"I did think we might be spared quite such a ridiculous speech as that
to which we have just listened. However, I have nothing to say about
its comic side. What I want to say is this. It is perfectly true
Mansfield had a spite against Pledge. So had I; _so_ had Cresswell. So
had eleven out of twelve of all the other monitors. And I'll tell you
why. When a fellow deliberately sets himself to corrupt juniors
entrusted to his care, as he corrupted young Forbes (howls), when he
sets himself to upset every vestige of order and good form in Templeton;
when he tells lies of everybody, and never tells the same lie correctly
twice running (laughter); when he cudgels his brains how he may make
mischief between friends (cheers from the 'Firm'), and get the credit of
being the only friend of the very fellows he tries to ruin; then, I say,
it's no wonder if Mansfield, and you, and everybody has a spite against
him. I don't say much for the Templetonian that hasn't. I don't mean
the spite which would lead any one to kick him. Thank goodness, we can
let him know what we think without wearing out our shoe-leather
(laughter). He talks in noble strain about being single-handed, and on
the losing side. Thank goodness he is single-handed, and on the losing
side! Thank goodness, too, he is lonely, and finds no one ready to keep
him company in his low ways! He talks about Mansfield," continued the
speaker, waxing unexpectedly warm. "Gentlemen, if you knew Mansfield as
well as I do, you would be as angry as I am to hear the lies this
miserable cad tells. Mansfield, gentlemen, would, I know, risk his life
for the good of Templeton. He may not be popular. He's told me, often
and often, he knows he isn't. But, I say to him, and I think you will
say too, 'Go on, old man,' (cheers). 'You've done more good to
Templeton in a term than other Captains have done in a year; and if the
only thing you had ever done had been to rid us of the cad, Pledge, you
would have done the school a service that any one might be proud of,'
(loud cheers). There, I've used hard words, I know, and almost lost my
temper, but it's best to speak out sometimes. Pledge has heard what
I've said, and I shouldn't say anything different behind his back."
The Hermit sat down amidst a roar of applause, in which the Sixth joined
as heartily as any. The effect of his simple, straightforward speech
was immediately apparent when Mansfield rose to dismiss the assembly.
For a moment he stood there, unable to speak for the cheers which
greeted him. The honest indignation of his friend had touched a
keynote, which suddenly awakened Templeton to the conviction that its
Captain was a hero after all; and the almost pathetic reference to his
unpopularity roused them to an enthusiasm of repentance which was almost
startling.
At length silence reigned, and the Captain said, with the faintest
suspicion of a tremble in his voice--
"I think we've all had enough of this, you fellows. There's the Chapel
bell. This meeting is over."
By a curious sort of instinct, the meeting, instead of immediately
dispersing, remained seated, while Pledge rose, and moved to the door.
He had got half-way there before he noticed his isolation, and a sudden
flush of scarlet in his cheeks betrayed his emotion at the discovery.
It was too late to retreat to his seat, and too late to pretend not to
notice his position. With a pitiful attempt at a swagger, he completed
his passage to the door, and left the Hall.
As he reached the door, a low hiss rose from the middle of the assembly,
but a sudden gesture of appeal from the Captain stifled it before it
could spread, and the door closed behind the retreating figure amid a
silence which spoke volumes.
The meeting waited a minute or two, and then quietly rose and dispersed,
every one feeling that from that afternoon a new era in the history of
Templeton had been inaugurated.
Our heroes, who in the midst of later excitements had half-forgotten
their own share in the afternoon's proceedings, were among the first to
get out into the Quadrangle; and once there, their manner changed from
one of dignified solemnity to one of agitated expectancy.
In a quarter of an hour their guest was due in Cresswell's study, and
between now and then, what had they not to do?
Who shall describe that wondrous spread, or the heroes that partook of
it? How, when Mr Richardson arrived, punctual and hungry, he found a
table groaning under every delicacy the ingenuity and pocket-money of
three juniors could provide; how the kidneys were done to a turn and the
tea-cake to a shade; how jam-pots stood like forts at each corner of the
snowy cloth; how hot rolls and bath buns lorded it over white loaf and
brown; how eggs, boiled three minutes and five seconds by Heathcote's
watch, peeped out among watercress and lettuces; how rosy apples and
luscious pears jostled one another in the centre dish; and how tea and
coffee breathed forth threatenings at one another from rival pots on the
same tray?
It was a spread to make the mouths in Olympus water, and drive Hebe and
Ganymede to despair. Mr Richardson, who, in the guilelessness of his
heart, had brought a small plum-cake as a contribution to the feast,
positively blushed as he saw that table, and hid his poor mite back in
his pocket for very shame.
The "Firm," when they did go in for a thing, did it well, and no
mistake; and, if Mr Richardson had paid up royally for them during the
day, he should find that more than one could play at that game, and that
they would pay up royally at night.
Like a brave man, the good father expanded his appetite, and, regardless
of consequences, took a little of everything. The "Firm" took a great
deal of everything, and never was a more jovial meal.
Coote's cup seemed to be always on the road to or from the pot, and
Georgie was for ever mistaking the dish of tea-cake for his own private
plate; while Dick, bolder than any of them, insisted on giving his
parent ocular demonstration of the wholesomeness of each several dish,
until that good gentleman began to think it was a good thing he was not
a daily visitor at Templeton.
"Jolly brickish of old Cress, giving us his study, isn't it, you chaps?"
"Rather!" said Georgie. "I think we might almost leave him out
something."
"I don't particularly want this _egg_," said Coote, who had already
accomplished two and was gently tapping a third, "if you think he'd like
that."
"How would it be to ask him in? Would you mind, father?"
"Not at all," said Mr Richardson, really relieved at the prospect of a
fifth appetite to help off the banquet.
So Dick went in search of his senior, and found him in Freckleton's
study. He felt constrained to invite both seniors to join their party,
and, somewhat to his alarm, they both accepted gladly.
Dick need not have been alarmed, though, for both the provisions and the
company held out wonderfully.
Mr Richardson was delighted with his boy's seniors, and they were no
less delighted with him. The whole story of Tom White's boat was
rehearsed again, as were also the other stories of the term, finishing
up with the eventful assembly of the afternoon.
"It wasn't a pleasant affair at all," said Cresswell, "but thunderstorms
do clear the air sometimes, and I think Templeton understands itself
better now."
"Of course we shall have Pledge still," said Freckleton, "but, as long
as fellows know what he is, he's not dangerous. It's when he gets hold
of young greenhorns like Heathcote and Coote he does mischief."
"He never got hold of me," said Coote.
"I was an ass to let him make a cad of me," said Heathcote. "I had
warning, you know; the Ghost wrote to me before I'd been here a
fortnight."
"What Ghost?" asked Mr Richardson.
Cresswell laughed.
"Nobody knows," said he, "though some of us guess."
"Who? Was it you?" asked Dick. "I got a letter too, you know."
"No; it wasn't I."
"Then, by Jove! it must have been Freckleton," exclaimed Dick,
interpreting the guilty look on the Hermit's face. "Was it, I say?"
"'_Dominat qui in se dominatur_'!" said the Hermit in a sepulchral tone.
"Yes, my boy; but keep it mum. I shan't waste my Latin over you again
in a hurry."
"Your letter really made me sit up," said Dick, gravely.
"Well, I expect," said Cresswell, "if Templeton goes on as she's doing
now, the poor Ghost will be hard up for a job. Mansfield is the right
man in the right place, and he's more right than ever now."
"That he is," said Freckleton, warmly. "I can tell you fellows that, in
spite of his iron hand, he's one of the humblest fellows that ever
lived. I believe he prays for Templeton night and morning, and that's
more than a lot of us do, I fear."
"After all," said Mr Richardson, "that's the best sort of Christian. A
man who lives up to what he believes will lead fifty, where a man who
believes more than he acts up to will barely lead one."
"It strikes me," said Freckleton, "it's no joke to be a leader of men,
or boys either; is it, Dick?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Dick. "It's no good as long as you don't go
quite straight yourself. You've got to go square yourself, I suppose,
before any one else will back you up."
"Yes," said Coote; "we couldn't back you up, you know, while you were
going on as you were, could we, Dick?"
"Didn't look like it," said Dick, with a grin.
"But I expect Dick thinks it was worth his while to have to go steady,"
said Cresswell. "It's done your 'Firm' no harm, has it?"
"Rather not!" said the "Firm," returning to their supper.