The return of the Sixth, our heroes discovered, made a wonderful change
in the school life of Templeton. The Fifth, who always made the best
use of their two day's authority while they had it, retired almost
mysteriously into private life in favour of their betters. All school
sports, and gatherings, and riots had to depend no longer upon the sweet
will of those who sported, or gathered, or rioted, but on the pleasure
of the monitors. The school societies and institutions began to wake up
after their holiday, and generally speaking the wheels of Templeton
which, during the first two days had bumped noisily over the cobbles,
got at last on to the lines, and began to spin round at their accustomed
pace.
In no part of the school was this change more felt than among the
juniors. They liked being off the line now and then, and they always
rebelled when the iron hand of the law picked them up and set them back
on the track. It wasn't only that they couldn't run riot, and make
Templeton a bear-garden. That was bad enough. But in addition to that,
they had to fag for the Sixth, and after a week or two of liberty the
return to servitude is always painful.
"You kids," said Raggles, two days after the return of the Sixth, "mind
you show up at Den after Elections this evening."
"What is Den, and who are Elections?" asked Dick.
"What, don't you know? Awful green lot of new kids you are. Elections
is after tea in the hall, and Den's directly after that."
Raggles was very much affronted, when, after this lucid explanation,
Dick again enquired--
"What do you mean by Den and Elections?"
"Look here, what a howling idiot you must be if you've got to be told
half a dozen times. I'll spell it for you if you like."
"All serene," said Heathcote. "Two to one you come a cropper over
Elections."
"Who do they elect?" asked Dick.
"Why, everybody, of course. The captains of the clubs, and all that.
Hang it, you'll be there. What's the use of fagging to tell you?"
"And what about the Den? Who lives in it?"
"Look here! I shall lick you, Richardson, if you go on like that. You
green kids are a lot too cheeky."
And the offended envoy went off in a huff, leaving his hearers in a
state of excited uncertainty as to the nature of the ceremony to which
their company had been invited.
As the reader may like to have a rather more definite explanation than
that afforded by Mr Raggles, let him know that unlike most public
schools, the school year at Templeton began after the Easter holidays,
instead of after the summer holidays. The new boys came up then for the
most part (though a few "second chances," as they were called, straggled
in in the autumn term), and the various appointments to offices of
honour and duty, the inauguration of the clubs, and the apportionment of
the fags always formed an interesting feature of the new term. The
whole of the business was transacted in a mass meeting of the school,
known by the name of "Elections," where, under the solemn auspices of
the Sixth, Templeton was invited to pick out its own rulers, and settle
its own programme for the ensuing year.
Elections, as a rule, passed off harmoniously, the school acquiescing on
most points in the recommendations of the Sixth, and, except on matters
of great excitement, rarely venturing to lift up its voice in
opposition. The juniors, however, generally contrived to have their
fling, usually on the question of fagging, which being a recognised
institution at Templeton, formed a standing bone of contention. And, as
part of the business of Elections was the solemn drawing of lots for new
boys to fill the vacancies caused by removal or promotion, the
opportunity generally commended itself as a fit one for some little
demonstration.
The Juniors' Den at Templeton, that is, the popular assembly of those
youthful Templetonians who had not yet reached the dignity of the Fourth
Form, had always been the most radical association in the school.
Though they differed amongst themselves in most things, they were as one
man in denouncing fagging and monitors. Their motto was--down with
both; and it pleased them not a little to discover that though their
agitation did little good in the way of reforming Templeton, it served
to keep their "Den" well before the school, and sometimes to cause
anxiety in high places.
Such was the state of school politics at Templeton, when Dick and
Heathcote obeyed the summons to attend their first Elections, on the
first Saturday of the new term.
They found the Great Hall crowded with benches, rather like chapel, with
a raised dais at the upper end for the Sixth, a long table in front for
the 'reporters,' and the rest of the space divided into clusters of
seats, occupied by members of the various school organisations
represented. Of these clusters, by far the largest was that devoted to
the accommodation of the Den, towards which our heroes, actively piloted
by Raggles and Gosse, and a few kindred spirits, were conducted in
state, just as the proceedings were about to begin.
"Come and squash up in the corner," said Raggles; "we're well behind,
and shan't be seen if we want to shine."
"Shine," as our heroes discovered in due time, was a poetical way of
expressing what in commonplace language would be called, "kicking up a
shine."
"Shall you cheer Ponty?" asked Gosse of his friend.
"Rather. He's a muff. I shall howl at Mansfield, though, and
Cresswell."
"I shan't howl at Cresswell," said Dick boldly.
"Why not? He's a beast. You'll get kicked, if you don't, I say."
"I suppose they'll make him Whipper-in again," said another boy near
them. Dick looked uncomfortable for a moment. But the indifferent
looks on his neighbours' faces convinced him the story had not yet
reached the Den.
"Cazenove thinks _he_ ought to get it," said Gosse, amid a general
laugh, for Cazenove was almost as round as he was high. "Shall I put
you up, old man? Hullo, here they come! There's Ponty. Clap up, you
fellows."
A big cheer greeted Pontifex, the captain of the school, as he strolled
on to the dais, and took the chair of state.
The new boys eyed him curiously. He was a burly, good-humoured, easy-
going fellow, with an "anything for a quiet life" look about him, as he
stretched himself comfortably in his seat, and looked placidly round the
hall. The cheering had very little effect on his composure. Indeed, he
may not have taken in that it was intended for him at all; for he took
no notice of it, and appeared to be quite as much amused at the noise as
any one else.
A great contrast to Pontifex was Mansfield, the vice-captain, who, with
quick eye, and cool, determined mouth, sat next, and eyed the scene like
a general who parades his forces and waits to give them the word of
command. Like Pontifex, he seemed but little concerned, either with the
cheers of his friends or the few howls of his mutinous juniors. He was
used to noises, and they made very little difference to him one way or
another. Cresswell, on the contrary, seemed decidedly pleased, when
cheers and cries of "Well run!" greeted his appearance; and most of the
other monitors--Cartwright, the quick-tempered, warm-hearted Templeton
football captain; Freckleton, the studious "dark man;" Bull, the
"knowing one," with his horse-shoe pin; Pledge, the smirking "spider;"
of the Sixth, and others--seemed to set no little store by the reception
the school was pleased to accord them.
At last all were in their places, the door was shut--a traditional
precaution against magisterial invasion--and Pontifex lounged to his
feet.
"Well, you fellows," said he, with a pleasant smile and in a pleasant
voice, "here we are again at another Election. We're always glad to see
one another after the holidays--at least I am (cheers)--and I hope we've
got a good year coming on. They tell me I'm captain of Templeton this
year. (Laughter and cheers.) I can tell you I'm proud of it, and only
wish I wasn't going to Oxford in the autumn. (Cheers and cries of
'Don't go.') The comfort is, you'll have a rattling good captain in
Mansfield when I'm gone. (Cheers and a few howls.) I don't wonder some
of the young 'uns howl, for he'll make some of you sit up, which I could
never do. (Great laughter among the Seniors, and signs of dissension in
the Den.) But I've not got to make a speech. There's a lot of
business. The first thing is the cricket captain. There's only one man
fit for that, and I won't go through the farce of proposing him. Those
who say Mansfield's the right man for cricket captain, hold up your
hands."
A forest of hands went up, for even the malcontents who didn't approve
of Mansfield as a monitor had nothing to say against his cricket, which
was about as perfect as any that had been seen in the Templeton fields
for a dozen years.
With similar unanimity Cresswell was re-elected Whipper-in of the
Harriers, and no one held up his hand more enthusiastically for him than
did Dick, who shuddered to think how he could ever have imagined himself
on such a lofty pedestal.
Then followed in quick succession elections to the other high offices of
state in Templeton--Cartwright to the football captaincy, Bull to the
keepership of the fives and tennis, Freckleton to be warden of the
port--a sinecure office, supposed to imply some duties connected with
the "Tub," but really only the relic of some ancient office handed down
from bygone generations, and piously retained by a conservative
posterity.
All these were re-elections and passed off without opposition, and as a
matter of course.
When, however, Pontifex announced that the office of Usher of the Chapel
was vacant, the duties of which were to mark the attendance of all boys
and present weekly reports of their punctuality, and proceeded to
nominate Pledge for the post, the first symptoms of opposition showed
themselves, much to the delight of the Den.
"I move an amendment to that," said Birket, looking a little nervous,
but evidently in earnest. "I don't think Pledge is the proper man.
(Cheers.) I don't like him myself--(loud cheers)--and I don't think I'm
very fastidious. (Great applause from the Den.) We want an honest,
reliable man--(hear, hear)--who'll keep our scores without fear or
favour. (Applause.) You needn't think I'm saying this for a lark. I'm
pretty sure to catch it, but I don't care; I'll say what I think.
(Cries of 'We'll back you up,' and cheers.) You're not obliged to have
a monitor to be Usher of the Chapel, and I propose Swinstead be
appointed."
Birket sat down amid loud cheers. It had been a plucky thing for him to
do, and very few would have undertaken so ungracious a task; but, now he
had undertaken it, the meeting was evidently with him.
"Everybody here," said Pontifex, "as long as he's in order, has a right
to express his opinion without fear. Two names have now been proposed--
Pledge and Swinstead. Any more?"
No one broke the silence.
"Then I'll put up Swinstead first. Who votes for Swinstead?"
Everybody, apparently. The Den, to a man, and the Middle school
scarcely less unanimously.
"Now for Pledge."
About a dozen, including Bull and one or two of the Sixth, a select few
among the juniors, and a certain unwholesome-looking clique among the
Fourth and Fifth.
It rather surprised our heroes to notice that Pledge, so far from
appearing mortified by his reverse, took it with a decidedly amiable
smile, which became almost grateful as it beamed into the corner where
Birket and Swinstead, both flushed with excitement, sat.
"By Jingo! I wouldn't be those two for a lot!" said Raggles.
"Now _I_ think Pledge takes it very well," said Heathcote.
Whereat there was a mighty laugh in the Den as the joke passed round,
and the phenomenon of the "green new kid" blushing scarlet all over
attracted general curiosity, and stopped the proceedings for several
minutes.
As soon as order was restored, other elections were proceeded with,
including the school librarian and the post fag, the duty of which
latter office was to distribute the letters which came by the post to
their respective owners. For this office there was always great
competition, each "set" being anxious to get one of its own members, on
whom it could depend.
The contest this year lay between Pauncefote, of Westover's, and
Duffield of Purbeck's, and ever since the term opened canvassing had
been going on actively on behalf of the respective candidates. I regret
to say the laws relating to elections at Templeton were not as rigid as
those which regulate public elections generally, and bribery and
corruption were no name for some of the unscrupulous practices resorted
to by the friends of either party to secure a vote. If a small boy
ventured to express so much as a doubt as to his choice, his arm would
be seized by the canvassing party and screwed till the required pledge
was given. And woe to that small boy if an hour later the other side
caught him by the other arm and begged the favour of his vote for their
man! Nothing short of perjury would keep his arm in its socket. Nor
was it once or twice only that the youth of Templeton would be made to
forswear itself over the election of post fag. Several times a day the
same luckless voter might be made to yield up his promise, until, at the
end of a week, he would become too confused and weary to recollect for
which side his word of honour had last been given. Nor did it much
matter, for his vote in Hall depended entirely on the company nearest
within reach of his arm; and if, by some grim fatality, he should chance
to get with one arm towards each party, the effort of recording his vote
was likely to prove one of the most serious undertakings of his mortal
life.
Our heroes, luckily for them, found themselves planted in the midst of
Pauncefote's adherents, so that they experienced no difficulty at all in
making up their minds how they should vote. They either did not see or
did not notice a few threatening shouts and pantomimic gestures
addressed to them by some of Duffield's supporters in a remote corner of
the room, and held up their hands for his opponent with the clear
conscience of men who exercise a mighty privilege fearlessly.
"Stick up both hands," said Gosse. "We shall be short."
"It wouldn't be fair," said Dick, boldly.
"Howling prig!" said Gosse, in disgust, "canting young hypocrite; you'll
get it hot, I can tell you, if--"
"Shut up!" shouted Dick, rounding on him with a fierceness which
astonished himself. It was a show to see the way in which Gosse
collapsed under this thunderclap of righteous indignation. He looked
round at Dick out of the corners of his eyes, very much as a small dog
contemplates the boot that has just helped him half-way across the road,
and positively forgot to keep his own grimy hand raised aloft till the
counting was finished.
"Pauncefote has 108 votes. Now those who are in favour of Duffield?"
There was great excitement, and no little uproar, as the rival party
made their show. Cries of, "Cheat! both hands up!" rose from the
shocked adherents of Pauncefote; and a good deal of quiet service, in
holding the arms of weaklings down to their sides, was rendered on the
frontier. Finally, it was found that Duffield had in votes; whereat
there were tremendous cheers and counter-cheers, not unmixed with
recriminations, and imputations and threats, which promised our heroes a
lively time of it when finally they adjourned to the Den.
Before that happened, however, a solemn ceremony had to be gone through,
in which they were personally interested. The chairman read out a list
of new boys, and ordered them to answer to their names, and come forward
on to the platform. It was a nervous ordeal, even for the most self-
composed, to be thus publicly trotted out in the presence of all
Templeton, and to hear the derisive cheers with which his name and
appearance were greeted as he obeyed.
"Look at his legs!" cried one, as Dick, inwardly hoping he was making a
favourable impression, passed up the hall and mounted the steps.
Whereupon Dick suddenly became conscious of his lower limbs--which, by
the way, were as straight and tight a pair of shanks as any boy of
fourteen could boast--and tried to hide them behind a chair.
"I can see them still!" cried a shrill voice, just as he thought he had
succeeded; and poor Dick, who, an hour ago, had almost forgotten he was
a new boy, had to endure a storm of laughter, and look as much at his
ease as he could, while all Templeton mounted on chairs, and stretched
its necks to catch a glimpse of his unfortunate legs.
Heathcote came in for a similar trial on account of his blushes, and
poor Aspinall positively staggered, and finally broke down under
allusions to the "bottle," and "soothing syrup," and "mamma" and "sister
Lottie."
The Sixth had the sense not to attempt to quell the disorder till it had
had a fair chance of blowing itself off. Then Pontifex ordered the
names to be put into a hat, and handed round for each of the monitors to
draw. Each monitor accordingly drew, and announced the name of his
future fag. In the first round Heathcote's name and Aspinall's both
came up--the former, much to his disgust, falling to the lot of Pledge,
the latter to that of Cresswell. Dick boiled with excitement as the hat
started on its second round. Suppose he, too, should fall to the lot of
a cad like Pledge, or a brute like Bull! Or, oh blissful notion!
suppose Cresswell should draw him, too, as well as Aspinall.
The hat started; Pontifex drew a stranger; so did Mansfield. Then
Cresswell drew, and, with a bound of delight, Dick heard his own name,
and marked the gleam of pleasure which crossed his new master's face as
he turned towards him. He forgot all about his legs, he even missed
Heathcote's doleful look of disappointment, or the thankful sigh of
young Aspinall. He felt as if something good had happened to him, and
as if his star were still in the ascendant.
At the end of the Elections a cry of "three groans for fagging!" was
proposed by some member of the Den, who took care to keep himself well
concealed, and, as usual, was lustily responded to by all the interested
parties. Which little demonstration being over, Pontifex announced that
the meeting was over, and that "captain's levee" would be held on that
day week at 5:30.
Our heroes were promptly kidnapped, as they descended from the platform,
by the emissaries of the Den, who hurried them off to the serene
atmosphere of that dignified assembly, where, for an hour or more, they
took part in denouncing everybody and everything, and assisted in a
noble flow of patriotic eloquence on the duty of the oppressed towards
the oppressor, and the slave towards his driver. The Sixth, meanwhile,
rather glad to have Elections over, strolled off to their own quarters.
"More row than ever this year," said Mansfield, as he followed Cresswell
into his study. "Ponty's too easy-going."
"I don't know. If you keep them in too tight they'll burst. I think
he's right to give them some play."
"Well, perhaps you're right, Cress; but I'm afraid I shan't be as easy
with them as Ponty. My opinion is, that if you give them an inch
they'll take an ell. By the way, that was a queer thing about Pledge.
Did you expect it?"
"No, but I'm not surprised. He's a low cad--poor Forbes owed his
expulsion last term to him, I'm positive. He simply set himself to drag
him down, and he did it."
"Pity he's such a good bowler, one's bound to keep him in the eleven,
and the fellows always swear by the eleven. By the way, I hear we have
our work cut out for us at Grandcourt this year. They're a hot lot, and
we play them on their own ground this time."
"Oh, we shall do it, if only Ponty will wake up."
These two enthusiasts for the good of Templeton would have been a good
deal afflicted had they seen what the burly captain of the school was
doing at that moment.
He was sitting in his easy-chair, the picture of comfort, with his feet
up on the window-ledge, reading "Pickwick," and laughing as he read. No
sign of care was on his brow, and apparently no concern for Templeton
was weighing on his mind; and even when a fag entered and brought him up
a list of names of boys requiring his magisterial correction, he ordered
him to put it on the table, and never even glanced at it for the next
hour.
Pontifex, it is true, did not do himself justice. He passed for even
more easy-going than he was, and when he did choose to make an effort--
few fellows could better deal with the duties that fell to his lot.
But, unfortunately, he didn't make the effort often enough either for
the good of Templeton or his own credit.
He was getting to the end of his chapter when the door opened again, and
Pledge entered.
"Hallo," said the captain, looking up after a bit, "you came a cropper,
I say, this afternoon. What have you been up to?"
"That's what I came to ask you," said Pledge, with an amiable smile.
"Goodness knows! I was as much surprised as you. You know, between you
and me, I don't think you did Forbes much good last term."
"Quite a mistake. I befriended him when everybody else was cutting him.
He told me when he left I was the only friend he had here."
"A good friend?" asked Pontifex, looking hard at his man.
"Really, Ponty, you don't improve in your manners," said Pledge, with a
slightly embarrassed laugh.
"No offence, old man," said the captain. "But, seriously, don't you
think you might do a little more good, or even a little less well, harm,
you know, in Templeton than you do?"
"Most noble captain, we must see what can be done," said Pledge,
colouring a trifle, as he left the room.
"I've lost my pull on him, I suppose," said the captain, taking up his
"Pickwick."
"By Jove! I wish I could make up my mind to kick him!"