My name is Abbott, and I came to Merivale two years ago. I have got one
leg an inch and three-quarters shorter than the other, but I make
nothing of it. A nurse dropped me on a fender when I was just born,
owing to a mouse suddenly running across her foot. It was more a
misfortune than anything, and my mother forgave her freely. When I was
old enough I also forgave her. In fact, I only mention it to explain
why I am not going into the Army. All Abbotts do so, and it will be
almost a record my going into something else.
Many chaps have no fighting spirit, and, as a rule, it is not strong in
schoolmasters; yet when the call came for men, three out of our five
answered it and went. Two, who were well up in the Terriers, got
commissions, and the other enlisted, so we were only left with Brown,
who can't see further than a pink-eyed rat and isn't five foot three in
his socks, though in his high-heeled boots he may be, and Fortescue.
You will say this must have had a pretty bright side for us, and, at
first sight, no doubt it looks hopeful. In fact, we took a very
cheerful view of it, because you can do what you like with Brown, and
Fortescue only teaches the Fifth and Sixth.
On the day that Hutchings cleared out to join the Army, and we were only
left with Fortescue, Brown, and the Doctor, we were confronted with
serious news. In fact, after chapel on that day, we heard, much to our
anxiety, that old Dunston himself was going to fill the breach.
Those were his very words. He talked with a sort of ghastly funniness
and used military terms.