That boating trip formed a topic of conversation in the study morning
after morning when the rector was not present--a peculiar form of
conversation when Distin was there--which was not regularly, for the
accident on the river served as an excuse for several long stays in
bed--but a free and unfettered form when he was not present. For Macey
soon freed Vane from any feeling of an irksome nature by insisting to
Gilmore how he had been to blame.
Gilmore looked very serious at first, but laughed directly after.
"I really thought it was an accident," he said; "and I felt the more
convinced that it was on hearing poor old hot-headed Distie accuse you,
Vane, because, of course, I knew you would not do such a thing; and I
thought Macey blamed himself to save you."
"Thought me a better sort of fellow than I am, then," said Macey.
"Much," replied Gilmore, quietly. "You couldn't see old Weathercock
trying to drown all his friends."
"I didn't," cried Macey, indignantly. "I only wanted to give Distie a
cooling down."
"And nicely you did it," cried Gilmore.
"There, don't talk any more about it," cried Vane, who was busy
sketching upon some exercise paper. "It's all over, and doesn't bear
thinking about."
"What's he doing?" cried Macey, reaching across the table, and making a
snatch at the paper, which Vane tried hurriedly to withdraw, but only
saved a corner, while Macey waved his portion in triumph.
"Hoo-rah!" he cried. "It's a plan for a new patent steamboat, and I
shall make one, and gain a fortune, while poor old Vane will be left out
in the cold."
"Let's look," said Gilmore.
"No, no. It's too bad," cried Vane, making a fresh dash at the paper.
"Shan't have it, sir! Sit down," cried Macey. "How dare you, sir!
Look, Gil! It is a boat to go by steam, with a whipper-whopper out at
the stern to send her along."
"I wish you wouldn't be so stupid, Aleck. Give me the paper."
"Shan't."
"I don't want to get up and make a struggle for it."
"I should think not, sir. Sit still. Oh, I say, Gil, look. Here it
all is. It's not steam. It's a fellow with long arms and queer elbows
turns a wheel."
"Get out!" cried Vane, laughing; "those are shafts and cranks."
"Of course they are. No one would think it, though, would they, Gil? I
say, isn't he a genius at drawing?"
"Look here, Aleck, if you don't be quiet with your chaff I'll ink your
nose."
"Wonderful, isn't he?" continued Macey. "I say, how many hundred miles
an hour a boat like that will go!"
"Oh, I say, do drop it," cried Vane, good-humouredly.
"I know," cried Macey; "this is what you were thinking about that day we
had Rounds' boat."
"Well, yes," said Vane, quietly. "I couldn't help thinking how slow and
laborious rowing seemed to be, and how little change has been made in
all these years that are passed. You see," he continued, warming to his
subject, "there is so much waste of manual labour. It took two of us to
move that boat and not very fast either."
"And only one sitting quite still to upset it," said Gilmore quietly.
Macey started, as if he had been stung.
"There's a coward," he cried. "I thought you weren't going to say any
more about it."
"Slipped out all at once, Aleck," said Gilmore.
"But you were quite right," said Vane. "Two fellows toiling hard, and
just one idea from another's brain proved far stronger."
"Now you begin," groaned Macey. "Oh, I say, don't! I wouldn't have old
Distie know for anything. You chaps are mean."
"Go on, Vane," cried Gilmore.
"There's nothing more to go on about, for I haven't worked out the idea
thoroughly."
"I know," cried Macey, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"I thought," continued Vane dreamily, "that one might contrive a little
paddle or screw--"
"And work it with hot-water pipes," cried Macey.
It was Vane's turn to wince now; and he made a pretence of throwing a
book at Macey, who ducked down below the table, and then slowly raised
his eyes to the level as Vane went on.
"Then you could work that paddle by means of cranks."
"Only want one--old Weathercock. Best crank I know," cried Macey.
"Will you be quiet," cried Gilmore. "Go on, Vane."
"That is nearly all," said the latter, thoughtfully, and looking
straight before him, as if he could see the motive-power he mentally
designed.
"But how are you going to get the thing to work?"
"Kitchen-boiler," cried Macey.
Gilmore made "an offer" at him with his fist, but Macey dodged again.
"Oh, one might move it by working a lever with one's hands."
"Then you might just as well row," said Gilmore.
"Well, then, by treadles, with one's feet."
"Oh--oh--oh!" roared Macey. "Don't! don't! Who's going to be put on
the tread-mill when he wants to have a ride in a boat? Why, I--"
"Pst! Syme!" whispered Gilmore, as a step was heard. Then the door
opened, and Distin came in, looking languid and indifferent.
"Morning," cried Gilmore. "Better?"
Distin gave him a short nod, paid no heed to the others, and went to his
place to take up a book, yawning loudly as he did so. Then he opened
the book slowly.
"Look!" cried Macey, with a mock aspect of serious interest.
"Eh? What at?" said Vane.
"The book," cried Macey; and then he yawned tremendously. "Oh, dear!
I've got it now."
Vane stared.
"Don't you see? You, being a scientific chap, ought to have noticed it
directly. Example of the contagious nature of a yawn."
Oddly enough, Gilmore yawned slightly just at the moment, and, putting
his hand to his mouth, said to himself, "Oh, dear me!"
"There!" cried Macey, triumphantly, "that theory's safe. Distie comes
in, sits down, yawns; then the book yawns, I yawn, Gilmore yawns. You
might, could, would, or should yawn, only you don't, and--"
"Good-morning, gentlemen. I'm a bit late, I fear. Had a little walk
after breakfast, and ran against Doctor Lee, who took me in to see his
greenhouse. He tells me you are going to heat it by hot-water. Why,
Vane, you are quite a genius."
Macey reached out a leg to kick Vane under the table, but it was
Distin's shin which received the toe of the lad's boot, just as Gilmore
moved suddenly.
Distin uttered a sharp ejaculation, and looked fiercely across at
Gilmore.
"What did you do that for?" he cried.
"What?"
"Kick me under the table."
"I did not."
"Yes, you--"
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," cried the rector reprovingly, "this is not a
small boarding-school, and you are not school-boys. I was speaking."
"I beg your pardon, sir," cried Gilmore.
Distin was silent, and Macey, who was scarlet in the face; glanced
across at Vane, and seemed as if he were going to choke with suppressed
laughter, while Vane fidgeted about in his seat.
The rector frowned, coughed, changed his position, smiled, and went on,
going back a little to pick up his words where he had left off.
"Quite a genius, Vane--yes, I repeat it, quite a genius."
"Oh, no, sir; it will be easy enough."
"After once doing, Vane," said the rector, "but the first invention--the
contriving--is, I beg to say, hard. However, I am intensely gratified
to see that you are putting your little--little--little--what shall I
call them?"
"Dodges, sir," suggested Macey, deferentially.
"No, Mr Macey, that is too commonplace--too low a term for the purpose,
and we will, if you please, say schemes."
"Yes, sir," said Macey, seriously--"schemes."
"Schemes to so useful a purpose," continued the rector; "and I shall ask
you to superintend the fitting up of my conservatory upon similar
principles."
"Really, sir, I--" began Vane; but the rector smiled and raised a
protesting hand.
"Don't refuse me, Vane," he said. "Of course I shall beg that you do
not attempt any of the manual labour--merely superintend; but I shall
exact one thing, if you consent to do it for me. That is, if the one at
the manor succeeds."
"Of course I will do it, if you wish, sir," said Vane.
"I felt sure you would. I said so to your uncle, and your aunt said she
was certain you would," continued the rector; "but, as I was saying, I
shall exact one thing: as my cook is a very particular woman, and would
look startled if I even proposed to go into the kitchen--"
He paused, and Vane, who was in misery, glanced at Macey--to see that he
was thoroughly enjoying it all, while Distin's countenance expressed the
most sovereign contempt.
"I say, Vane Lee," said the rector again, as if he expected an answer,
"I shall exact one thing."
"Yes, sir. What?"
"That the rule of the queen of the kitchen be respected; but--ah, let me
see, Mr Distin, I think we were to take up the introductory remarks
made on the differential calculus."
And the morning's study at the rectory went on.
"Best bit of fun I've had for a long time," cried Macey, as he strolled
out with Vane when the readings were at an end.
"Yes, at my expense," cried Vane sharply. "My leg hurts still with that
kick."
"Oh, that's nothing," cried Macey; "I kicked old Distie twice as hard by
mistake, and he's wild with Gilmore because he thinks it's he."
Vane gripped him by the collar.
"No, no, don't. I apologise," cried Macey. "Don't be a coward."
"You deserve a good kicking," cried Vane, loosing his grasp.
"Yes, I know I do, but be magnanimous in your might, oh man of genius."
"Look here," cried Vane, grinding his teeth, "if you call me a genius
again, I will kick you, and hard too."
"But I must. My mawmaw said I was always to speak the truth, sir."
"Yes, and I'll make you speak the truth, too. Such nonsense! Genius!
Just because one can use a few tools, and scheme a little. It's
absurd."
"All right. I will not call you a genius any more. But I say, old
chap, shall you try and make a boat go by machinery?"
"I should like to," said Vane, who became dreamy and thoughtful
directly. "But I have no boat."
"Old Rounds would lend you his. There was a jolly miller lived down by
the Greythorpe river," sang Macey.
"Nonsense! He wouldn't lend me his boat to cut about."
"Sell it you."