The four o'clock bell was sounding up the staircase and down the
passages of Saint Dominic's school. It was a minute behind its time,
and had old Roach, the school janitor, guessed at half the abuse
privately aimed at his devoted head for this piece of negligence, he
might have pulled the rope with a good deal more vivacity than he at
present displayed.
At the signal there was a general shuffling of feet and uproar of
voices--twelve doors swung open almost simultaneously, and next moment
five hundred boys poured out, flooding the staircases and passages,
shouting, scuffling, and laughing, and throwing off by one easy effort
the restraint and gravity of the last six hours.
The usual rush and scramble ensued. Some boys, taking off their coats
and tucking up their sleeves as they ran, made headlong for the
playground. Some, with books under their arms, scuttled off to their
studies. The heroes of the Sixth stalked majestically to their
quarters. The day boarders hurried away to catch the train at Maltby.
A few slunk sulkily to answer to their names in the detention-room, and
others, with the air of men to whom time is no object and exertion no
temptation, lounged about in the corridors with hands in pockets,
regarding listlessly the general stampede of their fellows, and
apparently not knowing exactly what to do with themselves.
Among these last happened to be Bullinger of the Fifth and his
particular friend Ricketts, who, neither of them having any more
tempting occupation, were comfortably leaning up against the door of the
Fourth junior class-room, thereby making prisoners of some twenty or
thirty youngsters, whose infuriated yells and howls from within appeared
to afford the two gentlemen a certain languid satisfaction.
"Open the door! do you hear?" shrieked one little treble voice.
"All right!" piped another. "I know who you are, you cads. See if I
don't tell Dr Senior!"
"Oh, please, I say, I shall lose my train!" whimpered a third.
"Wait till I get out; see if I don't kick your shins!" howled a fourth.
It was no use. In vain these bantams stormed and raved, and entreated
and blubbered. The handle would not turn, and the door would not yield.
Mr Bullinger and his friend vouchsafed no reply, either to their
threats or their supplications, and how long the blockade might have
lasted it is impossible to say, had not a fresh dissension called the
beleaguerers away. A cluster of boys at a corner of the big corridor
near the main entrance attracted their curiosity, and suggested a
possibility of even more entertainment than the goading into fury of a
parcel of little boys, so, taking advantage of a moment when the
besieged had combined, shoulder to shoulder, to make one magnificent and
desperate onslaught on to the obdurate door, they quietly "raised the
siege," and quitting their hold, left the phalanx of small heroes to
topple head over heels and one over another on to the stone floor of the
passage, while they sauntered off arm-in-arm to the scene of the new
excitement.
The object which had attracted the knot of boys whom they now joined was
the School Notice Board, on which, from time to time, were posted
notices of general and particular interest to the school. On this
particular afternoon (the first Friday of the Summer term) it was, as
usual, crowded with announcements, each interesting in its way.
The first was in the handwriting of Dr Senior's secretary, and ran as
follows:--
"A Nightingale Scholarship, value 50 pounds a year for three years, will
fall vacant at Michaelmas. Boys under seventeen are eligible.
Particulars and subject of examination can be had any evening next week
in the secretary's room."
"Fifty-pounds a year _for_ three years!" exclaimed a small boy, with a
half whistle. "I wouldn't mind getting that!"
"Well, why don't you, you avaricious young Jew? You're under seventeen,
I suppose?" retorted the amiable Mr Bullinger, thereby raising a laugh
at the expense of this little boy of eleven, who retired from the scene
extinguished.
The next notice was in the classical handwriting of the secretary of the
Sixth Form Literary Society, and ran as follows:--
"This Society will meet on Tuesday. Subject for debate, `That the
present age is degenerate,' moved by A.E. Callander, opposed by T.
Winter. Boys from the Senior Fifth are invited as auditors."
This notice, even with the patronising postscript, would have passed
without comment, as Sixth Form notices usually did, had not some
audacious hand ventured to alter a word and make the subject of debate,
instead of "That the present age is degenerate," read "That the present
Sixth is degenerate." Who the perpetrator of this outrage might be was
a mystery, but the alteration was quite enough to render the notice very
amusing to many of the readers, especially the Fifth Form boys, and very
terrible to others, especially the small boys, who looked nervous and
guilty, and did not dare by the slightest sign to join in the mirth of
their irreverent seniors. Most of the assembly agreed that "there would
be a row about it," with which assurance they passed on to the next
notice.
"Wanted, a Smart Fag. No Tadpoles or Guinea-pigs need apply. Horace
Wraysford, Fifth Form."
"Bravo, Horatius!" said Ricketts. "A lucky young cub it will be that he
takes on," added he, turning to a group of the small boys near. "He'll
do your sums and look over your exercises for you like one o'clock.
Ugh! though, I suppose every man Jack of you is a Tadpole or a Pig?"
Tadpoles and Guinea-pigs, I should say, were the names given to two
combinations or clubs in the clannish Junior School, the mysteries of
which were known only to their members, but which were not regarded with
favour by the older boys.
As no one answered this charge, Ricketts indulged in a few general
threats, and a few not very complimentary comments on the clubs in
question, and then returned to the notice board, which contained two
more announcements.
"Cricket Notices. To-morrow will be a final big practice, when the
elevens for the `A to M _versus_ N to Z' match on the 25th will be
chosen. `Sixth _versus_ School' will be played on the 1st proxo. The
School Eleven will be selected from among players in the two above
matches."
"A private meeting of the Fifth will be held this afternoon at 4.30 to
discuss an important matter."
"Hullo!" said Bullinger, looking up at the clock, "it's half-past now!
Come along, Rick."
And the two demagogues disappeared arm-in-arm down the passage, followed
by the admiring glances of the juniors, who spent the next half-hour in
wondering what could be the important matter under consideration at the
private meeting of the Fifth. The universal conclusion was that it had
reference to the suppression of the Tadpoles and Guinea-pigs--a
proceeding the very suggestion of which made those small animals tremble
with mingled rage and fear, and sent them off wriggling to their own
quarters, there to deliberate on the means of defence necessary to
protect themselves from the common enemy.
The meeting in the Fifth, however, was to consider a far more important
subject than the rebellious clubs of the Junior School.
The reader will doubtless have inferred, from what has already been
said, that the young gentlemen of the Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's
entertained, among other emotions, a sentiment something like jealousy
of their seniors and superiors in the sixth. Perhaps Saint Dominic's is
not the only school in which such a feeling has existed; but, at any
rate during the particular period to which I am referring, it was pretty
strong there. Not that the two Forms were at war, or that there was any
fear of actual hostilities. It was not so bad as all that. But the
Fifth were too near the heroes of the top Form to consent to submit to
their authority. They would be Sixth men themselves soon, and then of
course they would expect the whole school to reverence them. But till
that time they resented the idea of bowing before these future comrades;
and not only that, they took every opportunity of asserting their
authority among the juniors, and claiming the allegiance for themselves
they refused to render to others. And they succeeded in this very well,
for they took pains to make themselves popular in the school, and to
appear as the champions quite as much as the bullies of the small fry.
The consequence was that while Tadpoles and Guinea-pigs quaked and
blushed in the presence of the majestic Sixth, they quaked and smirked
in the presence of the Fifth, and took their thrashings meekly, in the
hope of getting a Latin exercise looked over or a minor tyrant punished
later on.
Just at the present time, too, the Fifth was made up of a set of fellows
well able to maintain the peculiar traditions of their fellowship. They
numbered one or two of the cleverest boys (for their age) in Saint
Dominic's; and, more important still in the estimation of many, they
numbered not a few of the best cricketers, boxers, football-players, and
runners in the school. With these advantages their popularity as a body
was very great--and it is only due to them to say that they bore their
honours magnanimously, and distributed their kicks and favours with the
strictest impartiality.
Such was the company which assembled on this afternoon in their own
class-room, with closed doors, to deliberate on "private and important
business." About twenty boys were present, and the reader must let me
introduce a few of them, before his curiosity as to the occasion of
their assembling themselves together can be satisfied.
That handsome, jovial-looking boy of sixteen who is sitting there
astride of a chair, in the middle of the floor, biting the end of a
quill pen, is the redoubtable Horace Wraysford, the gentleman, it will
be remembered, who is in want of a fag. Wraysford is one of the best
"all-round men" in the Fifth, or indeed in the school. He is certain to
be in the School Eleven against the County, certain to win the mile race
and the "hurdles" at the Athletic Sports, and is not at all unlikely to
carry off the Nightingale Scholarship next autumn, even though one of
the Sixth is in for it too. Indeed, it is said he would be quite
certain of this honour, were it not that his friend and rival Oliver
Greenfield, who is standing there against the wall, with his head
resting on a map of Greece, is also in for it. Greenfield does not
strike one as nearly so brilliant a fellow as his friend. He is quieter
and more lazy, and more solemn. Some say he has a temper, and others
that he is selfish; and generally he is not the most popular boy in
Saint Dominic's. Wraysford, however, sticks to him through thick and
thin, and declares that, so far from being ill-tempered and selfish, he
is one of the best fellows in the school, and one of the cleverest. And
Mr Wraysford is prepared to maintain his allegation at the point of
the--knuckle! That hulking, ugly youth is Braddy, the bully, the terror
of the Guinea-pigs, and the laughing-stock of his own class-mates. The
boy who is fastening a chalk duster on to the collar of Braddy's coat is
Tom Senior, the Doctor's eldest son, who, one would have imagined, might
have learned better manners. Last, not least (for we need not
re-introduce Messrs. Ricketts or Bullinger, or go out of our way to
present Simon, the donkey of the Form, to the reader), is Master Anthony
Pembury, the boy now mounting up onto a chair with the aid of two
friends. Anthony is lame, and one of the most dreaded boys in Saint
Dominic's. His father is editor of the _Great Britain_, and the son
seems to have inherited his talent for saying sharp things. Woe betide
the Dominican who raises Tony's dander! He cannot box, he cannot
pursue; but he can _talk_, and he can ridicule, as his victims all the
school over know.
He it is who has, of his own sweet will, summoned together the present
meeting, and the business he is now about to explain.
"The fact is, you fellows," he begins, "I wanted to ask your opinion
about a little idea of my own. You know the _Sixth Form Magazine_?"
"Rather," says Ricketts; "awful rubbish too! Papers a mile long in it
about Greek roots; and poetry about the death of Seneca, and all that
sort of thing."
"That's just it," continued Pembury; "it's rubbish, and unreadable; and
though they condescend to let us see it, I don't suppose two fellows in
the Form ever wade through it."
"I know _I don't_, for one," says Wraysford, laughing; "I _did_ make a
start at that ode on the birth of Senior junior in the last, which began
with--
"`Hark, 'tis the wail of an infant that wakes the still echoes of
lofty Olympus,'
"but I got no farther."
"Yes," says Tom Senior, "Wren wrote that. I felt it my duty to
challenge him for insulting the family, you know. But he said it was
meant as a compliment, and that the Doctor was greatly pleased with it."
"Well," resumed Pembury, laughing, "they won't allow any of us to
contribute. I suggested it to the editor, and he said (you know his
stuck-up way), `They saw no reason for opening their columns to any but
Sixth Form fellows.' So what I propose is, that we get up a paper of
our own!"
"Upon my word, it's a splendid idea!" exclaimed Wraysford, jumping up in
raptures. And every one else applauded Pembury's proposition.
"We've as good a right, you know," he continued, "as they have, and
ought to be able to turn out quite as respectable a paper."
"Rather," says Ricketts, "if you'll only get the fellows to write."
"Oh, I'll manage that," said Anthony.
"Of course you'll have to be editor, Tony," says Bullinger.
"If you like," says the bashful Tony, who had no notion of _not_ being
editor.
"Well, I call that a splendid idea," says Braddy. "Won't they be in a
fury? (Look here, Senior, I wish you wouldn't stick your pins into my
neck, do you hear?)"
"What shall we call it?" some one asks.
"Ah, yes," says Pembury, "we ought to give it a good name."
"Call it the _Senior Wrangler_," suggested Ricketts.
"Sounds too like a family concern," cried Tom Senior.
"Suppose we call it the _Fifth Form War Whoop_," proposed Wraysford,
amid much laughter.
"Or the _Anti-Sixth_," says Braddy, who always professes an implacable
enmity towards the Sixth when none of them are near to hear him.
"Not at all," says Greenfield, speaking now for the first time. "What's
the use of making fools of ourselves? Call it the _Dominican_, and let
it be a paper for the whole school."
"Greenfield is right," adds Pembury. "If we can make it a regular
school paper it will be a far better slap at the Sixth than if we did
nothing but pitch into them. Look here, you fellows, leave it to me to
get out the first number. We'll astonish the lives out of them--you
see!"
Every one is far too confident of Tony's capacity to raise an objection
to this proposal; and after a good deal more talk, in which the idea of
the _Dominican_ excites quite an enthusiasm among these amiable young
gentlemen, the meeting breaks up.
That evening, as the fellows passed down the corridor to prayers, a new
notice appeared on the board:
"The first number of the _Dominican_ will appear on the 24th inst."
"What does it mean?" asked Raleigh of the Sixth, the school captain, of
his companion, as they stopped to examine this mysterious announcement;
"there's no name to it."
"I suppose it's another prank of the Fifth. By the way, do you see how
one of them has altered this debating society notice?"
"Upon my word," said Raleigh reading it, and smiling in spite of
himself, "they are getting far too impudent. I must send a monitor to
complain of this."
And so the two grandees walked on.
Later in the evening Greenfield and Wraysford sat together in the study
of the former.
"Well, I see the Nightingale is vacant at last. Of course you are going
in, old man?" said Wraysford.
"Yes, I suppose so; and you?" asked the other.
"Oh, yes. I'll have a shot, and do my best."
"I don't mean to let you have it, though," said Greenfield, "for the
money would be valuable to me if I ever go up to Oxford."
"Just the reason I want to get it," said Wraysford, laughing. "By the
way, when is your young brother coming?"
"This week, I expect."
"I wonder if he'll fag for me?" asked Wraysford, mindful of his
destitute condition.
Greenfield laughed. "You'd better ask the captain about that. I can't
answer for him. But I must be off now. Good-night."
And an hour after that Saint Dominic's was as still and silent as,
during the day, it had been bustling and noisy.