Loman obeyed, and as he did so there fell on his ears, in familiar
tones, the noisy greeting, "What cheer, Nightingale? What cheer, my
hearty? Stick to your man; eh, let him have it, Mr Loman! Two to one
in half-sovereigns on Mr Loman."
A laugh greeted this encouraging appeal, in the midst of which Loman,
knowing full well every one had heard every word, became completely
disconcerted, and let the ball go through his fingers as if it had been
quicksilver.
This was too much for Stansfield's patience.
"Go up forward, for goodness' sake," he exclaimed, "if you must play the
fool! I'll go half-back myself."
Loman obeyed like a lamb, only too glad to lose himself in the
scrimmages and escape observation.
The match went on--worse and worse for Saint Dominic's. Despite
Stansfield's gallant efforts at half-back (where he had never played
before), despite Wraysford's steady play in goal, the ball worked up
nearer and nearer the Dominican lines.
The Landfield men were quick enough to see the weak point of their
enemies, and make use of the discovery. They played fast and loose,
giving the ball not a moment's peace, and above all avoiding scrimmages.
The Saint Dominic's forwards were thus made practically useless, and
the brunt of the encounter fell on the four or five players behind, and
they were not equal to it.
The calamity comes at last. One of the Landfield men gets hold of the
ball, and runs down hard along the touch-line. Forrester is the
quarter-back that side, and gallant as the Fourth Form boy is, his big
opponent runs over him as a mastiff runs over a terrier.
Stansfield, anticipating this, is ready himself at half-back, and it
will go hard with him indeed if he does not collar his man. Alas! just
as the Landfielder comes to close quarters, and the Saint Dominic's
captain grips him round the waist, the ball flies neatly back into the
hands of another of the enemy, who, amid the shouts of his own men and
the crowd, makes off with it like fury, with a clear field before him,
and only Wraysford between him and the Dominican goal.
"Look-out behind there!"
No need of such a caution to a "back" like Wraysford. He is looking
out, and has been looking out ever since the match began.
But if he had the eyes of an Argus, and the legs of an Atlas, he could
not prevent that goal. For the Landfield man has no notion of coming to
close quarters; he is their crack drop-kick, and would be an ass indeed
if he did not employ his talent with such a chance as this. He only
runs a short way. Then he slackens pace. Wraysford rushes forward in
front, the pursuing host rush on behind, but every one sees how it will
be. The fellow takes a deliberate drop-kick at the goal, and up flies
the ball as true as a rocket, clean over the posts, as certain a goal as
Saint Dominic's ever lost! It was no use crying over spilt milk, and
for the rest of the game Stansfield relaxed no efforts to stay the tide
of defeat. And he succeeded too, for though the ball remained
dangerously near the school goal, and once or twice slipped behind, the
enemy were unable to make any addition to their score before "Time" was
called.
When the match was over, Loman tried his best to slip away unobserved by
his respectable town acquaintances; but they were far too polite to
allow him.
"Well," cried Mr Cripps, coolly joining the boy as he walked with the
other players back to the school--"well, you _do_ do it, you do. Bless
me! I call that proper sport, I do. What do you put on the game, bobs
or sovereigns, eh? Never mind, I and my pals we wanted a dander, so we
thought we'd look you up, eh? You know Tommy Granger here? I heard him
saying as we came along he wondered what you'd stand to drink after it
all."
All Loman could do was to stand still as soon as this talk began, and
trust his schoolfellows would walk on, and so miss all Mr Cripps's
disgusting familiarities.
"I say," whispered he, in an agitated voice, "for goodness' sake go
away, Cripps! I shall get into an awful row if you don't."
"Oh, all serene, my young bantam," replied Cripps, aloud, and still in
the hearing of not a few of the boys. "I'll go if you want it so
particular as all that. _I_ can tear myself away. Only mind you come
and give us a look up soon, young gentleman, for I and my pals ain't
seen you for a good while now, and was afraid something was up. Ta! ta!
Good-day, young gentlemen all. By-bye, my young Nightingales."
Loman's feelings can be more easily imagined than expressed when Cripps,
saying these words, held out his hand familiarly to be shaken. The boy
did shake it, as one would shake hands with a wolf, and then, utterly
ashamed and disgraced, he made his way among his wondering schoolfellows
up to the school.
Was this his luck, after all? A monitor known to be the companion and
familiar friend of the disreputable cad at the Cockchafer! The boy who,
if not liked, had yet passed among most of his schoolfellows as a
steady, well-conducted fellow, now suddenly shown up before the whole
school like this!
Loman went his way to his study, feeling that the mask was pretty nearly
off his face at last, and that Saint Dominic's knew him almost as he
really was. Yet did they know all?
As Loman passed Greenfield's study he stopped and peeped in at the door.
The owner was sitting in his armchair, with his feet upon the
mantelpiece, laughing over a volume of _Pickwick_ till the tears came.
And yet the crime Oliver was suspected of was theft and lying? Was it
not strange--must it not have struck Loman as strange, in all his
misery, that any one under such a cloud as Greenfield could think of
laughing, while _he_, under a cloud surely no greater, felt the most
miserable boy alive!