Braithwaite, Percy . . . . Deanery . . . . . . . 871
Temple, Hugh . . . . . . . St. Paul's . . . . . 868
Carter, Robert . . . . . . Bath Street Board . . 839
Boden, Richard . . . . . . Deanery . . . . . . . 810
Jones, Samuel . . . . . . Royal British . . . . 750
Morris, William Charles . Somerton Board . . . 716
The honour of winning the scholarship thus goes to the Deanery School;
but, unhappily, the successful candidate cannot take advantage of his
victory. Our readers will, no doubt, remember the sad accident which
recently occurred at the Old Fort, in which Percy Braithwaite lost his
life. Great sympathy is felt for the sorrowing parents. It is sad to
think of the early termination to what evidently might have been a
distinguished career. The scholarship will therefore be awarded to the
candidate next on the list, Hugh Temple of St. Paul's, who, it will be
noticed, is only three marks behind the leader."
At first, Jim could think of nothing but the blow to his own pride.
Most of the Deanery boys fully expected him to win the scholarship; they
had coupled his name with it as far back as the cricket match for the
Challenge Shield; they had looked up to him as their champion. And now
the list was out, and he was not even in the first six!
I am sorry to admit it, but the truth must be told. Jim fairly broke
down. He was angry, mortified, and ashamed. He felt the blow with
bitter humiliation, and while doing his round that evening he had not
the courage to look any one in the face. It seemed as if all the town
must be jeering at him as a dead failure.
He could have yielded pride of place to Temple, but to be beaten by
Braithwaite, and even by the light-hearted Angel! This was where the
sting lay, because, knowing the extent of their abilities, he felt that
he was far superior to them.
Of course, he had had hard lines in his father's death, in the necessity
for finding work, and again in his mother's illness; but he could not
tell all the world that. The Deanery fellows bothered little about his
misfortunes; in their eyes the thing would be simple enough: he had
failed even to get into the first six, and there was an end of it.
When he got home that night, he said nothing of the news; so that his
mother, who rarely bought a paper, did not know that the list was out.
"She will know soon enough," he thought bitterly, "and on Sunday I shall
have to tell Susie."
*CHAPTER X.*
*GOING DOWN HILL.*
Nowhere was the result of the examination received with greater surprise
than at the Deanery School. It is safe to say that every boy looked
twice at the published list before admitting Jim Hartland's name was not
there.
On the following morning the boys of the upper classes, gathering
together in the playground, discussed the matter excitedly.
"It's just what I've always said," exclaimed Simpson; "the chap's no
better than the rest of us. Just because he can play cricket a bit, we
put him on the top of a monument, and now, down he comes--flop!"
"Well, you needn't be afraid of tumbling," laughed little Macdonald,
"because you'll never be put on the top of anything. You're always
having a dig at Hartland, because he wouldn't have you in the cricket
eleven."
"Well said, Alec!" cried the Angel. "That's the truth. Now look at me.
I came out fourth."
"So you did!"
"Good old Angel!"
"You'll be first another time!"
"Oh, what rot!" exclaimed Dick. "Can't you let a fellow speak? What I
want to say is that Jim Hartland's twice as good as me."
"He didn't make much show, anyhow," growled Simpson.
"No, he didn't. And why? Because, when his father was drowned, he went
to work to help his mother. If it hadn't been for that, he'd have won
the 'Gayton' easily."
"Well, he lost it!" growled Simpson; "and through him the Deanery lost
it, too!"
"How's that?"
"How's that! Why, wasn't it through his bounce that Dandy Braithwaite
got drowned?"
"Don't listen to him, Angel," said Macdonald, for Dick had doubled up
his fists, and his eyes were flashing fire.
"Pooh!" said Simpson. "I don't care; everybody knows it's true."
"He owned as much as that himself," chimed in Archer, who owed Jim a
grudge.
"Perhaps you think he wanted Braithwaite to get drowned," exclaimed Dick
sarcastically, "and that he and I put up the little job between us?"
"I'm not saying anything against you," replied Simpson; "but I do say
it's Hartland's fault we lost the 'Gayton,' and you can take it how you
like."
This was the view held by many of the Deanery boys, who were very sore
that the scholarship had gone to St. Paul's. Thus the subject of the
tragedy was brought to the front again, and during the interval at
morning school Jim could not help overhearing some of the remarks.
Angry and miserable, he went to a corner of the playground, where Dick
followed him.
"Look here, Jim," said the Angel cheerily; "don't mope about the
'Gayton.' We've all seen the list, of course, and I'm awfully sorry you
aren't in it. It's too ridiculous putting me above you. I know that,
and so do the others. It's like turning you out of the eleven to put
Simpson in; but buck up, old chap--you'll soon get over it."
"I wasn't thinking about you, Dicky," replied his chum. "I'm jolly glad
you're high up."
"What are you looking so miserable about, then?"
"Oh, hang it all!" cried Jim excitedly; "can't you hear what the fellows
are saying? They look at me as black as thunder!"
"Let 'em," rejoined the Angel serenely; "that won't hurt you."
"Oh," said Jim, jerking himself away savagely, "it's easy for you to
talk! I wish the place was at the bottom of the sea!"
"I don't!" replied Dick. "My mac's worn out, and I shan't get another
this side of Christmas. Here's Macdonald coming; don't eat him."
"I say, Hartland," began Alec, who was as red as a turkey-cock, "I'm
awfully sorry you didn't get the 'Gayton.' I know from what the Angel
has said that you've had jolly hard lines."
"Thanks!" growled Jim. "But I wonder you aren't afraid to be seen
speaking to me."
"I wish you didn't feel so cut up about it," returned Macdonald,
ignoring Jim's surliness. "You're looking at it through magnifying
glasses."
Unfortunately Jim did feel _cut up_, and by continual brooding made
himself more and more miserable. From this time, I fear, he began to go
slowly down hill, and the only gleam of good feeling he displayed was
with regard to his mother and Susie.
"I'm very sorry, my boy," said his mother, when he told her; "and yet I
shall never think of this scholarship without feeling proud of you. I
know you had a good chance of winning it, and threw it away for the sake
of helping me."
"No, no, mother," cried the boy cheerfully; "you mustn't look at it that
way. I mightn't have won the scholarship at all; and anyhow, I couldn't
have accepted it."
On Sunday, when at the hospital, he talked to Susie much in the same
way, making light of his disappointment so successfully that the girl
was quite deceived.
At school, however, he was very different, becoming surly and morose,
and making enemies of the boys who would willingly have remained his
friends.
Mr. Broad, too, noticed his altered manner; but knowing the
circumstances, he said nothing, thinking the trouble would soon blow
over; besides, Jim did not neglect his work. He was always punctual,
and had such a quick grasp of his duties that he saved his employer a
great deal of labour.
His usefulness in the shop led Mr. Broad to engage the services of a
smaller boy for the evening round, while Jim was promoted to the dignity
of serving behind the counter. This made him later at night, but he
generally found an opportunity of doing his lessons before going home.
His wages were raised to six shillings a week, and there was some talk
of his going into the business altogether when he left school.
"Keep steady, my boy," said his employer, "learn all you can here, and
there is no reason why you should not get on well."
Unfortunately Jim had drifted away from his schoolmates, seeing little
even of Dick. To a certain extent this was inevitable, but Dick soon
discovered that his old chum was beginning to lose pleasure in his
company.
The truth was that Jim had picked up some new friends, with whom he knew
quite well that Dick would have nothing to do. He himself was a little
ashamed of them, but he eased his conscience by saying he must have some
one to talk to. One night on leaving the shop he found the Angel
outside.
"Hullo, Dick," he said; "anything wrong?"
"Oh no. I had an hour to spare, so I thought I'd come and meet
you--that's all. We haven't seen much of each other lately."
"That isn't my fault."
"No; I'm not blaming you. I was awfully disappointed last night,
though."
Jim's face became red.
"How is that?" he asked.
"Oh, I came round last night just in time to see you going off with
Curly Peters and his chum."
"Why shouldn't I? What's the matter with Curly?"
"Oh, nothing!" replied Dick airily--"only he's a foul-mouthed little
blackguard. Perhaps you'll take him with you on Sunday to see Susie?"