As time went on Philip’s deformity ceased to interest. It was accepted
like one boy’s red hair and another’s unreasonable corpulence. But
meanwhile he had grown horribly sensitive. He never ran if he could
help it, because he knew it made his limp more conspicuous, and he
adopted a peculiar walk. He stood still as much as he could, with his
club-foot behind the other, so that it should not attract notice, and
he was constantly on the look out for any reference to it. Because he
could not join in the games which other boys played, their life
remained strange to him; he only interested himself from the outside in
their doings; and it seemed to him that there was a barrier between
them and him. Sometimes they seemed to think that it was his fault if
he could not play football, and he was unable to make them understand.
He was left a good deal to himself. He had been inclined to
talkativeness, but gradually he became silent. He began to think of the
difference between himself and others.
The biggest boy in his dormitory, Singer, took a dislike to him, and
Philip, small for his age, had to put up with a good deal of hard
treatment. About half-way through the term a mania ran through the
school for a game called Nibs. It was a game for two, played on a table
or a form with steel pens. You had to push your nib with the
finger-nail so as to get the point of it over your opponent’s, while he
manoeuvred to prevent this and to get the point of his nib over the
back of yours; when this result was achieved you breathed on the ball
of your thumb, pressed it hard on the two nibs, and if you were able
then to lift them without dropping either, both nibs became yours. Soon
nothing was seen but boys playing this game, and the more skilful
acquired vast stores of nibs. But in a little while Mr. Watson made up
his mind that it was a form of gambling, forbade the game, and
confiscated all the nibs in the boys’ possession. Philip had been very
adroit, and it was with a heavy heart that he gave up his winning; but
his fingers itched to play still, and a few days later, on his way to
the football field, he went into a shop and bought a pennyworth of J
pens. He carried them loose in his pocket and enjoyed feeling them.
Presently Singer found out that he had them. Singer had given up his
nibs too, but he had kept back a very large one, called a Jumbo, which
was almost unconquerable, and he could not resist the opportunity of
getting Philip’s Js out of him. Though Philip knew that he was at a
disadvantage with his small nibs, he had an adventurous disposition and
was willing to take the risk; besides, he was aware that Singer would
not allow him to refuse. He had not played for a week and sat down to
the game now with a thrill of excitement. He lost two of his small nibs
quickly, and Singer was jubilant, but the third time by some chance the
Jumbo slipped round and Philip was able to push his J across it. He
crowed with triumph. At that moment Mr. Watson came in.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
He looked from Singer to Philip, but neither answered.
“Don’t you know that I’ve forbidden you to play that idiotic game?”
Philip’s heart beat fast. He knew what was coming and was dreadfully
frightened, but in his fright there was a certain exultation. He had
never been swished. Of course it would hurt, but it was something to
boast about afterwards.
“Come into my study.”
The headmaster turned, and they followed him side by side Singer
whispered to Philip:
“We’re in for it.”
Mr. Watson pointed to Singer.
“Bend over,” he said.
Philip, very white, saw the boy quiver at each stroke, and after the
third he heard him cry out. Three more followed.
“That’ll do. Get up.”
Singer stood up. The tears were streaming down his face. Philip stepped
forward. Mr. Watson looked at him for a moment.
“I’m not going to cane you. You’re a new boy. And I can’t hit a
cripple. Go away, both of you, and don’t be naughty again.”
When they got back into the school-room a group of boys, who had
learned in some mysterious way what was happening, were waiting for
them. They set upon Singer at once with eager questions. Singer faced
them, his face red with the pain and marks of tears still on his
cheeks. He pointed with his head at Philip, who was standing a little
behind him.
“He got off because he’s a cripple,” he said angrily.
Philip stood silent and flushed. He felt that they looked at him with
contempt.
“How many did you get?” one boy asked Singer.