Loman was a comparatively new boy at Saint Dominic's. He had entered
eighteen months ago, in the Fifth Form, having come direct from another
school. He was what many persons would call an agreeable boy, although
for some reason or other he was never very popular. What that something
was, no one could exactly define. He was clever, and good-tempered, and
inoffensive. He rarely quarrelled or interfered with any one, and he
had been known to do more than one good-natured act. But whether it was
that he was conceited, or selfish, or not quite straight, or a little
bit of all three, he never made any very great friends at Saint
Dominic's, and since he had got into the Sixth and been made a monitor,
he had quite lost the favour of his old comrades in the Fifth.
As far as Wraysford and Greenfield were concerned, this absence of
goodwill had ripened into something like soreness, by the way in which
Loman had made use of his own position as a monitor, on a casual
reference by Oliver to the probable coming of Stephen to Saint
Dominic's, to secure that young gentleman as his fag, although he quite
well knew that Wraysford was counting on having him. Though of course
the captain's word was final, the two friends felt that they had not
been quite fairly dealt with in the matter. They took no trouble to
conceal what they thought from Loman himself, who seemed to derive
considerable satisfaction from the fact, and to determine to keep his
hand on the new boy quite as much for the sake of "scoring off" his
rivals as on the fag's own account.
Loman, Wraysford, and Greenfield _were_ rivals in more matters than one.
They were all three candidates for a place in the school eleven, and
all three candidates for the Nightingale Scholarship next autumn; and
besides this, they each of them aspired to control the Junior
Dominicans; and it was a sore mortification to Loman to find that,
though a monitor, his influence among the small fry was by no means as
great as that of the two Fifth Form boys, who were notoriously popular,
and thought much of by their juniors.
For these and other reasons, the relations between the two friends and
Loman were at the present time a little "strained."
To Stephen, however, Loman was all civility. He helped him in his
lessons, and gave him the reversion of his feasts, and exercised his
monitorial authority against Master Bramble in a way that quite charmed
the new boy, and made him consider himself fortunate to have fallen into
the hands of so considerate a lord.
When he entered Loman's study after his first morning's work in class,
he found that youth in a highly amiable frame of mind, and delighted to
see him.
"Hullo, Greenfield!" he said; "how are you? and how are you getting on?
I hear you are in the Fourth Junior; all among the Guinea-pigs and
Tadpoles, eh? Which do you belong to?"
"I don't know," said Stephen; "they are going to draw lots for me
to-morrow."
"That's a nice way of being elected! I say, have you any classes this
afternoon?"
"No; Mr Rastle has given us a half-holiday."
"That's just the thing. I'm going to scull up the river a bit after
dinner, and if you'd like you can come and steer for me."
Stephen was delighted. Of all things he liked boating. They lived near
a river at home, he said, and he always used to steer for Oliver there.
So, as soon as dinner was over, the two went down to the boathouse and
embarked.
"Which way shall you row?" asked Stephen, as he made himself comfortable
in the stern of the boat, and took charge of the rudder-lines.
"Oh, up stream. Keep close in to the bank, out of the current."
It was a beautiful afternoon, and Loman paddled lazily and luxuriously
up, giving ample time to Stephen, if so inclined, to admire the wooded
banks and picturesque windings of the Shar. Gusset Lock was reached in
due time, and here Loman suggested that Stephen should get out and go
round and look at the weir, while he went on and took the boat through.
Stephen acceded and landed, and Loman paddled on to the lock.
"Hello, maister," called down a feeble old voice, as he got up to the
gate.
"Hullo, Jeff, is Cripps about?" replied Loman.
"Yas; he be inside or somewheres, maister," replied the old lock-keeper.
"All right! take the boat up; I want to see Cripps."
Cripps was the son of the old man whom Loman had addressed as Jeff. He
was not exactly a gentleman, for he kept the Cockchafer public-house at
Maltby, and often served behind the bar in his own person. Neither was
he altogether a reputable person, for he frequently helped himself to an
overdose of his own beverages, besides being a sharp hand at billiards,
and possessing several packs of cards with extra aces in them. Neither
was he a particularly refined personage, for his choice of words was
often more expressive than romantic, and his ordinary conversation was
frequently the reverse of edifying; it mainly had to do with details of
the stable or the card-room, and the anecdotes with which he enlivened
it were often "broader than they were long," to put it mildly. In
short, Cripps was a blackguard by practice, whatever he was by
profession. He had, however, one redeeming virtue; he was very partial
to young gentlemen, and would go a good bit out of his way to meet one.
He always managed to know of something that young gentlemen had a fancy
for. He could put them into the way of getting a thoroughbred bull-dog
dirt-cheap; he could put them up to all the tips at billiards and "Nap,"
and he could make up a book for them on the Derby or any other race,
that was bound to win. And he did it all in such a pleasant, frank way
that the young gentlemen quite fell in love with him, and entrusted
their cash to him with as much confidence as if he were the Bank of
England.
Of all the young gentlemen whose privilege it had been to make the
acquaintance of Mr Cripps--and there were a good many--he professed the
greatest esteem and admiration for Loman, of Saint Dominic's school, to
whom he had been only recently introduced. The two had met at the
lock-keeper's house a week ago, when Loman was detained there an hour or
two by stress of weather, and, getting into conversation, as gentlemen
naturally would, Loman chanced to mention that he wanted to come across
a really good fishing-rod.
By a most curious coincidence, Mr Cripps had only the other day been
asked by a particular friend of his, who was removing from the country
to London--"where," said Mr Cripps, "there ain't over much use for a
rod,"--if he knew of any one in want of a really good fishing-rod. It
was none of your ordinary ones, made out of green wood with pewter
joints, but a regular first-class article, and would do for trout or
perch or jack, or any mortal fish you could think of. Cripps had seen
it, and flattered himself he knew something about rods, but had never
seen one to beat this. Reel and all, too, and a book of flies into the
bargain, if he liked. He had been strongly tempted to get it for
himself--it seemed a downright sin to let such a beauty go--and would
have it if he had not already got a rod, but of a far inferior sort, of
his own. And he believed his friend would part with it cheap.
"I tell you what, young gentleman," said he, "I'll bring it up with me
next time I come, and you shall have a look at it. Of course, you can
take it or not, as you like, but if my advice is worth anything--well,
never mind, I suppose you are sure to be up stream in the course of the
next week or so."
"Oh, yes," said Loman, who in the presence of this universal genius was
quite deferential; "when can you bring it?"
"Well, my time ain't so very valuable, and I'd like to oblige you over
this little affair. Suppose we say to-day week. I'll have the rod
here, and you can try him."
"Thank you--have you--that is--about what--"
"You mean, about what figure will he want for it? Well, I don't know
exactly. They run so very various, do good rods. You could get what
they call a rod for ten bob, I dare say. But _you_ wouldn't hardly
fancy that style of thing."
"Oh no; if it was a really good one," said Loman, "I wouldn't mind
giving a good price. I don't want a rotten one."
"That's just it. This one I'm telling you of is as sound as a bell, and
as strong as iron. And _you_ know, as well as I do, these things are
always all the better after a little use. My friend has only used this
twice. But I'll find out about the price, and drop you a line, you
know. May be 2 pounds or 3 pounds, or so."
"I suppose that's about what a really good rod ought to cost?" said
Loman, who liked to appear to know what was what, but secretly rather
taken aback by this estimate.
"So it is. It's just a guess of mine though; but I know for _me_ he'll
put it as low as he can."
"I'm sure I shall be very much obliged to you," said Loman, "if you can
manage it for me."
"Not at all, young gentleman. I always like to oblige where I can;
besides, you would do as much for me, I'll wager. Well, good-day, Mr--
what's your name?"
"Loman--at Saint Dominic's. You'll send me a line, then about the
price?"
"Yes, sir. Good-day, sir."
But Mr Cripps had forgotten to send the line, and to-day, when Loman,
according to arrangement, came up to the lock-keeper's to receive the
rod, the keeper of the Cockchafer was most profuse in his apologies. He
was most sorry, but his friend had been ill and not able to attend to
business. He had been a _trifle_ afraid from what he heard that he was
not quite as anxious to part with that rod as formerly. But Cripps had
gone over on purpose and seen him, and got his promise that he should
have it to-morrow certain, and if Mr Loman would call or send up, it
should be ready for him, without fail.
At this stage, Stephen, having explored the weir, rejoined his
schoolfellow, and the two, after partaking of a bottle of ginger-beer at
Mr Cripps's urgent request, returned with the stream to Saint
Dominic's.
The result of this delay was to make Loman doubly anxious to secure this
famous fishing-rod, on which his heart was set. Next day, however, he
had classes all the afternoon, and could not go himself. He therefore
determined to send Stephen.
"I want you to run up to Gusset Weir," said he to his fag, "to fetch me
a rod the keeper's son is getting for me. Be quick back, will you? and
ask him what the price is."
So off Stephen trotted, as soon as school was over, in spite of the
counter attraction of a Guinea-pig cricket match. When he reached the
lock, Cripps had not arrived.
"He warn't be long, young maister," said old Jeff, who was one of the
snivelling order. "Take a seat, do 'ee. Nice to be a young gemm'un, I
says--us poor coves as works wery 'ard, we'd like to be young gemm'un
too, with lots o' money, and all so comfortable off. Why, young
maister, you don't know now what it is to be in want of a shillun. I
do!"
Stephen promptly pulled out one of his five shillings of pocket-money in
answer to this appeal, and felt rather ashamed to appear "comfortable
off" in the presence of this patriarch.
"Not that I complains o' my lot, young gemm'un," continued old Cripps,
pulling his forelock with one hand and pocketing the shilling with the
other. "No, I says, the honest working man don't do no good
a-grumblin', but when he's got his famerly to feed," [old Cripps was a
widower, and his family consisted of the landlord of the Cockchafer],
"and on'y this here shillin' to do it with--"
Stephen was _very_ green. He almost cried at the sight of this
destitute, tottering, honest old man, and before the latter could get
farther in his lament another shilling was in his palsied old hand, and
the grey old forelock was enduring another tug.
It was well for Stephen that Mr Cripps junior turned up at this
juncture, or the entire five shillings might have made its way into the
old man's pouch.
Mr Cripps junior had the rod. He had had a rare job, he said, to get
it, for his friend had only yesterday had an offer of 3 pounds 15
shillings, and was all but taking it. However, here it was, and for
only 3 pounds 10 shillings tell Mr Loman; such a bargain as he wouldn't
often make in his life, and he could get him the fly-book for a
sovereign if he liked. And Mr Cripps would charge him nothing for his
trouble.
After this Mr Cripps junior and the boy got quite friendly. The former
was greatly interested in hearing about Saint Dominic's, especially when
he understood Stephen was a new boy. Cripps could remember the day when
_he_ was a new boy, and had to fight three boys in three hours the first
afternoon. He was awfully fond of cricket when he was a boy. Was
Stephen?
"Oh, yes," said Stephen; "I like it more than anything."
"Ah, you should have seen the way we played. Bless me! I'd a bat, my
boy, that could tip the balls clean over the school-house. You've got a
bat, of course, or else--"
"No, I haven't," said Stephen. "I shall get one as soon as I can."
"Well, that _is_ lucky! Look here, young gentleman," continued Cripps
confidentially; "I've taken a fancy to you. It's best to be plain and
speak out. I've taken a fancy to you, and you shall have that bat.
It's just your size, and the finest bit of willow you ever set eyes on.
I'll wager you'll make top score every time you use it. You shall have
it. Never mind about the stumpy--"
"Stumpy!" ejaculated Stephen; "I don't want stumps, only a bat."
"What I meant to say was, never mind about the price. You can give me
what you like for it. I wish I could make you a present of it. My eye,
it's a prime bat! Spliced! Yes. Treble-cane, as I'm a poor man. I'll
send it up to you, see if I don't, and you can pay when you like."
And so he chattered on, in a way which quite charmed Stephen, and made
him rejoice in his new friend, and still more at the prospect of the
bat.
"If it's awfully dear," he said, at parting, with a sort of sigh, "I
couldn't afford it. My pocket-money's nearly all gone."
He did not say how.
"Oh, never mind, not if you don't pay at all," replied the genial
Cripps. "You'll be having more tin soon, I bet."
"Not till June," said Stephen.
"Well, leave it till June--no matter. But you may as well have the use
of the bat now. Good-day, Master Green--"
"Greenfield, Stephen Greenfield," said Stephen.
"Good-day, and give my respects to Mr Loman, and I hope I shall see you
both again."
Stephen hoped so too, and went off, highly elated, with Loman's rod
under his arm.
Loman pulled rather a long face at hearing the price, and pulled a still
longer face when Stephen told him about the bat. He read his fag a long
lecture about getting into debt and pledging his pocket-money in
advance.
That evening Stephen was solemnly tossed up for by the Guinea-pigs and
Tadpoles. "Heads, Guinea-pigs; tails, Tadpoles." It turned up heads,
and from that time forward Greenfield junior was a Guinea-pig.