There is only one thing to be said in favor of detention on a fine
summer's afternoon, and that is that it is very pleasant to come out of.
The sun never seems so bright or the turf so green as during the first
five minutes after one has come out of the detention room. One feels as
if one were entering a new and very delightful world. There is also a
touch of the Rip van Winkle feeling. Everything seems to have gone on
and left one behind. Mike, as he walked to the cricket field, felt very
much behind the times.
Arriving on the field he found the Old Boys batting. He stopped and
watched an over of Adair's. The fifth ball bowled a man. Mike made his
way toward the pavilion.
Before he got there he heard his name called, and turning, found Psmith
seated under a tree with the bright-blazered Dunster.
"Return of the exile," said Psmith. "A joyful occasion tinged with
melancholy. Have a cherry?--take one or two. These little acts of
unremembered kindness are what one needs after a couple of hours in
extra pupil room. Restore your tissues, Comrade Jackson, and when you
have finished those, apply again."
"Is your name Jackson?" inquired Dunster, "because Jellicoe wants to see
you."
"Alas, poor Jellicoe!" said Psmith. "He is now prone on his bed in the
dormitory--there a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Jellicoe, the darling of the
crew, faithful below he did his duty, but Comrade Dunster has broached
him to. I have just been hearing the melancholy details."
"Old Smith and I," said Dunster, "were at prep school together. I'd no
idea I should find him here."
"It was a wonderfully stirring sight when we met," said Psmith; "not
unlike the meeting of Ulysses and the hound Argos, of whom you have
doubtless read in the course of your dabblings in the classics. I was
Ulysses; Dunster gave a lifelike representation of the faithful dawg."
"You still jaw as much as ever, I notice," said the animal delineator,
fondling the beginnings of his moustache.
"More," sighed Psmith, "more. Is anything irritating you?" he added,
eyeing the other's maneuvers with interest.
"You needn't be a funny ass, man," said Dunster, pained; "heaps of
people tell me I ought to have it waxed."
"What it really wants is top-dressing with guano. Hello! another man
out. Adair's bowling better today than he did yesterday."
"I heard about yesterday," said Dunster. "It must have been a rag!
Couldn't we work off some other rag on somebody before I go? I shall be
stopping here till Monday in the village. Well hit, sir--Adair's bowling
is perfectly simple if you go out to it."
"Comrade Dunster went out to it first ball," said Psmith to Mike.
"Oh! chuck it, man; the sun was in my eyes. I hear Adair's got a match
on with the M.C.C. at last."
"Has he?" said Psmith; "I hadn't heard. Archaeology claims so much of my
time that I have little leisure for listening to cricket chitchat."
"What was it Jellicoe wanted?" asked Mike; "was it anything important?"
"He seemed to think so--he kept telling me to tell you to go and see
him."
"I fear Comrade Jellicoe is a bit of a weak-minded blitherer--"
"Did you ever hear of a rag we worked off on Jellicoe once?" asked
Dunster. "The man has absolutely no sense of humor--can't see when he's
being rotted. Well, it was like this--hello! We're all out--I shall have
to be going out to field again, I suppose, dash it! I'll tell you when I
see you again."
"I shall count the minutes," said Psmith.
Mike stretched himself; the sun was very soothing after his two hours in
the detention room; he felt disinclined for exertion.
"I don't suppose it's anything special about Jellicoe, do you?" he said.
"I mean, it'll keep till teatime; it's no catch having to sweat across
to the house now."
"Don't dream of moving," said Psmith. "I have several rather profound
observations on life to make and I can't make them without an audience.
Soliloquy is a knack. Hamlet had got it, but probably only after years
of patient practice. Personally, I need someone to listen when I talk. I
like to feel that I am doing good. You stay where you are--don't
interrupt too much."
Mike tilted his hat over his eyes and abandoned Jellicoe.
It was not until the lock-up bell rang that he remembered him. He went
over to the house and made his way to the dormitory, where he found the
injured one in a parlous state, not so much physical as mental. The
doctor had seen his ankle and reported that it would be on the active
list in a couple of days. It was Jellicoe's mind that needed
attention now.
Mike found him in a condition bordering on collapse. "I say, you might
have come before!" said Jellicoe.
"What's up? I didn't know there was such a hurry about it--what did you
want?"
"It's no good now," said Jellicoe gloomily; "it's too late, I shall get
sacked."
"What on earth are you talking about? What's the row?"
"It's about that money."
"What about it?"
"I had to pay it to a man today, or he said he'd write to the Head--then
of course I should get sacked. I was going to take the money to him this
afternoon, only I got crocked, so I couldn't move. I wanted to get hold
of you to ask you to take it for me--it's too late now!"
Mike's face fell. "Oh, hang it!" he said, "I'm awfully sorry. I'd no
idea it was anything like that--what a fool I was! Dunster did say he
thought it was something important, only like an ass I thought it would
do if I came over at lockup."
"It doesn't matter," said Jellicoe miserably; "it can't be helped."
"Yes, it can," said Mike. "I know what I'll do--it's all right. I'll get
out of the house after lights-out."