"Here we all are again," exclaimed Tom Bouldon, as he shook Ernest, and
Buttar, and Ellis, and his other friends by the hand, as they first met
at school after those memorable Christmas holidays. Of course they had
a great deal to talk about; the fun they had had at Oaklands, and what
they had all done afterwards; then they had to discuss the changes in
the school; the qualities of the new boys who had arrived, and what had
become of the old ones who had gone away.
Barber had got back, and was as conceited as ever, and as supercilious
towards his old school-fellow Ellis, who still seemed always strangely
cowed in his presence. In many respects Barber, unhappily, bade fair to
rival Blackall. He was not so great a bully, but then he had not the
power of being so, as he was not so strong, and not so high up in the
school. However, he seemed fully inclined to exercise his bullying
propensities towards poor Ellis, and though he did not strike him, he
never lost an opportunity of attacking him with the words which wound
far more than sharp knives.
"This must never be," exclaimed Ernest, one day, when he had
accidentally heard Barber abusing Ellis, and the latter had walked away
without retorting or attempting a defence.
"Your friends, my dear Ellis, must for their own sakes, as well as for
yours, insist on your taking notice of what that fellow says, both of
you and to you. We must bring him to an explanation, and clear up the
mystery. We are certain, as I have often assured you, that his
treatment of you is undeserved; and why should he go on insinuating all
sorts of things against you, and not dare to speak out?"
"Oh, do not push things to extremities," answered Ellis, and the tears
almost came into his eyes. "That can do me no good. Barber does not
act generously towards me, but I think that he believes that he has the
right to abuse me; and if he really thought me guilty of the crime of
which I am accused, he would certainly be right in not associating with
me."
Ernest was not satisfied with this reply, and Ellis's behaviour
afterwards was so strange, he thought, towards him, that when he and
Buttar talked the matter over together, they could not help allowing a
shade of suspicion to creep over their own minds that all was not right.
They tried not to let Ellis discover it, but he was too keen-sighted
and sensitive not at once to perceive that their feelings towards him
were changed, and that made him, in spite of all they could do, retire
more than ever away from them and into himself.
The weather continued so cold that the ordinary games could not be
played with any satisfaction, and none but those requiring a good deal
of bodily exercise were in vogue. Lemon, and some of the more actively
disposed fellows, determined to get up a game of football, though it was
generally played at our school late in the autumn. There were plenty of
boys ready to join in it, but the chief question was to decide who
should form the sides. A number of the older boys were thought of, but
they were not popular, or not active enough, or did not care enough
about the game. At last it was decided to offer the command of one side
to Ernest Bracebridge. It was a high honour, considering the time he
had been at school. He could not, nor did he wish to refuse it. He
consulted Buttar, who of course agreed to be on his side, whom they
should select. They asked Bouldon, and Gregson, and several others
among their immediate friends, and then began to pick out others on whom
they could depend, and who generally played with them. Neither of them
mentioned Ellis. It was the first time they had neglected to ask him to
join any game that was to be played since he had become what they called
one of them. He happened to pass by, and heard them calling out the
names of those invited to play. He stopped a moment, looked towards
Ernest, and then turned away.
"I say, Buttar, do go and try and find him," said Ernest, in a low
voice, relenting in a moment. "Ask him--press him to join us."
Buttar gladly set off on the mission; but though he looked in every
direction, and inquired of everybody he met, Ellis was nowhere to be
found.
"It cannot be helped; I wish that we had from the first asked him to
join us," remarked Ernest, when Buttar returned to him with his report.
"Of whom do you speak?" asked Selby, a biggish and very gentlemanly boy.
"Of Ellis," said Buttar.
"Oh, we are much better without him," answered Selby. "There cannot be
a doubt that he is not a satisfactory person, and you two fellows lose
caste a good deal by associating with him. The idea is that he imposes
on you; not that you believe he has been guilty of an act of dishonesty,
and still consent to be intimate with him."
"An act of dishonesty!" exclaimed Ernest, with astonishment. "I cannot
believe that."
Buttar repeated almost the same words.
"There can be no doubt about it. I heard the story this winter from a
fellow who had been at the same school with him, and whose veracity I
cannot doubt. He told me that Ellis was always looked upon as a very
quiet, rather sawny sort of a fellow, without any harm; that he kept
much to himself, and had no intimate friends. He was also always poor,
and spent no money in the way other boys were in the habit of doing.
"There was another boy at the school who had always a good deal of
money, sometimes as much as three or four pounds in his purse at a time.
He was a very good sort of fellow, so he was thought, but rather soft.
Ellis and he became intimate, and were looked upon as great friends,
till on one occasion Arden, on going to his desk, found that his purse
was gone, and, as he declared, with five pounds in it. A hunt was
instituted in every direction; the masters were told of the loss, and
the boys began to suspect each other. Soon it was whispered about that
one of the boys was the thief. It was very extraordinary that just at
this time Ellis appeared to have a good deal of money in his possession.
He spent more than he had ever before done. Certainly, in two or more
instances it was by giving it in charity. He bought also a microscope
and some books, which another boy said that he had heard him remark he
wished to have, but had not the money to buy them. These of themselves
were suspicious circumstances; and many said that they thought Ellis
must have taken the money. Some days afterwards suspicion grew into
certainty when, on the master ordering all the boys to get up from their
seats, that the school desks might be examined, a purse was found in
Ellis's, which on being held up was claimed by Arden as that which had
held his money. Ellis appeared to be struck dumb when he heard this.
He stammered out that he had that very morning picked up the purse in
the road near a hedge, and that he had intended going round to discover
whether it belonged to any of the boys at the school. As it was empty,
he knew that it would not be of much consequence, and that he had
forgotten to make the inquiries he proposed. Of course everybody
believed this to be a very lame defence; but the master inquired into
the matter, and to the surprise of the boys said that he was satisfied,
and that Ellis had fully accounted to him for the way he had become
possessed of the money and the purse. The boys seemed to think that the
master was more easily satisfied than he ought to have been, because he
did not want to lose a pupil; at all events, Ellis was looked upon as a
thief, and sent to Coventry. This treatment affected his health, and he
was soon afterwards removed by his friends from the school. That is all
I know about the matter."
"I am glad we did not ask him to play football," exclaimed Buttar. "The
story is a very ugly one. I do not like the look of things."
Ernest gave a look of reproach at Buttar. "I am far from convinced that
poor Ellis was guilty of the theft imputed to him," he remarked;
"knowing him as I do, and as you ought to know him, Buttar, he acted on
the occasion just as I should have expected him to do. However, while
such stories are going about, it is certainly better for his sake and
ours that he should not play in any of our games."
"Certainly," said Selby. "If he cannot offer us a proper explanation, I
for one should object to play with him. But never mind him at present.
It is high time that we should get ready for our game. Have you
prepared the football, Bracebridge? It was your business to do so, or
to get it done."
"Oh, I can do it very well myself," said Ernest, "I have two first-rate
new ones hanging up in the play-room; they only want refilling. Come
with me, and we will douse them in the pond." Two large footballs, but
very flaccid-looking, were brought out, and by tying a stone and a line
to them they were both very soon thoroughly soaked. He then took them
out, and brought them into the house. First he took one, and undoing
the lacing which confined one side, he drew out a flaccid bladder.
"This is the sort of football we use here," he said, holding it up to
Selby. "It cannot be easily rendered unserviceable by thorn, nail, or
spike of any sort. If the bladder is injured, its place can be supplied
for a few pence, and the leather casing will last for years. This is my
blow-pipe," he added, producing a piece of tobacco-pipe. Undoing the
mouth of the bladder, round which a piece of string was tightly
fastened, he inserted his pipe, and very soon filled it with air.
Before this, however, he had put back the bladder into its case. Having
completed the filling of the bladder, he tightly laced up the ball so as
to completely enclose it. "You see," he observed, "should this get
pricked, even while we are playing, I can easily stop up the hole by
forming a neck, and tying a piece of thin string round it. Buttar, do
you take charge of the other ball in case it is wanted. It is high time
for us to be on the ground, to see that the goals are properly erected."
Ernest, Buttar, and Selby on this hurried off to the park field where
the game was to be played. The Doctor allowed football to be played, on
the understanding that it would immediately be prohibited should one boy
intentionally kick another; and two of the masters were required to be
present to see that the game was carried on properly. The goals were
about a hundred and thirty yards apart. They were formed of two upright
poles, eight feet from each other, with a cross-bar to secure them at
the top. The aim of the players was to pass the ball through their
opponents' goal, and, of course, to prevent it from being passed through
their own.
Ernest could not help feeling proud when he found forty boys ranged
under him, many older and bigger than himself. He forgot for the time
all about poor Ellis as he ran with one of the big footballs in his hand
to the ground where the game was to be played, followed by those who had
placed themselves under his leadership. Lemon and his party were there
before him. Some of them, it must be owned, rather looked down upon him
as a young upstart, and expected an easy victory. Lemon, however, when
he consented to have him as opponent, knew well that he was one not to
be despised, and endeavoured to impress upon his followers the necessity
of playing their best.
"Those youngsters are sharp, active little fellows," he observed. "You
must keep your eyes about you, and your legs going, or they will get the
better of us, depend on that."
Ernest, on his part, addressed the boys on his side, and pointed out to
them that those with whom they were about to contend were big and
strong, and practised players, and that they could only hope to beat
them by activity, watchfulness, and the exercise of their utmost skill.
These principles of action Ernest had learned from his father; they were
such as his own mind eagerly grasped, which he brought into practice in
his subsequent career, and which were the main cause of his success.
Lemon and Ernest tossed up for the first kick. Ernest won. With the
ball raised high in his two hands, he walked rapidly into the middle of
the ground. The sky was blue, the air keen and cutting; a brilliant
glow of exuberant health sat on the cheeks of nearly all the players. A
few only, who had begun to fancy themselves men, and to smoke and to
drink, and to imitate other vices of lawless and ignorant youths--no
longer boys, and yet unworthy of the true manhood they are assuming,--
looked pale. There was a strange mixture of heights and sizes assembled
together; big fellows, like Lemon, Selby, Barber; and little ones, like
Eden, Dawson, Jones, Tomlinson, and others whose names have not hitherto
been mentioned. Ernest, Buttar, Bouldon, and Gregson came between the
two sets as to size, but not far distant from the older ones as to
intelligence and the respect in which they were held. Bouldon would by
himself have been classed differently, but from associating so much with
steady first-class boys--first-class as to estimation--by showing that
he really wished to do right, he gained a good character among his
superiors.
"All ready!" sung out Ernest; and letting the ball drop, he kicked it
with all his might in the direction of Lemon's goal.
Now the opposite party rushed in, and sent it flying back over his head
and the heads of several standing behind him; but Buttar and Gregson had
fully expected this, and were prepared accordingly to defend their goal.
They met the ball hopping along in full career, and sent it back so far
that, before anybody could rush in, Ernest had been able to give it an
expediting kick, and to send it very close up to his opponent's goal.
Now there was a general and terrific rush up towards Lemon's goal, and
his followers found that they had good reason to dread the impetuosity
and courage of the smaller boys. Ernest had chiefly selected his side
from among those who possessed most pluck and endurance. Fearless of
kicks, overthrows, or crushes, on they dashed at the ball. Now and then
a big fellow like Barber would try and get a kick at it; but immediately
he was met by a dozen sharp-moving toes, which struck away so
desperately that he could never get a fair kick. For a long time the
ball kept moving backwards and forwards near Lemon's goal, the attention
of all his side being required to prevent it from being kicked through
it. Several times it rose into the air, but was speedily sent back
again; yet no one on Ernest's side could manage to send it back over the
heads of their opponents. Buttar and Tom Bouldon were always in the
midst of the _melee_. More than once Bouldon was overthrown, but he
always picked himself up, and however much damaged, postponed, as he
said, an inspection of his wounds till the game was over. Ernest, as in
duty bound, had to avoid a _melee_, that when the ball came out of it he
might be in a position to direct the movements of his party. Gregson
never got into one intentionally; but when he did, he showed that he was
as steady and fearless as any one; but his tactics were to keep moving
about, to be ready to assist his chief, or to take up the ball when it
approached the goal. Some called him the sluggish player; but Lemon's
party found it difficult enough to send the ball through the goal when
he was to be found anywhere near it. Dawson and three or four other big
fellows had got the ball between them, and were pushing it forward
triumphantly, having completely overwhelmed Ernest and his immediate
supporters by sheer strength, and were fully expecting to drive it
without impediment through the goal, when Gregson, who had been standing
a little on one side, saw them coming. Only little Eden and some other
small boys were near, but they, one and all, if not for the honour of
the game, were ready to risk anything for the sake of Bracebridge.
Gregson called them. They all saw what was required of them. Gregson
rushed in, fully meeting the ball; with a swinging leg, he gave it a
lifting kick, and sent it right over the heads of his opponents. The
little fellows rushed in behind them, and began to kick on the ball.
This compelled the big fellows once more to separate, and again to
retrograde so as to front it. Gregson, Eden, and their companions threw
themselves impetuously on it. One after the other went over it, till
the ball was hidden under a heap of boys. Barber, and some others,
dared not kick, or they would have done so; and while they were lifting
up their opponents to get once more at the ball, Ernest, Buttar,
Bouldon, and others came up to the rescue, and once more the ball was
banded backwards and forwards as furiously as ever. For long the
fortune of the day appeared as doubtful as ever. I have observed that
big boys never play so well, when opposed to others evidently smaller,
than themselves, as they do when their antagonists are of the same age
and strength as they are. This, perhaps, was one of the secrets of
Ernest's success in all the matches he played. He chose his side for
cleverness, and activity, and daring, and, what was more, they all
trusted in him, and were ready to do anything he ordered. Every now and
then there was a loud shout and a tremendous rush, and finally the ball
would come out of the _melee_ and, left in the power of a few trusted
players, could be seen flying backwards and forwards between them, each
side watching for a favourable opportunity to drive it at once home to
the goal. Now, at length, Ernest has got it. It was sent to the
extreme right of the players. This was done by a dodge of Gregson's.
He was invaluable for any movement of the sort, and staunch as steel.
Onward Ernest kicks the ball; his side rush in to prevent the approach
of their opponents, who have mostly been led off to the ground. A few
only are fully aware of what is about to occur. A few rush on
desperately to stop the progress of the ball; but the young ones are too
energetic and too quick for them. They urge it on; the rest stand for
an instant aside, to let Ernest give a last kick. It is a grand effort
of strength and skill, and the ball flies through the goal, amid the
shouts of all his side, echoed by the applause of the spectators.
Lemon and many of his supporters took their defeat very good-naturedly,
and with sincerity congratulated Ernest and his side on their success.
A few of the less amiably disposed were somewhat sulky, especially among
those of his own size; so was Barber, who was afraid that he should lose
the influence he wished to obtain from being beaten by the younger boys.
This was only one of several games. Ernest was not always successful;
twice his side were beat thoroughly, but they made up for it afterwards,
and in the end won more games than the bigger boys, much to the surprise
of the latter, who could not tell how it had occurred. Some, like
Barber, said that there must have been some underhand play, and abused
Lemon as the cause of their defeat. Lemon at last heard some of their
remarks.
"If big fellows will smoke, and booze, and over-eat themselves, how can
they expect to be as active and wide-awake as little fellows, who have
not begun such follies?" he remarked quietly. "It matters little, let
me assure them, what such fellows say of me."
Both Ernest and Buttar had thought a good deal about the matter of
Ellis. After a lengthened consultation, when their hearts relented
towards him, they resolved to press him once more to join their games;
but he resolutely refused.
"No," he replied. "You have believed me guilty, or you would not have
treated me coldly. I do not blame you--far from it. If you heard the
story about me, as I know it has been repeated, you could not have done
otherwise, unless you had thought right to believe my word before that
of others. Should the time ever come when I can, to your satisfaction,
prove my innocence, we will then be on the same terms as before."
"Oh, but we do believe you innocent, Ellis," said Ernest. "Not a shadow
of doubt remains on my mind that you are so, and I am sure Buttar thinks
as I do."
"Very well," answered Ellis, with unusual coldness; "I rejoice to hear
it. I have taken my resolution. I cannot bear fluctuations of
friendship. If I am ever able to prove my innocence, as I ought to have
endeavoured to prove it long ago, I trust that we shall stand on the
same footing that we did before."
Nothing any of his friends could say after this altered the resolution
Ellis had formed of not playing in any of the games with the other boys,
or of associating on intimate terms with any of them. Still he himself
was far from idle in his play-hours. He was a constant exerciser on the
gymnastic poles, and never failed to practise, when he could, both with
the foils and broadsword. He also took lessons regularly in dancing and
drilling, and seemed anxious to perfect himself in all athletic
exercises.
However coldly others had treated Ellis, there was one person who ever
turned a deaf ear to the stories told of him, and never for a moment
altered his conduct towards him. That was Monsieur Malin. From the
time Ellis had begun to learn French of him he had become his firm
friend. Some believed that Ellis had confided to him the circumstances
of his past history; but the less generous could not understand how he
had managed to secure the regard of the French master, and fancied that
he had invented some tale to gain his sympathy.
Thus the half-year drew on; the cold weather at last passed away.
Spring commenced, the flowers bloomed, the leaves came out on the trees,
the birds began to sing, the fish to dart and leap out of the water.
Ernest and Buttar were reminded of a visit they promised, long, long
before, to pay to John Hodge. They agreed to make it a fishing
expedition, and to try their luck in the wide stream they had crossed on
that day memorable for their hare hunt. They invited Gregson to
accompany them. They wished to ask Ellis, but the moment school was
over he had disappeared, and had not even waited for dinner. To absent
himself he must have obtained leave from the Doctor; so they set off
without him. They were very merry. Gregson was excessively amusing,
with his quaint anecdotes about animal life and the adventures which had
happened to him.
"I would rather go elephant and lion hunting for a year than become
prime minister of England," he observed, laughing. "Nothing could
compensate me for not being allowed to live in the country,--the largest
fortune would not, had I to spend it in London; and I should prefer
Australia or New Zealand, or the wilds of the Cape Colony, or Natal, or
the backwoods of Canada. Still I am a Briton, and wherever I might go I
should like to live under the flag of old England."
Ernest and Buttar echoed the last sentiment.
"But," said Ernest, "for my part I should not wish to live without the
society of my equals in knowledge and intelligence. In my opinion, the
interchange of ideas and information is one of the charms of existence.
In that way we get, in the most agreeable manner, at the pith and marrow
of books, at the opinions of other people, and at what is going forward
in the world: don't you think so, Buttar?"
Buttar, though a clever fellow, had not as yet thought much about the
matter. He remarked, however, that if he could get information by
talking, or rather by hearing others talk, that it would be much
pleasanter often than having to pore over books. But that was not what
Ernest meant. "Ah, but there must be a fair exchange of ideas and
information, to make social intercourse as pleasant as it is capable of
being. You must give as much as you take."
"Well, I never before thought of that," remarked Gregson. "I have never
yet fallen in with people willing to talk of my favourite subjects.
Perhaps if I was to meet them I should enjoy their conversation as much
as you suppose you would those of literary characters or other
well-informed persons."
"Oh, I am not alluding to literary characters, as you call them," said
Ernest. "I mean well-informed, intelligent, unprejudiced persons; or,
what would be still more agreeable, would be to collect people who have
devoted themselves to different branches of science, and who are yet
fully capable of understanding each other's peculiar subjects."
So the schoolboys talked on as they walked briskly towards the scene
they proposed for their sport.
"But do not let us forget Hodge," said Ernest. "Hereabouts he dwells, I
believe. Let us inquire at this cottage." An old woman came forth from
the door where they knocked, and told them that John Hodge lived better
nor a quarter of a mile down the road, and he, poor man, was sure to be
at home, for he had met with an accident, and, she had heard say, was
very ill, and had been out of work for many a long day. They thanked
her and hurried on.
"Ought we to go and trouble him?" asked Buttar.
"Certainly, he may want assistance," was Ernest's thoughtful reply.
A little child pointed to a neat cottage door. That was where John
Hodge lived. They knocked, and were told to come in. They started back
with surprise on seeing Ellis seated on a chair, reading earnestly to
the man they had come to see, while a woman stood by, with her apron to
her eyes, and five small children were playing about the humble
brick-floored room. How changed was poor Hodge! Thin and pale in the
extreme, with an expression of care on his countenance, he sat propped
up in an old oak chair. It was evident that he could not move, or
indeed breathe, without pain. Ellis was so absorbed in his occupation
that he did not perceive at first the entrance of his schoolfellows.
They stopped at the threshold, unwilling to interrupt him. He was
reading the Bible, and having read some verses he began to explain their
meaning. At last he finished.
"Sit down, young gentlemen, sit down, pray," said Mrs Hodge, offering
them some three-legged stools, which she wiped mechanically with her
apron.
Her words made Ellis look up. The colour came into his cheeks when he
saw the new-comers. They nodded kindly to him, and then explained that
they had come in consequence of an invitation they had received long
ago, and that they were sorry to find their host in so bad a state.
John Hodge said that he recollected them, that he was glad to see them,
but he made no complaint, or spoke even of the cause of his illness.
After they had sat and talked a short time, Ellis got up to go away;
Buttar and Gregson accompanied him, but Ernest lingered behind, and
taking out the contents of his purse, offered it to the dame.
"Thank ye kindly, sir," she replied, motioning him to keep it; "but that
young gentleman has given us all we want for some time. He says he gets
it from his friends; that we are not robbing him; and we couldn't be
taking it from you or from any one, unless we wanted it very badly. Ah,
sir, if ever there was an angel on earth he is one; of that I'm
certain."
"Well, well, when you do want you mustn't mind taking it from me. I owe
your husband some money as it is," answered Ernest, putting out his hand
to the poor woman, and then to Hodge. He took up the children, and gave
a kiss to a little rosy boy, who smiled in his face, and then saying he
would come back soon, turned after his companions. He felt much
gratified at hearing such an account of Ellis. At once an idea struck
him. In the story Selby had told him about Ellis, it appeared that one
of the causes of suspicion against him was his being possessed of a
considerable sum of money. Might not that have been given to him for
the purpose of being bestowed in charity, as he undoubtedly had lately
been furnished with funds for the same object? Ernest, though not over
precipitate usually, at once jumped at this conclusion. It was very
delightful to be able to think so, and the conviction that he had
wronged Ellis in his thoughts caused him to be doubly anxious to make
ample amends without delay, and this added considerably to the warmth of
his manner when he overtook him. He pressed him, as Buttar and Gregson
had been doing, to accompany them on their fishing excursion. At length
he said that he should like to go, but pleaded want of rod and
fishing-tackle.
Gregson laughed. "Oh, I can supply you with all you require," he
observed. "My rod you can have, and I can replace it with one to suit
my purpose in ten minutes. I have two spare tops, and tackle enough to
fit out a dozen fishermen. Come along, you have no excuse."
Ellis agreed, and with light steps the party proceeded towards the broad
stream they had fixed on. The day was warm and slightly overcast, and
the water was not too clear, so that they had a fair prospect of
success. They were not disappointed. Never before had they caught so
many fish. They kept pulling them up one after the other. Many were
very fine trout. Ellis had never caught such in his life before. They
all agreed that fishing was one of the most delightful of occupations.
Their hearts as they walked homewards opened more than ever towards each
other. Ernest at last spoke out:--
"Ellis, my dear fellow, we have been doing you great wrong,--that is,
Buttar and I,--I don't think Gregson has. We were certain that you were
very sorry, and were quite changed, but we thought you might have been
guilty of the thing they talked about; now we are certain you were not.
The money you were known to possess was given you for a good object--to
bestow in charity. One proof of your guilt falls to the ground."
"Oh, Bracebridge, I am glad to hear you say so," answered Ellis. "You
are right. I promised not to say from whom I received it, and so I
could not. No one accused me to my face. The Master knew that I was
innocent. What could I do? I now feel sure that all will turn up right
in the end. I am so happy."