups +of the world can ever medicine them to that sweet sleep that they have +just been enjoying. And now they must write a 'good, long note'. It is +in such extremities that your veteran shows up well. He does not betray +any discomfort. Not he. He rather enjoys the prospect, in fact, of +being permitted to place the master's golden eloquence on paper. So he +takes up his pen with alacrity. No need to think what to write. He +embarks on an essay concerning the master, showing up all his flaws in +a pitiless light, and analysing his thorough worthlessness of +character. On so congenial a subject he can, of course, write reams, +and as the master seldom, if ever, desires to read the 'good, long +note', he acquires a well-earned reputation for attending in school and +being able to express himself readily with his pen. _Vivat +floreatque_. + +But all these forms of notes are as nothing compared with the notes +that youths even in this our boasted land of freedom are forced to take +down from dictation. Of the 'good, long note' your French scholar might +well remark: '_C'est terrible_', but justice would compel him to +add, as he thought of the dictation note: '_mais ce n'est pas le +diable_'. For these notes from dictation are, especially on a warm +day, indubitably _le diable_. + +Such notes are always dictated so rapidly that it is impossible to do +anything towards understanding them as you go. You have to write your +hardest to keep up. The beauty of this, from one point of view, is +that, if you miss a sentence, you have lost the thread of the whole +thing, and it is useless to attempt to take it up again at once. The +only plan is to wait for some perceptible break in the flow of words, +and dash in like lightning. It is much the same sort of thing as +boarding a bus when in motion. And so you can take a long rest, +provided you are in an obscure part of the room. In passing, I might +add that a very pleasing indoor game can be played by asking the +master, 'what came after so-and-so?' mentioning a point of the oration +some half-hour back. This always provides a respite of a few minutes +while he is thinking of some bitter repartee worthy of the occasion, +and if repeated several times during an afternoon may cause much +innocent merriment. + +Of course, the real venom that lurks hid within notes from dictation +does not appear until the time for examination arrives. Then you find +yourself face to face with sixty or seventy closely and badly written +pages of a note-book, all of which must be learnt by heart if you would +aspire to the dizzy heights of half-marks. It is useless to tell your +examiner that you had no chance of getting up the subject. 'Why,' he +will reply, 'I gave you notes on that very thing myself.' 'You did, +sir,' you say, as you advance stealthily upon him, 'but as you dictated +those notes at the rate of two hundred words a minute, and as my brain, +though large, is not capable of absorbing sixty pages of a note-book in +one night, how the suggestively asterisked aposiopesis do you expect me +to know them? Ah-h-h!' The last word is a war-cry, as you fling +yourself bodily on him, and tear him courteously, but firmly, into +minute fragments. Experience, which, as we all know, teaches, will in +time lead you into adopting some method by which you may evade this +taking of notes. A good plan is to occupy yourself with the composition +of a journal, an unofficial magazine not intended for the eyes of the +profane, but confined rigidly to your own circle of acquaintances. The +chief advantage of such a work is that you will continue to write while +the notes are being dictated. To throw your pen down with an air of +finality and begin reading some congenial work of fiction would be a +gallant action, but impolitic. No, writing of some sort is essential, +and as it is out of the question to take down the notes, what better +substitute than an unofficial journal could be found? To one whose +contributions to the School magazine are constantly being cut down to +mere skeletons by the hands of censors, there is a rapture otherwise +unattainable in a page of really scurrilous items about those in +authority. Try it yourselves, my beamish lads. Think of something +really bad about somebody. Write it down and gloat over it. Sometimes, +indeed, it is of the utmost use in determining your future career. You +will probably remember those Titanic articles that appeared at the +beginning of the war in _The Weekly Luggage-Train_, dealing with +all the crimes of the War Office--the generals, the soldiers, the +enemy--of everybody, in fact, except the editor, staff and office-boy +of _The W.L.T._ Well, the writer of those epoch-making articles +confesses that he owes all his skill to his early training, when, a +happy lad at his little desk in school, he used to write trenchantly in +his note-book on the subject of the authorities. There is an example +for you. Of course we can never be like him, but let, oh! let us be as +like him as we're able to be. A final word to those lost ones who +dictate the notes. Why are our ears so constantly assailed with +unnecessary explanations of, and opinions on, English literature? Prey +upon the Classics if you will. It is a revolting habit, but too common +to excite overmuch horror. But surely anybody, presupposing a certain +bias towards sanity, can understand the Classics of our own language, +with the exception, of course, of Browning. Take Tennyson, for example. +How often have we been forced to take down from dictation the miserable +maunderings of some commentator on the subject of _Maud_. A person +reads _Maud_, and either likes it or dislikes it. In any case his +opinion is not likely to be influenced by writing down at express speed +the opinions of somebody else concerning the methods or objectivity and +subjectivity of the author when he produced the work. + +Somebody told me a short time ago that Shelley was an example of +supreme, divine, superhuman genius. It is the sort of thing Mr +Gilbert's 'rapturous maidens' might have said: 'How Botticellian! How +Fra Angelican! How perceptively intense and consummately utter!' There +is really no material difference. + + + + +[15] + +NOW, TALKING ABOUT CRICKET-- + + +In the days of yore, when these white hairs were brown--or was it +black? At any rate, they were not white--and I was at school, it was +always my custom, when Fate obliged me to walk to school with a casual +acquaintance, to whom I could not unburden my soul of those profound +thoughts which even then occupied my mind, to turn the struggling +conversation to the relative merits of cricket and football. + +'Do you like cricket better than footer?' was my formula. Now, though +at the time, in order to save fruitless argument, I always agreed with +my companion, and praised the game he praised, in the innermost depths +of my sub-consciousness, cricket ranked a long way in front of all +other forms of sport. I may be wrong. More than once in my career it +has been represented to me that I couldn't play cricket for nuts. My +captain said as much when I ran him out in _the_ match of the +season after he had made forty-nine and looked like stopping. A bowling +acquaintance heartily endorsed his opinion on the occasion of my +missing three catches off him in one over. This, however, I attribute +to prejudice, for the man I missed ultimately reached his century, +mainly off the deliveries of my bowling acquaintance. I pointed out to +him that, had I accepted any one of the three chances, we should have +missed seeing the prettiest century made on the ground that season; but +he was one of those bowlers who sacrifice all that is beautiful in the +game to mere wickets. A sordid practice. + +Later on, the persistence with which my county ignored my claims to +inclusion in the team, convinced me that I must leave cricket fame to +others. True, I did figure, rather prominently, too, in one county +match. It was at the Oval, Surrey _v_. Middlesex. How well I +remember that occasion! Albert Trott was bowling (Bertie we used to +call him); I forget who was batting. Suddenly the ball came soaring in +my direction. I was not nervous. I put down the sandwich I was eating, +rose from my seat, picked the ball up neatly, and returned it with +unerring aim to a fieldsman who was waiting for it with becoming +deference. Thunders of applause went up from the crowded ring. + +That was the highest point I ever reached in practical cricket. But, as +the historian says of Mr Winkle, a man may be an excellent sportsman in +theory, even if he fail in practice. That's me. Reader (if any), have +you ever played cricket in the passage outside your study with a +walking-stick and a ball of paper? That's the game, my boy, for testing +your skill of wrist and eye. A century _v_. the M.C.C. is well +enough in its way, but give me the man who can watch 'em in a narrow +passage, lit only by a flickering gas-jet--one for every hit, four if +it reaches the end, and six if it goes downstairs full-pitch, any pace +bowling allowed. To make double figures in such a match is to taste +life. Only you had better do your tasting when the House-master is out +for the evening. + +I like to watch the young cricket idea shooting. I refer to the lower +games, where 'next man in' umpires with his pads on, his loins girt, +and a bat in his hand. Many people have wondered why it is that no +budding umpire can officiate unless he holds a bat. For my part, I +think there is little foundation for the theory that it is part of a +semi-religious rite, on the analogy of the Freemasons' special +handshake and the like. Nor do I altogether agree with the authorities +who allege that man, when standing up, needs something as a prop or +support. There is a shadow of reason, I grant, in this supposition, but +after years of keen observation I am inclined to think that the umpire +keeps his bat by him, firstly, in order that no unlicensed hand shall +commandeer it unbeknownst, and secondly, so that he shall be ready to +go in directly his predecessor is out. There is an ill-concealed +restiveness about his movements, as he watches the batsmen getting set, +that betrays an overwrought spirit. Then of a sudden one of them plays +a ball on to his pad. '_'s that_?' asks the bowler, with an +overdone carelessness. 'Clean out. Now _I'm_ in,' and already he +is rushing up the middle of the pitch to take possession. When he gets +to the wicket a short argument ensues. 'Look here, you idiot, I hit it +hard.' 'Rot, man, out of the way.' '!!??!' 'Look here, Smith, +_are_ you going to dispute the umpire's decision?' Chorus of +fieldsmen: 'Get out, Smith, you ass. You've been given out years ago.' +Overwhelmed by popular execration, Smith reluctantly departs, +registering in the black depths of his soul a resolution to take on the +umpireship at once, with a view to gaining an artistic revenge by +giving his enemy run out on the earliest possible occasion. There is a +primeval _insouciance_ about this sort of thing which is as +refreshing to a mind jaded with the stiff formality of professional +umpires as a cold shower-bath. + +I have made a special study of last-wicket men; they are divided into +two classes, the deplorably nervous, or the outrageously confident. The +nervous largely outnumber the confident. The launching of a last-wicket +man, when there are ten to make to win, or five minutes left to make a +draw of a losing game, is fully as impressive a ceremony as the +launching of the latest battleship. An interested crowd harasses the +poor victim as he is putting on his pads. 'Feel in a funk?' asks some +tactless friend. 'N-n-no, norrabit.' 'That's right,' says the captain +encouragingly, 'bowling's as easy as anything.' + +This cheers the wretch up a little, until he remembers suddenly that +the captain himself was distinctly at sea with the despised trundling, +and succumbed to his second ball, about which he obviously had no idea +whatever. At this he breaks down utterly, and, if emotional, will sob +into his batting glove. He is assisted down the Pavilion steps, and +reaches the wickets in a state of collapse. Here, very probably, a +reaction will set in. The sight of the crease often comes as a positive +relief after the vague terrors experienced in the Pavilion. + +The confident last-wicket man, on the other hand, goes forth to battle +with a light quip upon his lips. The lot of a last-wicket batsman, with +a good eye and a sense of humour, is a very enviable one. The +incredulous disgust of the fast bowler, who thinks that at last he may +safely try that slow head-ball of his, and finds it lifted genially +over the leg-boundary, is well worth seeing. I remember in one school +match, the last man, unfortunately on the opposite side, did this three +times in one over, ultimately retiring to a fluky catch in the slips +with forty-one to his name. Nervousness at cricket is a curious thing. +As the author of _Willow the King_, himself a county cricketer, +has said, it is not the fear of getting out that causes funk. It is a +sort of intangible _je ne sais quoi_. I trust I make myself clear. +Some batsmen are nervous all through a long innings. With others the +feeling disappears with the first boundary. + +A young lady--it is, of course, not polite to mention her age to the +minute, but it ranged somewhere between eight and ten--was taken to see +a cricket match once. After watching the game with interest for some +time, she gave out this profound truth: 'They all attend specially to +one man.' It would be difficult to sum up the causes of funk more +lucidly and concisely. To be an object of interest is sometimes +pleasant, but when ten fieldsmen, a bowler, two umpires, and countless +spectators are eagerly watching your every movement, the thing becomes +embarrassing. + +That is why it is, on the whole, preferable to be a cricket spectator +rather than a cricket player. No game affords the spectator such unique +opportunities of exerting his critical talents. You may have noticed +that it is always the reporter who knows most about the game. Everyone, +moreover, is at heart a critic, whether he represent the majesty of the +Press or not. From the lady of Hoxton, who crushes her friend's latest +confection with the words, 'My, wot an 'at!' down to that lowest class +of all, the persons who call your attention (in print) to the sinister +meaning of everything Clytemnestra says in _The Agamemnon_, the +whole world enjoys expressing an opinion of its own about something. + +In football you are vouchsafed fewer chances. Practically all you can +do is to shout 'off-side' whenever an opponent scores, which affords +but meagre employment for a really critical mind. In cricket, however, +nothing can escape you. Everything must be done in full sight of +everybody. There the players stand, without refuge, simply inviting +criticism. + +It is best, however, not to make one's remarks too loud. If you do, you +call down upon yourself the attention of others, and are yourself +criticized. I remember once, when I was of tender years, watching a +school match, and one of the batsmen lifted a ball clean over the +Pavilion. This was too much for my sensitive and critical young mind. +'On the carpet, sir,' I shouted sternly, well up in the treble clef, +'keep 'em on the carpet.' I will draw a veil. Suffice it to say that I +became a sport and derision, and was careful for the future to +criticize in a whisper. But the reverse by no means crushed me. Even +now I take a melancholy pleasure in watching school matches, and saying +So-and-So will make quite a fair _school-boy_ bat in time, but he +must get rid of that stroke of his on the off, and that shocking +leg-hit, and a few of those _awful_ strokes in the slips, but that +on the whole, he is by no means lacking in promise. I find it +refreshing. If, however, you feel compelled not merely to look on, but +to play, as one often does at schools where cricket is compulsory, it +is impossible to exaggerate the importance of white boots. The game you +play before you get white boots is not cricket, but a weak imitation. +The process of initiation is generally this. One plays in shoes for a +few years with the most dire result, running away to square leg from +fast balls, and so on, till despair seizes the soul. Then an angel in +human form, in the very effective disguise of the man at the school +boot-shop, hints that, for an absurdly small sum in cash, you may +become the sole managing director of a pair of _white buckskin_ +boots with real spikes. You try them on. They fit, and the initiation +is complete. You no longer run away from fast balls. You turn them +neatly off to the boundary. In a word, you begin for the first time to +play the game, the whole game, and nothing but the game. + +There are misguided people who complain that cricket is becoming a +business more than a game, as if that were not the most fortunate thing +that could happen. When it ceases to be a mere business and becomes a +religious ceremony, it will be a sign that the millennium is at hand. +The person who regards cricket as anything less than a business is no +fit companion, gentle reader, for the likes of you and me. As long as +the game goes in his favour the cloven hoof may not show itself. But +give him a good steady spell of leather-hunting, and you will know him +for what he is, a mere _dilettante_, a dabbler, in a word, a worm, +who ought never to be allowed to play at all. The worst of this species +will sometimes take advantage of the fact that the game in which they +happen to be playing is only a scratch game, upon the result of which +no very great issues hang, to pollute the air they breathe with verbal, +and the ground they stand on with physical, buffooneries. Many a time +have I, and many a time have you, if you are what I take you for, shed +tears of blood, at the sight of such. Careless returns, overthrows--but +enough of a painful subject. Let us pass on. + +I have always thought it a better fate for a man to be born a bowler +than a bat. A batsman certainly gets a considerable amount of innocent +fun by snicking good fast balls just off his wicket to the ropes, and +standing stolidly in front against slow leg-breaks. These things are +good, and help one to sleep peacefully o' nights, and enjoy one's +meals. But no batsman can experience that supreme emotion of 'something +attempted, something done', which comes to a bowler when a ball pitches +in a hole near point's feet, and whips into the leg stump. It is one +crowded second of glorious life. Again, the words 'retired hurt' on the +score-sheet are far more pleasant to the bowler than the batsman. The +groan of a batsman when a loose ball hits him full pitch in the ribs is +genuine. But the 'Awfully-sorry-old-chap-it-slipped' of the bowler is +not. Half a loaf is better than no bread, as Mr Chamberlain might say, +and if he cannot hit the wicket, he is perfectly contented with hitting +the man. In my opinion, therefore, the bowler's lot, in spite of +billiard table wickets, red marl, and such like inventions of a +degenerate age, is the happier one. + +And here, glowing with pride of originality at the thought that I have +written of cricket without mentioning Alfred Mynn or Fuller Pilch, I +heave a reminiscent sigh, blot my MS., and thrust my pen back into its +sheath. + + + + +[16] + +THE TOM BROWN QUESTION + + +The man in the corner had been trying to worry me into a conversation +for some time. He had asked me if I objected to having the window open. +He had said something rather bitter about the War Office, and had hoped +I did not object to smoking. Then, finding that I stuck to my book +through everything, he made a fresh attack. + +'I see you are reading _Tom Brown's Schooldays_,' he said. + +This was a plain and uninteresting statement of fact, and appeared to +me to require no answer. I read on. + +'Fine book, sir.' + +'Very.' + +'I suppose you have heard of the Tom Brown Question?' + +I shut my book wearily, and said I had not. + +'It is similar to the Homeric Question. You have heard of that, I +suppose?' + +I knew that there was a discussion about the identity of the author of +the Iliad. When at school I had been made to take down notes on the +subject until I had grown to loathe the very name of Homer. + +'You see,' went on my companion, 'the difficulty about _Tom Brown's +Schooldays_ is this. It is obvious that part one and part two were +written by different people. You admit that, I suppose?' + +'I always thought Mr Hughes wrote the whole book.' + +'Dear me, not really? Why, I thought everyone knew that he only wrote +the first half. The question is, who wrote the second. I know, but I +don't suppose ten other people do. No, sir.' + +'What makes you think he didn't write the second part?' + +'My dear sir, just read it. Read part one carefully, and then read part +two. Why, you can see in a minute.' + +I said I had read the book three times, but had never noticed anything +peculiar about it, except that the second half was not nearly so +interesting as the first. + +'Well, just tell me this. Do you think the same man created East and +Arthur? Now then.' + +I admitted that it was difficult to understand such a thing. + +'There was a time, of course,' continued my friend, 'when everybody +thought as you do. The book was published under Hughes's name, and it +was not until Professor Burkett-Smith wrote his celebrated monograph on +the subject that anybody suspected a dual, or rather a composite, +authorship. Burkett-Smith, if you remember, based his arguments on two +very significant points. The first of these was a comparison between +the football match in the first part and the cricket match in the +second. After commenting upon the truth of the former description, he +went on to criticize the latter. Do you remember that match? You do? +Very well. You recall how Tom wins the toss on a plumb wicket?' + +'Yes.' + +'Then with the usual liberality of young hands (I quote from the book) +he put the M.C.C. in first. Now, my dear sir, I ask you, would a school +captain do that? I am young, says one of Gilbert's characters, the +Grand Duke, I think, but, he adds, I am not so young as that. Tom may +have been young, but would he, _could_ he have been young enough +to put his opponents in on a true wicket, when he had won the toss? +Would the Tom Brown of part one have done such a thing?' + +'Never,' I shouted, with enthusiasm. + +'But that's nothing to what he does afterwards. He permits, he actually +sits there and permits, comic songs and speeches to be made during the +luncheon interval. Comic Songs! Do you hear me, sir? COMIC SONGS!! And +this when he wanted every minute of time he could get to save the +match. Would the Tom Brown of part one have done such a thing?' + +'Never, never.' I positively shrieked the words this time. + +'Burkett-Smith put that point very well. His second argument is founded +on a single remark of Tom's, or rather--' + +'Or rather,' I interrupted, fiercely,' or rather of the wretched +miserable--' + +'Contemptible,' said my friend. + +'Despicable, scoundrelly, impostor who masquerades as Tom in the second +half of the book.' + +'Exactly,' said he. 'Thank you very much. I have often thought the same +myself. The remark to which I refer is that which he makes to the +master while he is looking on at the M.C.C. match. In passing, sir, +might I ask you whether the Tom Brown of part one would have been on +speaking terms with such a master?' + +I shook my head violently. I was too exhausted to speak. + +'You remember the remark? The master commented on the fact that Arthur +is a member of the first eleven. I forget Tom's exact words, but the +substance of them is this, that, though on his merits Arthur was not +worth his place, he thought it would do him such a lot of good being in +the team. Do I make myself plain, sir? He--thought--it--would--do-- +him--such--a--lot--of--good--being--in--the--team!!!' + +There was a pause. We sat looking at one another, forming silently with +our lips the words that still echoed through the carriage. + +'Burkett-Smith,' continued my companion, 'makes a great deal of that +remark. His peroration is a very fine piece of composition. "Whether +(concludes he) the captain of a school cricket team who could own +spontaneously to having been guilty of so horrible, so terrible an act +of favouritismical jobbery, who could sit unmoved and see his team +being beaten in the most important match of the season (and, indeed, +for all that the author tells us it may have been the only match of the +season), for no other reason than that he thought a first eleven cap +would prove a valuable tonic to an unspeakable personal friend of his, +whether, I say, the Tom Brown who acted thus could have been the Tom +Brown who headed the revolt of the fags in part one, is a question +which, to the present writer, offers no difficulties. I await with +confidence the verdict of a free, enlightened, and conscientious public +of my fellow-countrymen." Fine piece of writing, that, sir?' + +'Very,' I said. + +'That pamphlet, of course, caused a considerable stir. Opposing parties +began to be formed, some maintaining that Burkett-Smith was entirely +right, others that he was entirely wrong, while the rest said he might +have been more wrong if he had not been so right, but that if he had +not been so mistaken he would probably have been a great deal more +correct. The great argument put forward by the supporters of what I may +call the "One Author" view, was, that the fight in part two could not +have been written by anyone except the author of the fight with +Flashman in the school-house hall. And this is the point which has led +to all the discussion. Eliminate the Slogger Williams episode, and the +whole of the second part stands out clearly as the work of another +hand. But there is one thing that seems to have escaped the notice of +everybody.' + +'Yes?' I said. + +He leant forward impressively, and whispered. 'Only the actual fight is +the work of the genuine author. The interference of Arthur has been +interpolated!' + +'By Jove!' I said. 'Not really?' + +'Yes. Fact, I assure you. Why, think for a minute. Could a man capable +of describing a fight as that fight is described, also be capable of +stopping it just as the man the reader has backed all through is +winning? It would be brutal. Positively brutal, sir!' + +'Then, how do you explain it?' + +'A year ago I could not have told you. Now I can. For five years I have +been unravelling the mystery by the aid of that one clue. Listen. When +Mr Hughes had finished part one, he threw down his pen and started to +Wales for a holiday. He had been there a week or more, when one day, as +he was reclining on the peak of a mountain looking down a deep +precipice, he was aware of a body of men approaching him. They were +dressed soberly in garments of an inky black. Each had side whiskers, +and each wore spectacles. "Mr Hughes, I believe?" said the leader, as +they came up to him. + +'"Your servant, sir," said he. + +'"We have come to speak to you on an important matter, Mr Hughes. We +are the committee of the Secret Society For Putting Wholesome +Literature Within The Reach Of Every Boy, And Seeing That He Gets It. +I, sir, am the president of the S.S.F.P.W.L.W.T.R.O.E.B.A.S.T.H.G.I." +He bowed. + +'"Really, sir, I--er--don't think I have the pleasure," began Mr +Hughes. + +'"You shall have the pleasure, sir. We have come to speak to you about +your book. Our representative has read Part I, and reports unfavourably +upon it. It contains no moral. There are scenes of violence, and your +hero is far from perfect." + +'"I think you mistake my object," said Mr Hughes; "Tom is a boy, not a +patent medicine. In other words, he is not supposed to be perfect." + +'"Well, I am not here to bandy words. The second part of your book +must be written to suit the rules of our Society. Do you agree, or +shall we throw you over that precipice?" + +'"Never. I mean, I don't agree." + +'"Then we must write it for you. Remember, sir, that you will be +constantly watched, and if you attempt to write that second part +yourself--"' (he paused dramatically). 'So the second part was written +by the committee of the Society. So now you know.' + +'But,' said I, 'how do you account for the fight with Slogger +Williams?' + +'The president relented slightly towards the end, and consented to Mr +Hughes inserting a chapter of his own, on condition that the Society +should finish it. And the Society did. See?' + +'But--' + +'Ticket.' + +'Eh?' + +'Ticket, please, sir.' + +I looked up. The guard was standing at the open door. My companion had +vanished. + +'Guard,' said I, as I handed him my ticket, 'where's the gentleman who +travelled up with me?' + +'Gentleman, sir? I haven't seen nobody.' + +'Not a man in tweeds with red hair? I mean, in tweeds and owning red +hair.' + +'No, sir. You've been alone in the carriage all the way up. Must have +dreamed it, sir.' + +Possibly I did. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of St. Austin's, by P. G. Wodehouse + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF ST. AUSTIN'S *** + +This file should be named talew10.txt or talew10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, talew11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, talew10a.txt + +This file was produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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