THE ENERGY OF JACK WARD
After Nina went to Paris Fred spent most of his time in trying to be
cheerful, but for some days he looked as if he had lost something and
expected to find it round the next corner. I was very patient, though
I do not believe he understood how often I wanted to argue with him.
By the end of the vac, however, he had forgotten to be gloomy, and I
hoped that Oxford would cure him altogether, for he had a good chance
of getting his Rugger blue, and he had got to read; besides, I have
never been able to see that perpetual gloom is of any use to anybody.
I went back to St. Cuthbert's full of desperate resolutions. I wanted
to make every one in the college understand that it was the slackest
place in Oxford, and having done that I wished to find the men who
would make it keener. The scheme was a gigantic one for me to take up;
it needed tact, and I went at it so vigorously that in a few days I had
offended some men and had succeeded in making others look upon me as a
freak. Dennison told me that I had a bee in my bonnet. If he had said
that I was mad I should not have minded, but those horrid little
expressions of his always tried me very much, and I am bound to confess
that my first efforts to rouse the college met with more ridicule than
success. Very few men seemed to care what happened to us, and nearly
everybody pretended that our eight would rise again, and our footer
teams cease to be laughed at, though no one tried to make them any
better. Dennison wrote a skit called "The Decline and Fall of St.
Cuthbert's"; and some artist, who thought that my nose was as big as my
arm, made a drawing of me in which I was trying to carry the college on
my back, and was so overburdened by the weight of it that nothing but
my nose prevented me from being crushed to the ground. It was very
funny and also very unfair in more ways than one, because I did not
start my crusade with any idea of becoming important, and I have no
feature which is superlatively large.
This skit of Dennison's really settled me for a time, but I did stir up
one or two men whom I had never expected to do anything. Jack Ward
stopped driving about with Bunny Langham, and began to play footer, and
Collier actually went down to the river every afternoon. Physical
incapability prevented him from rowing well, but he persuaded several
other men, who did not suffer as he did, to go through the same
drudgery, and for self-sacrifice I thought he was hard to beat, because
he was quite a comical sight in a boat. What good did come from my
first crusade was due chiefly to him; a kind of revivalist spirit was
upon him, and many unsuspecting freshers who had only thought of the
river as a place to avoid, were unable to resist his entreaties.
The dons heard of my crusade, and I know that Mr. Edwardes did not like
it, but I had two of them on my side, and the others did not take any
active measures against me. Mr. Edwardes took the trouble to tell me
that I was mistaken in thinking that the reputation of St. Cuthbert's
depended upon athletics, and I answered that I had never supposed
anything of the kind, but that I thought a college which was slack
about other things would end by being slack in the schools. This reply
of mine surprised him so much that he told me that any campaign to be
successful must be managed by the right people, and I agreed with him
cordially, for although I knew that plenty of men would have worried
everybody out of their slackness much more successfully than I could, I
was not going to tell him so.
The Bursar supported me soundly, and we had a new don at the beginning
of my second year who took a most invigorating interest in the college.
He was known to us as "The Bradder," and though his real name was
Bradfield it was seldom used, and as far as we were concerned he could
have done quite well without it. I had become so accustomed to aged
dons that I could not understand him at first, he was so very young.
He was also reported to be very clever, but I was so impressed by his
youthfulness that it took me some time to believe that he would ever
count for much. I ought, however, to have known that The Bradder was
not the kind of man who would allow himself to become a nonentity, for
he was full of energy and determination.
I was never able to find out how the dons heard of my scheme, but they
find out most things by some extraordinary means, and The Bradder spoke
to me very encouragingly about it, though he looked at me as if I
amused him in some odd sort of way. He also asked me to breakfast,
which I thought was carrying kindness a little too far. I anticipated
the usual thing--a crowd of men with large appetites, and a host who
abstained from food in his efforts to provide conversation; but when I
went to The Bradder's rooms I found that I was in for a _tête-à-tête_,
and my opinion of the other kind of breakfast rose considerably. As a
don I was not in the least nervous of him, but as a host I thought he
might be overwhelming.
That he ever lived through this meal without laughing was a marvel, for
when I was sitting opposite to him my nervousness vanished, and I told
him exactly what I thought about every subject he suggested, and it was
not until I had left him that it occurred to me that I had been talking
nearly all the time, and that he had said very little. I determined
that he was a most thoroughly good sort, but the idea of his being a
don struck me as being absurd. I put him on my side with the Warden
and the Bursar, and thought that Mr. Edwardes was in a hopeless
minority of one in persecuting me, for I looked upon the Subby as a man
who had been born to be neutral. I do not suppose that I should ever
have started my first crusade if I had known that it was going to cause
the mildest of sensations. As far as I had thought about it at all, I
had imagined that everybody in St. Cuthbert's would be glad to see the
college take its usual place again, and certainly I had no idea that I
should be violently supported and opposed. The captains of everything
were in favour of less slackness, but Dennison and all his set said
that an Oxford college was not a public school, and talked a lot of
nonsense about the iniquity of compulsory games. No further proof is
needed to show how unfair they were, for a man must be mad to dream of
compulsory games at Oxford, and such an idea never entered my head.
But all this talking made me wish that I had never said or done
anything, and before long I was heartily tired of the whole thing, for
my own affairs became rather more than I could manage.
At the beginning of the term I had moved into larger rooms, and I was
elected to both Vincent's and the St. Cuthbert's wine club. Murray
advised me not to join the wine club, because I was an exhibitioner,
and the dons would be sure to fix their eyes steadfastly upon me if I
did. But Jack Ward was very anxious for me to join, and every other
member, except Dennison, who was only elected when I was, spoke to me
about it. So I became one of the twelve Mohocks, which only meant that
I could give a guest a good dinner three or four times a term, and
after that take him to the rooms of the club where there was a big
dessert, and old Rodoski, who was concealed in the bedder, unless some
one asked him to show himself, provided music. When we had finished
with Rodoski we went out of college and played pool, and then we came
back and played cards. There was not much harm about the whole thing,
and occasionally it was quite dull, but some of our dons had got hold
of the idea that a Mohock must be a rowdy and riotous person. Mr.
Edwardes was one of them, and I found out very soon that he considered
that I ought not to have joined the club. I did not, however, feel in
the least like resigning, for though there were one or two members who
took delight in nothing which was not an orgie, they were generally
suppressed before they made much noise. A club of this kind depends a
good deal upon its President, and we had a man who thought far too much
of the reputation of the Mohocks to insult his guests by a common
pandemonium.
My position with Mr. Edwardes had become a critical one when I broke my
collar-bone playing against Richmond, and suddenly ceased to be a
culprit and became an invalid. At the time I was very sick at my
footer ending so abruptly, but my accident was really a stroke of good
luck, for I feel certain that I should have been turned out of the
'Varsity fifteen anyhow. An Irish international named Hogan had come
up who was, I thought, a really good full-back, and each time I was
asked to play for the 'Varsity I expected to be my last. But as soon
as there was no chance of my playing against Cambridge I got no end of
sympathy, and nearly all the team told me that my absence weakened the
side, though previously some of them had said the same thing about my
presence. My accident settled the question of who was to be the
'Varsity back quite conveniently; it also made me give up all thoughts
of my crusade, and gave me plenty of time to read. I should not think
anybody's collar-bone has ever been broken at such an opportune moment.
Fred played against Cambridge, but our forwards were hopelessly beaten,
and no one distinguished himself for us except Hogan, who lost two
teeth and covered himself with glory.
At the end of the Lent term both Fred and I got seconds in Moderations;
mine was not a good second and Fred's was almost a first, so what would
have happened if Fred had been smashed up instead of me is not worth
inquiring, for there is no doubt that I did more work than he did.
Murray got a first, which was what everybody expected; he was one of
the few men I have ever seen who read logic because he liked it.
I cannot say that Mr. Edwardes was very pleased about my second, for he
had told me I should be lucky to get a third, and in my case I believe
he would rather have been a truthful prophet than a moderately
successful tutor. When I asked him if I might read history for my
final examinations he was doubtful if I was not seeking a degree by the
least fatiguing way, but The Bradder was a history tutor, and although
I had found out that he was a very strenuous man, I meant to work with
him. So after many warnings against idleness I was allowed to do as I
wanted, and Mr. Edwardes got rid of me, which must have pleased him
very much. I do not think that any one else ever upset him so
completely as I did, and I have never been able to find out why he
disapproved of me to such an extent, unless it was that until I got
accustomed to him I thought him funny, and when I think anybody or
anything funny I have to laugh. No one else laughed at Mr. Edwardes
except me, and I should not have done so if I could have helped it, but
an unintentionally comic don causes a lot of trouble.
Mr. Grace, the senior history don in St. Cuthbert's, was more like a
very benevolent parent than a tutor. Perhaps he was rather old for his
work, but he was so extraordinarily peaceful that you could not help
liking him, and I had a vague feeling that he was my grandfather. The
change from Mr. Edwardes to him was like going to bed in a choppy sea
and waking up in a punt on the Cherwell. I can't explain the feeling I
had for him, but he seemed to be surrounded by a homely atmosphere, and
he reminded me of hot-water bottles and well-aired beds without making
me feel stuffy. You worked for him because it struck you as being
hopelessly unfair to annoy him if you could help it. He was a most
pleasant old gentleman, and a very convenient tutor to have in a summer
term. The Bradder, however, to whom I had also to read essays, scoffed
when I told him that I had two years and a term before my examinations,
and generally speaking allowed me to see that he was going to stand no
nonsense. If he had been less of a sportsman I should have thought him
more inconvenient, for I never found an excuse which he considered a
reasonable one, and after I had done two very short essays for him he
let me understand that I must do more work if I wanted him to be
pleasant.
"Look here, Marten, it won't do," he said to me when I had read my
second essay to him, which even surprised me by its early closing.
"This could not have taken you a quarter of an hour to write, and you
have read it in five minutes."
I had tried to lengthen my essay by stopping to discuss any point which
might make him talk, but he knew all about that time-worn device, and
had told me to finish reading before we discussed anything, and when I
had finished there did not seem much to discuss.
"It's the summer term, and I read very fast," I said, because he was
waiting for me to say something.
"Don't," he answered; "poor excuses are worse than none. When I began
to read history, I wrote telegrams instead of essays, and I tried to
make my tutor talk so that he should fill up the time, just as you have
done. But I found out in a month that history is not a joke, and that
my tutor was not a fool. You have got to read seriously, whatever else
you may do; we may as well understand each other from the start."
I gathered up my essay slowly, for he had, as he spoke, scattered what
there was of it over the table.
"It would be better to use a note-book than any odd piece of paper that
happens to come your way," he said, and added, "if you are slack about
your work, you may end by being slack at other things."
"So you have been talking to Mr. Edwardes about me," I said, and I was
annoyed.
"Perhaps it would be truer to say that Mr. Edwardes has been talking to
me about you," he answered. "You will probably like history very much
if you will only give yourself a chance; don't think a fourth is any
good to you--or me."
"I'm only just through Mods," I replied, "you do go at a fearful rate."
"You will have to be bustled until you get interested," he answered,
"and I will bustle you all right, you can trust me to do that."
I expect that The Bradder knew that I should not care about being
bustled by him, and the result of his conversation with me was that he
got a great deal of essay out of me with very little trouble to
himself, though I thought that he was mistaken in making me start at
such a furious pace, and I asked him, without any effect, if he had
ever heard of men being overtrained.
Although no one expected our eight to make any bumps, I think they
astonished everybody by going down four places, and as we were being
bumped by colleges which were generally in danger of being bottom of
the river, a wholesome feeling spread over most of us that as a joke
our rowing was nearly played out. We began to talk about what we would
do next year, but Jack Ward was so disgusted with everything that he
suddenly determined that he had wasted nearly two years, and meant to
make up for lost time by doing everything with all his might.
I thought these terrific resolutions came from a row he had with
Dennison about cards, a disagreeable row in which Dennison said such
nasty things that had I been Jack, I should have picked him up and
dropped him out of the window; but by some extraordinary means Jack
kept his temper until he told him to shut up, and that ended the whole
thing, for Dennison knew when it was wise to be silent. I did not
think much of Jack's resolutions, for he had been doing no work for
such a long time and with such perfect success, that a complete change
was more than I was able to grasp. Every one in St. Cuthbert's was
supposed to read for honours in some school or other, and Jack, having
scrambled through pass "Mods," had for a year pretended to read law. I
never saw him doing it, but he had a most effective way of fooling
dons, and, as far as his work was concerned, he never seemed to be
worried. When, however, he came to me three weeks before the end of
the term, and told me he was going to give up law and read history, I
thought he was seeking trouble.
"You will have to work if you have anything to do with The Bradder," I
told him.
"For the last ten minutes I have been trying to make you understand
that I want to work," he answered, but still I did not believe him.
"All your law will be wasted," I said.
"I don't know any, so that's all right."
"But the dons won't let you change."
"I can manage them; the history people won't want me, but the law
people will be glad to get rid of me, I have sounded them already."
"You will end by reading theology," I said.
He gave a great laugh and said he didn't know where he should end, and
that all he wanted to do was to work. But he spoke of working as if it
was a new sort of game, and I thought his desire to try it would vanish
as quickly as it had come, so I was surprised when he tackled The
Bradder, and persuaded him that history was the only subject in which
he could ever take a decent class. Without the consent of anybody, he
stopped going to the lectures to which he was supposed to go, and came
to my rooms at all hours of the day to borrow books and read them.
Apparently he had become a kind of free-lance, having shaken off his
old tutors and not having got any new ones, but he read through a short
history of England three times in a week because he said he wanted a
good solid ground-work to build upon. Perhaps The Bradder asked that
he might be left alone, for certainly no one bothered him and he
bothered nobody with the exception of me. I admit that I found him a
very great nuisance, for I had been compelled to read during the last
two terms, and I had not been smitten with any enthusiasm for an
examination which was in the far distance. In fact I wanted to slack,
and I did not see why Jack should choose my rooms to work in. The mere
sight of him annoyed me; he took his coat off and turned up his
shirt-sleeves to read, and whenever I made the slightest noise he told
me to be quiet. I impressed upon him most earnestly that he could go
anywhere he liked or didn't like, but he had settled upon me, and
nothing I did could make him go or lose his temper. After a few days I
got quite accustomed to him, and I believe that I should have missed
him if he had not come to annoy me, but he showed no signs of
slackening off, and I was watching for them every day.
We were within a few days of the end of term before I believed that
Jack had any serious intentions of changing his manner of living, and
then he explained the whole thing to me.
"I have worked for a solid fortnight," he said to me, "and if I can go
on for a fortnight I can go on for two years. I didn't want to explain
anything until I knew whether it was any good, for I have never worked
before in my life and I didn't know what it was like. My father has
suddenly got very sick with me, and says I have got to read or go down
altogether; besides I am tired of doing nothing, and there are enough
slackers in the college without me. We have got to pull this place
together somehow." He threw himself into an arm-chair and picked up
_The Ordeal of Richard Feverel_. "George Meredith," he said, "I tried
him once," and he shook his head.
"Try him again."
"I shan't have time, you are always coming out in unexpected places. I
should have thought you would have liked a good sporting novel, I can't
understand Meredith."
"The Bradder told me to read this."
"The Bradder's an idiot; you be careful, or you'll write stuff which
the examiners won't trouble to read. An examiner doesn't like any
other style except his own."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I guess from the look of them, they must get so horribly tired; facts
are what I mean to give them, piles of dates and things like that.
Just let 'em know what I know at once and no rot about it."
"You have got to write essays, not answer questions like a
Sunday-school class," I said, and yawned.
"The Bradder will have to teach me all about essays, but I am going to
stick to plain English, no going round corners for me. I mean to row
next year, and I am going to be coached in the vac; if I don't get into
the college eight next summer, I----"
"Aren't you going to do a lot?" I interrupted him by asking.
"I have always done a lot; hunting three times a week is a lot when you
play footer and cards as well. We will read after dinner for three
hours."
I yawned again, for I had had very little fun for some time, and I felt
as if a little relaxation would do me good. An Irish M.P. was coming
to speak during that evening about the advantages of Home Rule, and
although I thought Home Rule meant the disruption of the Empire and
many other things, I wanted to hear what this man had to say, and to
see if anything exciting happened. The Bradder had told me that there
was a good deal to be said in favour of Home Rule, but I put him down
as a Radical and did not take any notice of him. The first thing I can
ever remember about politics was my father saying that Radicals talked
nothing but nonsense, and that had remained with me and was mixed up
with the things which I most truly believed. The Bradder, however,
made me think that Radicals were not bound to be hopeless persons. I
don't know how he did it, but I think it was by telling me that I was
one at heart. I never thought half so badly of them after that.
But if what I must apologize for calling my politics were rather wobbly
just then, ten thousand Bradders could not make me a Home Ruler, and
had I not known that other things happen at political meetings in
Oxford besides the ordinary programme, I might have been content to
stay in college and go on being dull and peaceable. As it was I
thought that Jack and I had earned something in the way of excitement,
and after a good deal of persuasion he started with me, but when we got
to the meeting the place was packed with an audience which, from the
noise, seemed to consist largely of undergraduates singing "Rule
Britannia." We talked eloquently to the men at the doors, without
getting past them. One of them told me that they had already admitted
far too many of our kind, and then added that there was no room for
anybody else whatever kind he might be, so we went over to Bunny
Langham's rooms, which--for he was not living in college--were opposite
the hall in which the M.P. was speaking. There were more than
half-a-dozen men in Bunny's rooms when we got to them, and I found out
that he had been scattering invitations broadcast during the afternoon.
A lot of other men came in soon afterwards, but nobody did anything
more extraordinary than sing out of tune until the meeting had
finished. I was sitting by the window looking down on the people who
had been in the hall, and nearly everybody had gone out of St.
Aldgate's when Bunny came up to me and said he thought he should make a
short speech. He went away and came back with a horn, which he blew so
lustily that in two or three minutes he had collected a small crowd in
front of the house.
"They are not enough," he said, and he blew on his horn until I should
think fifty or sixty people were standing in the street. Then he put
his head out of the window and shouted, "Silence. I will, if you will
permit me, say a few words to you on burning questions of the day."
The crowd was almost entirely made up of loafers from the town, and
they received him with loud cries of approval.
"Fellow-citizens of Oxford," he began, and was told at once to speak
up, and asked if his mother knew he was out and other ancient
questions, which interrupted but did not discourage him.
"Fellow-citizens of Oxford," he repeated, "who have assembled in your
thousands----" His next words were drowned by a rude man, with a
blatant voice, telling him that he was a blooming liar.
"Fellow-citizens and burgesses of Oxford, who have assembled in your
thousands to hear--" Bunny began once more, but the rude man shouted
that he was not at a concert, and when he wanted to listen to the same
thing over and over again he was not too shy to say so.
"I shall have to ask you to remove that gentleman, he is mistaking me
for one of his unfortunate family," Bunny shouted back, and was told to
go on and not mind Tom Briggs. It was not possible, however, for him
to make himself heard, and instead of continuing his speech he and Tom
Briggs talked to each other, until some one behind me threw a banana at
Tom and knocked his hat off. At the same moment I saw the proctor and
his bull-dogs coming down the street, and in a minute we had turned out
all the lights in the room and gone up-stairs. There we stayed until
we heard the proctor leave the house.
"That's a bit of luck," said Jack, as we sat down again.
"I can't make out what the deuce has happened," Bunny answered, "he
must have spotted the house."
"Perhaps he didn't want to catch us; after all we were not doing much,"
some man, whose experience of proctors must have been limited, said.
We got back to the room and heard a tremendous booing in the street,
for the crowd, deprived of their fun, were letting the proctor know
what they thought of him.
"That's splendid," Bunny said, "it's a real score if he doesn't send
for us in the morning. If he does he will be sick to death with me,
I've been progged three times already this term. Pull the curtains and
let's light up again."
"It's about time we went," Jack said; "has the crowd gone?"
I looked out of the window and told him there were only a few people
left in the street, but just as we were going there was a knock at the
door and a man came into the room.
"Halloa, Marsden," Bunny said; "I am afraid we have been making rather
a row in here, perhaps you put a towel round your head and went on
reading. Didn't you tell me you tied cloths over your ears when you
wanted to be quiet?"
"It's not much of a joke having rooms in the same house with you,"
Marsden answered, and looked very solemn.
"Don't say that," Bunny answered. "Have a drink, I'm generally as
quiet as a lamb."
Marsden sat on the table and refused to drink.
"It's no joke being in the same house with you," he said again, and
began to laugh.
"I'm not going to set fire to the place or blow it up," Bunny replied.
"But the house becomes infested with proctors."
"Did you see the 'proggins?'"
"He came into my room and progged both Carslake and me. He said we
were disturbing the peace of the town."
"He didn't, did he?" Bunny exclaimed, and then went off into such fits
of laughter that for some time he could do nothing but cough and choke.
"He couldn't have chosen a funnier man. A sneeze is about the biggest
row you have ever made in your life. Didn't you tell him you had
nothing to do with the rag?" he asked at last.
"I left you to do that; he wouldn't listen to me, he seemed to be in a
hurry to get it over," Marsden said.
"Was he Carter of Queen's, or the other man?"
"Carter."
"I'll be at Queen's at nine o'clock to-morrow, so you and Carslake
needn't bother to go; Carter knows me. I am awfully sorry he has been
shoving himself into your rooms; the worst of this place is, there is
no privacy, Carter just goes where he pleases," and Bunny rang the bell
and told his servant that he wanted a hansom in the morning at ten
minutes to nine. There were only a few of us left in his rooms, but
every one said they would be at Queen's to meet him, though he told us
not to make fools of ourselves. "I asked Carter the last time I went
to him to let me off a shilling because he had kept my cab waiting, and
he fined me double for impertinence. I should think this would cost
about two pounds, and I've got about thirty sixpences up-stairs, he
shall have all those," he continued. "I'll have some fun for my money,
so you fellows had better let me see it through by myself, I made the
speech and blew the horn," but as we had all been in the affair we
couldn't back out of it because we had been caught.
I walked as far as St. Cuthbert's with a New College man, who thought
we should have to pay more than two pounds. "Carter will be so
precious sick at being hooted in the street, we shan't get off under a
fiver each," he said, and when I got back to college I went up to
Jack's rooms to wait and see what he thought we should have to pay.
I was nearly asleep when Jack came in.
"Phillips says we shall have to pay a fiver each, what do you think?" I
said, without turning round, and instead of answering me Jack went
straight into his bedder and seemed to be washing himself vigorously.
"What are you doing?" I shouted, but Jack went on washing, so I shut up
asking questions.
In a few minutes he came back into the room, and stood in front of me
with a candle held up in front of his face. His lips were swollen, and
there was a great cut, which kept on bleeding, over his right eyebrow.
"I look nice, don't I?" he said. "I've had a fight with a man who told
me that his name was Briggs."
By degrees I got the whole tale out of him, but it is no fun trying to
talk when a great coal-heaving man has hit you in the mouth with his
fist. Jack had come home by himself, and as he was turning out of the
High by B.N.C. Tom Briggs, who had followed him all the way, charged
into him. Then there was a little conversation, and Briggs called Jack
something especially horrid, and gave him a shove at the same time, so
Jack hit him on the nose. After this there was a rough-and-tumble,
until that most inquisitive man Carter and his bull-dogs came up and
caught Jack. What happened to Briggs he did not know.
"You mustn't tell Carter that you were at Bunny's," I said, after I had
blamed myself, until Jack was tired, for having persuaded him to start
to that wretched meeting.
"That's a trifle compared with this," he answered, and he was right.
There was a huge row, and it ended in Jack being sent down for the rest
of the term. A man, who had been lurking about somewhere, said that he
saw Jack hit Briggs first, which was true as far as it went, but hard
luck on Jack all the same.
Bunny wanted to have a procession to the station when Jack went away,
but he absolutely refused to have any fuss whatever, and altogether
took his luck like a sportsman.
If I had only waited for him, or never bothered him to go out at all,
this would never have happened, and tired as I have often been of
myself, I do not think I have ever felt more utterly wretched than I
was during the last few days of that term when I, who ought really to
have been in Jack's place, was still in Oxford, and Jack was with his
very angry people.
I went to the Warden and told him that Jack would never have gone out
of college that night if it hadn't been for me, but all he said was
that the Proctor had taken a serious view of the case, and he would not
have anybody in the college brawling in the streets. I also wrote to
Jack's people and told them that the whole thing was my fault, but his
father's answer was very short and disagreeable; he had entirely lost
his temper.
Dennison and his friends made the most of this misfortune, and I
suppose it was natural that they should think it a comical finish to
Jack's attempts at working. For the rest of the term I did not care
what happened to anybody or anything. I was thoroughly sick with my
luck, and when you are born with a faculty for disobeying rules and
offending authorities and have trampled upon your inclinations for a
long year without any result except disaster, it is enough to make you
think that fighting Nature is a perfectly absurd thing to do. It was
very fortunate that the term was nearly over, for I had a mad idea that
the best way to make up to Jack for getting him sent down was to get
sent down myself; but The Bradder, who knew how foolish I could be,
nipped my demonstrations in the bud, and gave me some of the
straightest advice I have ever listened to. He was very rude indeed.
One of the few good things about this term was that Fred batted
splendidly, he was not successful afterwards against Cambridge, but we
had every reason for thinking that they were an exceptionally strong
eleven. I bowled faster than ever, and a little straighter than the
year before; I was said to be the fastest bowler at Oxford, and I heard
two men saying in Vincent's that their idea of bliss was my bowling on
a good wicket. But when I lowered a newspaper and showed myself they
pretended that it was a joke.