THANKS TO ACTON
After the Carthusian match there was but one topic, or to be strictly
accurate, perhaps, two topics of interest in the school--who would be
cock-house at footer and who would get the Perry Exhibition.
The rest of the houses knew that Biffen's house was not now the
unconsidered article it was once; that it wasn't the door-mat upon which
any one might wipe his feet before proceeding into the inner circles of
the housers' competition, and there was more than a little curiosity to
see how far the "resurrected" house would mount.
But not a single soul dreamt that it would reach the final. The whole
school gasped for a fortnight on end as Biffen's annihilated Dover's,
Hargen's, Sharpe's, and Merishall's _seriatim_, and at last faced
Corker's house in the final. This was a resurrected house with a
vengeance! Corker's had had a bye in the first round and had been drawn
against rather rickety houses since, but they were generally fancied to
pull off the final as usual, for Bourne was captain, and they had Hodgson
and Roberts of the eleven as well. The wonderful progress of Biffen's had
thrown an awful lot of excitement into the game.
The match was fixed for the last Saturday in the term, and the result of
the Perry Exhibition was to be announced on the evening of the same day,
so the last Saturday was going to be the memorable day of the Michaelmas
stretch.
If you want a full account of the match you had better write to the editor
of _The Amorian_. He will send you the magazine with a page or so of
description and account, but all I'm going to say is that Bourne and Acton
played as they had never played before--I think I've said that before
about Acton, but he really was superlative in the housers' final--and that
five minutes from time the score was "one all." Then Acton showed the
school a stroke of genius. He brought Raven out from centre-forward, where
he was quite unable to cope with Bourne, whispered him to go "back" with
Worcester, and before any one could realize what was happening he was
playing forward himself. He' was a "lambent flame along the ground" if you
like. In a second Biffen's were swarming round Roberts in goal, Acton
passed out to Chalmers, who was ready for the pass, and in a twinkling the
ball was in the net. From the row you might have imagined the school had
gone mad.
[Illustration: ACTON JUST REACHED IT WITH HIS HEAD.]
The ball was kicked off again. Almost immediately Acton secured near the
centre. He dribbled through the ruck of his opponents until he saw Bourne
upon him. With a smile of triumph upon his lips he gently rolled the
leather to Chalmers, who was hungrily waiting for the pass out on the
touch-line. Chalmers waltzed beautifully for the short run almost to the
corner flag. He steadied himself for one instant after his run, and then
lifted the ball magnificently into the goal mouth. As the leather was
skimming past, Acton just reached it with his head and deflected it high
and dry out of Roberts' reach into the net. It was the supreme effort
of his splendid game.
Biffen's had won by three goals to one!
They carried Acton off the field in ecstasy, and nearly scared Dame Biffen
out of her wits by the "whisper" of "cock-house." Well, it certainly was
unusual.
After tea the whole of St. Amory's crowded into the Speech Room to hear
the result of the Perry Exhibition. There would not be a fellow away, I
should fancy, bar the cripples in the hospital, for there was no end of
excitement. Was this to be another Biffen's triumph? Was Raven of the
Fifth to beat Hodgson, the chosen of the Sixth, for the Perry? It was not
to be expected that he would, but when the whisper circled round that
Acton had '"coached" him in classics it was agreed that perhaps there
would be another feather in Acton's cap.
The masters were there on the platform in serried ranks, the whole fifty
of them, from Corker to Pfenning who "does" the music.
Corker, as usual, went straight to the mark, whilst the entire mass of
fellows kept a death-like silence. "The result of the examination for the
Perry Exhibition is as follows:--
1st. Arthur Raven, 672 marks.
2nd. Theodore Hodgson, 591 marks.
3rd. Augustus Vernon Robert Todd, 114 marks."
Then out broke the usual uproar, "shivering the silence," as some one
says, "into clamour." We all cheered for Raven, who scored a popular and
unexpected victory, for why should a Fifth Form fellow beat one of the
Sixth? Biffen's crowd kept up the cheering until Corker rose again.
"I can heartily congratulate Raven on his success, for his classical
knowledge was distinctly good. Hodgson I can also congratulate, for his
papers too were good. As for Augustus Vernon Robert Todd"--we all yelled
with laughter as Dr. Moore scrambled in hot haste through Todd's awful
list of names, but were again quiet when he dropped his eye-glasses from
his eagle's beak, a sure sign he was going to "savage" somebody--"as for
_his_ performance in this _examination_, I can only regard it as
a very bad practical joke, or as his _ballon d'essai_ for some
kindergarten scholarship."
Raven got up from his seat near the door. He was pale to the lips, but his
voice was clear and unhesitating. "If you please, sir, may I say a word?"
"Eh, what?" said Corker. "Say a word? Oh, certainly."
"I am very glad indeed to hear that I have won the Perry Exhibition. I
know in my own mind that I could never have beaten my friend Hodgson if I
had not had Acton's help. I owe the winning of the Exhibition entirely to
him, for he has read the whole of the classics with me and helped me in
every way in his power. I cannot thank him enough for all he has done, but
at least I owe him this open acknowledgment."
Corker looked no end pleased, and turned round and beamed on Biffen, whose
good-natured easy face shone with pleasure and delight.
"Biffen," said good old Corker, audibly, "your house is fortunate in
having Acton, and St. Amory such a good amateur coach in classics.
Cock-house, too, bless me!"
And can you wonder that Biffen's, frenzied with delight, carried Raven and
Acton shoulder high through the gas-lit streets?
Whilst the Biffenites were thus shouting their way home, one unhappy youth
hurried to his room feeling as though the moon had fallen out of heaven
and crushed him--Todd. After that night when he had made the bet with
Cotton, he had neither worked for the Perry nor yet left it alone, but
loafed about with Cotton as usual, and piffled with the work for the
Exhibition. As a last-lap spurt, he had, in the last week or so,
desperately stuffed himself with cunning tips leading twistingly to
nowhere. Never had any one faced a serious examination with such a rag-bag
of tips as Todd, and the examination had found him out with a vengeance.
As he slunk along to his quarters, Corker's words were buzzing in his ears
unendingly. "As for Augustus Vernon Robert Todd"--"_ballon
d'essai_"--"Kindergarten!" Oh! it was a sickener, and how the fellows had
laughed!
As for his bet with Cotton about cock-house, why, he had, when he saw
those goals put on at the last moment, felt a cold shiver run down his
back. He had crawled off the Acres a sick and sorry and miserable wretch.
Cotton had, being rather riled at his chum's temper for the last month,
hinted, in unmistakable terms, that the debt was to be paid on return
after holidays. Todd contemplated the ravishing prospect of the future
with unmixed feelings. Between the upper and nether millstones of the lost
Exhibition and the lost bet he had been crashed, annihilated!
When he had shut the study door, in sheer despair of spirit, he laid his
head on the table and--Well, did he blub? All I know is, the Rev. E.
Taylor knocked at the door once, twice, thrice, and Todd heard him not.
The house master came in and surveyed the bowed form of poor Gus with a
good-natured smile, tempered with some scorn. He took the liberty of
loudly poking Gus's decaying fire, whereat the young gentleman sprang up
instanter.
"I knocked, Todd, but I suppose you were thinking too deeply to hear me."
"Sorry, sir," said Gus, hurriedly getting the master a chair, "and, as a
matter of fact, I was thinking."
"Yes!"
"What an awful ass I've been, sir!" "I don't know quite about the ass, but
you've certainly not been an epitome of all that's wise this term. It was
on that very subject that I came here to have a word with you before we go
for the holidays."
Gus looked blankly into the grate.
"This exhibition of yours, Todd, in the examination is just the answer you
might expect to the problem you've set yourself. 'How can I get something
of value by doing nothing for it?' I must say... etc." Taylor spoke very
much to the point to Todd for about half an hour, taking the ribs out of
Gus's conceit one by one, until he felt very much like a damp, damaged
gamp, and about as helpless. One by one he took him through the catalogue
of the aimless, stupid, footling performances in the term, and Gus blankly
wondered how the dickens Taylor knew quite so much of his doings, He felt
that the house master was not a bad imitation of Corker on a flaying
expedition. I must say that Taylor's performance was a considerable trifle
above the average "beak's wigging," but the sting of his discourse was in
the tail. "Now, Todd, would you like me to ask Dr. Moore to transfer you
to some other house, where your very intimate friends will not absorb so
much of your time?"
Todd blushed purple at this very broad hint.
"I'd rather stay where I am; I am not quite an incapable, sir."
"No; I don't think you are--not quite. Dr. Moore, however, is somewhat out
of patience with you, and proposes drastic measures."
"Home?" inquired Todd, with gloomy conviction.
"Yes," said the house master. "Dr. Moore has written your father. But you
are coming back next term, when you will have the chance of showing that
that awful performance in the Exhibition is not your true form. I hope
you'll take it."
Todd said bitterly, "I will, sir."
"I am glad of that," said Taylor, "and I believe you will. Good night,
Todd."
"Good night, sir."
Todd packed up his portmanteaux that night as gloomily and as savagely as
though his shirts were his deadly enemies. But there was a square,
determined thrust-out of his weak chin which boded ill for Jim Cotton's
classics and mathematics in the future.