The eventful Monday came at last, and with my little box corded up, with
Mrs Hudson as an escort, and a pair of brand-new knickerbockers upon my
manly person, I started off from my uncle's house in the coach for
Stonebridge, with all the world before me.
I had taken a rather gloomy farewell of my affectionate relative in his
study. He had cautioned me as to my conduct, and given me to understand
that at Stonebridge House I should be a good deal more strictly looked
after than I had ever been with him. Saying which he had bestowed on me
a threepenny-bit as "pocket-money" for the term, and wished me good-bye.
Under the circumstances I was not greatly overcome by this leave-
taking, and settled down to make myself comfortable for my long drive
with Mrs Hudson to Stonebridge.
Mrs Hudson had been my nurse ever since I could remember, and now the
poor old soul and I were to part for good. For she was to see me safely
inside the doors of Stonebridge House, and then go back, not to my
uncle's (where she would no longer be needed), but to her own home. Of
course she was very much depressed by the prospect, and so indeed was I.
For a good while we neither of us said much. Then, by way of changing
the subject and beguiling the way, she began to address to me long and
solemn exhortations as to my conduct at the new school. She knew as
much about "schools for backward and troublesome boys" as I did; but
that was no matter.
She made me promise, for one thing, that I would make a point of wearing
a clean collar three times a week; and, for another, of calling the
housekeeper's attention to the very first sign of a hole in my socks.
(As my socks, by the way, usually showed the daylight in upon six out of
the ten toes, and one out of the two heels every time I took off my
boots, I was promising a lot when I made this bargain!) Further, I was
to see my Sunday clothes were always _hung_ on pegs, and not _laid_ in
drawers; and my blue necktie, mind, was not to be touched till my black-
and-pink was past work.
From these matters she passed on to my conduct towards my new masters
and companions.
"Mind and always tell them the truth straight out, Freddy," she said,
"and say `sir' whenever you speak to Mr Ladislaw--and say your prayers
regularly night and day, won't you? and be very careful to use your own
comb and brush, and not lend them about to the other young gentlemen."
Mrs Hudson, you see, had an easy way of flying from one topic to
another. Her exhortations were crowded with pieces of good advice,
which may have sounded funny when all strung together, but were each of
them admirable taken separately. I of course promised her everything.
The journey was a long one, but the day was bright, and we had a good
basketful of provender, so it was not tedious. At length the driver
turned round, and said we should come in sight of Stonebridge at the
next turn of the road.
My spirits began to sink for the first time. Dismal and all as
Brownstroke had been, how did I know I should not be happier there,
after all, than at this strange new place, where I knew no one? I
wished the driver wouldn't go so fast. Mrs Hudson saw my emotion, I
think, for she once more opened fire, and, so to speak, gathered up the
last crumbs of her good counsel.
"Oh, and Freddy dear," fumbling nervously in her pocket, and letting
down her veil, "write and tell me what they give you to eat; remember,
pork's bad for you, and leave your cuffs behind when you go out bird's-
nesting and all that. Mind, I'll expect to hear about everything,
especially about whether you get warm baths pretty regularly, and if Mr
Ladislaw is a good Christian man--and look here, dear," she continued
hurriedly, producing a little parcel from the depths of her pocket,
"you're not to open this till I'm away, and be sure to take care of it,
and don't--"
"That there chimbley," interrupted the driver at this stage, "is the
fust 'ouse in Stonebridge."
Five minutes later we were standing in the hall of Stonebridge House.
It didn't look much like a school, I remember thinking. It was a large
straggling building, rather like a farmhouse, with low ceilings and
rickety stairs. The outside was neat, but not very picturesque, and the
front garden seemed to have about as much grass in it as the stairs had
carpets. As we stood waiting for some one to answer our ring, I
listened nervously, I remember, for any sound or trace of my fellow
"backward and troublesome boys," but the school appeared to be confined
to one of the long straggling wings behind, and not to encroach on the
state portion of the house.
After a second vigorous pull at the bell by our coachman, a stern and
scraggy female put in her appearance.
"Is this Frederick Batchelor?" she inquired, in tones which put my
juvenile back up instantly.
"Yes, this is Master Freddy," put in the nervous Mrs Hudson, anxious to
conciliate every one on my behalf. "Freddy, dear, say--"
"Is that his box?" continued the stern dame.
"Yes," said Mrs Hudson, feeling rather chilled; "that's his box."
"Nothing else?"
"No, except his umbrella, and a few--"
"Take the box up to my room," said the lady to a boy who appeared at
this moment. "Where is the key?"
"I've got that, marm," replied Mrs Hudson, warming up a little, "and I
should like to go over his things myself as they are unpacked."
"Wholly unnecessary," replied the female, holding out her hand for the
key. "I see to everything of that kind here."
"But I _mean_ to open the box!" cried Mrs Hudson, breaking out into a
passion quite unusual with her.
I, too, had been getting the steam up privately during the last few
minutes, and the sight of Mrs Hudson's agitation was enough to start
the train.
"Yes," said I, swelling out with indignation, "Mrs Hudson and I are
going to open the box. You sha'n't touch it!"
The female appeared to be not in the least put out by this little
display of feeling. In fact, she seemed used to it, for she stood
quietly with her arms folded, apparently waiting till we both of us
thought fit to subside.
Poor Mrs Hudson was no match for this sort of battle. She lost her
control, and expressed herself of things in general, and the female in
particular, with a fluency which quite astonished me, and I did my
little best to back her up. In the midst of our joint address a
gentleman appeared on the scene, whom I correctly divined to be Mr
Ladislaw himself.
Mr Ladislaw was a short, dapper man, in rather seedy clothes, with long
sandy hair brushed right back over the top of his head, and no hair at
all on his face. He might have been thirty, or he might have been
fifty. His eyes were very small and close together; his brow was stern,
and his mouth a good deal pulled down at the corners. Altogether, I
didn't take to him at first glance, still less when he broke into the
conversation and distinctly took the part of Mrs Hudson's adversary.
"What is all this, Miss Henniker?" he said in a quick, sharp voice,
which made me very uncomfortable.
"This is Mr Jakeman's servant," answered the female. "She was talking
a little rudely about Frederick Batchelor's luggage here."
"And so was I!" I shouted valiantly. "It's not _your_ luggage, and you
sha'n't have it, you old--beast!"
The last word came out half-involuntarily, and I was terribly frightened
as soon as it had escaped my lips.
I do not know how Mr Ladislaw or Miss Henniker took it, for I dare not
look up. I heard Mrs Hudson utter a mild protest, and next moment was
conscious of being taken firmly by the hand by Mr Ladislaw and led to
the door from which he had just emerged.
"Remain here, Batchelor," said he, sternly, "till I come back."
There was something in his voice and manner which took the spirit out of
me, and he might have spared himself the trouble of locking the door
behind him. I found myself in a small study, with shelves on the walls
and a writing-table in the window, which looked out on to a playground,
where, in the distance, I could catch sight of three boys swinging.
This first prospect of my future companions so interested me that I had
actually nearly forgotten all about poor Mrs Hudson, when Mr Ladislaw
entered the study and said--"The person is going now, Batchelor. If you
like you can say good-bye."
I flew out into the hall. Mrs Hudson was there crying, alone. What we
said, and how we hugged one another, and how desperately we tried to be
cheerful, I need not relate. I was utterly miserable. My only friend,
the only friend I had, was going from me, leaving me in this cheerless
place all alone. I would have given worlds to return with her. Mr
Ladislaw stood by as we uttered our last farewells.
"Be a good boy, Freddy, dear; be a good boy," was all she could say.
"So I will, so I will," was all I could reply. Then she turned to where
the coach was waiting. But once more she paused, and drew from her
pocket another parcel, this time a box, of the nature of whose contents
I could readily guess.
"It's only a few sweets, dear. There, be a good boy. Good-bye,
Freddy!"
And in another minute the coach was grating away over the gravel drive,
and I stood utterly disconsolate in Stonebridge House, with my box of
sweets in one hand and Mr Ladislaw at the other.
Some of my readers may have stood in a similar situation. If they have,
I dare say they can remember it as vividly as any incident in their
life. I know I can. I remember instinctively ramming the box into one
of my side trousers pockets, and at the same time wondering whether both
the hats hanging on the pegs were Mr Ladislaw's, or whether one of them
belonged to some one else.
Then suddenly it came over me that the former gentleman stood at my
side, and all my misery returned as he said--
"I will take you to Miss Henniker, Batchelor; follow me."
The sound of the wheels of Mrs Hudson's coach were still audible down
the road, and as I turned my back on them and followed Mr Ladislaw up
the carpetless stairs, it seemed as if I was leaving all hope behind me.
I found Miss Henniker in the middle of a large parlour, with my box
lying open on the ground beside her, and some of my vestments already
spread out on the table. A half inclination to renew the rebellion came
over me, as I thought how poor dear Mrs Hudson had been triumphed over;
and all these tokens of her kindly soul, folded so neatly, inventoried
so precisely, and all so white and well aired, had here fallen into
strange hands, who reverenced them no more than--than the shirts and
collars and cuffs of I do not know how many more "backward or
troublesome" boys like myself. But I restrained my feelings.
"I will leave Batchelor in your charge for the present," said Mr
Ladislaw. At the same time he added something in an undertone to Miss
Henniker which I did not catch, but which I was positive had reference
to the dear departed Mrs Hudson, whereat I fumed inwardly, and vowed
that somehow or other I would pay Miss Henniker out.
When Mr Ladislaw was gone Miss Henniker continued her work in silence,
leaving me standing before her. She examined all my clothes, looked at
the mark on every collar, every sock, and scrutinised the condition of
every shirt-front and "dicky." At last she came to my Sunday suit, at
the sight of which I remembered all of a sudden my nurse's injunction,
and said, as meekly as possible, "Oh, if you please, Mrs Hudson says
those are to be hung up, and not laid flat!"
Miss Henniker stared at me as if I had asked her her age!
"Silence!" she said, when she could sufficiently recover herself;
"and--"
"And," continued I, carried away with my subject, and really not hearing
her remonstrance--"and, if you please, I'm to have three clean collars a
week, and you're to darn--"
"Frederick Batchelor!" exclaimed Miss Henniker, letting drop what she
had in her hand, and stamping her foot with most unwonted animation;
"did you hear me order you to hold your tongue? Don't dare to speak
again, sir, till you're spoken to, or you will be punished."
This tirade greatly surprised me. I had been quite pleased with myself
for remembering all Mrs Hudson's directions, and so intent on relieving
my mind of them, that I had not noticed the growing rage of the middle-
aged Henniker. In after years, when this story was told of me, I got
the credit of being the only human being, who all by himself, had
succeeded in "fetching" the Stonebridge housekeeper. At present,
however, I was taken aback by her evident rage, and considered it
prudent to give heed to her admonition. The unpacking was presently
finished, and the scarlet in the Henniker's face had gradually toned
down to its normal tint, when, turning to me, she silently motioned me
to follow her. I did so, along a long passage, in which there were at
least two turnings. At the end of this was a door leading into a room
containing half a dozen beds. Not a very cheerful room--long and low
and badly lighted, with only two washstands, and a rather fusty flavour
about the bedclothes. Don't suppose, at my age, I was critical on such
points; but when I take my boy to school, I do not think, with what I
know now, I shall put him anywhere where the dormitory is like that of
Stonebridge House.
"That," said Miss Henniker, pointing to one of the beds, "is your bed,
and you wash at this washstand."
"Oh," said I, again forgetting myself; "you are to be sure my brush and
comb--"
"Silence, Batchelor!" once more reiterated Miss Henniker.
From the dormitory I was conducted to the schoolroom, and from the
schoolroom to the dining-room, and from the dining-room to the boot-
room, and my duties were explained in each.
It was in the latter apartment that I first made the acquaintance of one
of my fellow "troublesome or backwards."
A biggish boy was adopting the novel expedient for getting on a tight
boot of turning his back to the wall and kicking out at it like a horse
when I and my conductress entered.
The latter very nearly came in for one of the kicks.
"Flanagan," said she, "that is not allowed. I shall give you a bad mark
for it."
Flanagan went on kicking till the end of the sentence, and then subsided
ruefully, and said, "The bothering thing won't come on or off, please,
ma'am. It won't come on with shoving."
"If your boots are too small," replied the lady, solemnly, begging the
question, "you must write home for new ones."
"But the bothering things--"
"Batchelor," said Miss Henniker, turning to me, "this is the boot-room,
where you will have to put on and take off your boots whenever you go
out or come in. This boy is going out, and will take you into the
playground with him," and away she went, leaving me in the hands of the
volatile Flanagan.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
It was a horribly dark place, this boot-room, and I could scarcely see
who it was who was questioning me. He seemed to be a big boy, a year or
two older than myself, with a face which, as far as I could make it out,
was not altogether unpleasant. He continued stamping with his
refractory boots all the time he was talking to me, letting out
occasionally behind, in spite of Miss Henniker.
"Who are you? What's your name?" he said.
"Fred Batchelor," I replied, deferentially.
"Batchelor, eh? Are you a backward or a troublesome, eh?"
This was a poser. I had never put the question to myself, and was
wholly at a loss how to answer. I told Flanagan so.
"Oh, but you're _bound_ to know!" he exclaimed. "What did they send you
here for, eh?"
Whereupon I was drawn out to narrate, greatly to Flanagan's
satisfaction, the affair of Cad Prog and his baby sister.
"Hurrah!" said he, when I had done. "Hurrah, you're a troublesome!
That makes seven troublesomes, and only two backwards!" and in his
jubilation he gave a specially vigorous kick out behind, and finally
drove the obstinate boot home.
"Yes," said he, "there was no end of discussion about it. I was afraid
you were a backward, that I was! If the other new fellow's only a
troublesome too, we shall have it all to ourselves. Philpot, you know,"
added he confidentially, "is a backward by rights, but he calls himself
one of us because of the Tuesday night jams."
"Is there another new boy too?" I inquired, plucking up heart with this
friendly comrade.
"Oh! he's coming to-morrow. Never mind! Even if he's a `back' it don't
matter, except for the glory of the thing! The `troubs' were always
ahead all Ladislaw's time, and he's no chicken. I say, come in the
playground, can't you?"
I followed rather nervously. A new boy never takes all at once to his
first walk in the playground; but with Flanagan as my protector--who was
"Hail fellow, well met," with every one, even the backwards--I got
through the ordeal pretty easily.
There were eight boys altogether at Stonebridge House, and I was
introduced--or rather exhibited--to most of them that afternoon. Some
received me roughly and others indifferently. The verdict, on the
whole, seemed to be that there was plenty of time to see what sort of a
fellow I was, and for the present the less I was made to think of myself
the better. So they all talked rather loud in my presence, and showed
off, as boys will do; and each expected--or, at any rate, attempted--to
impress me with a sense of his particular importance.
This treatment gave me time to make observations as well as them, and
before the afternoon ended I had a pretty good idea whom I liked and
whom I did not like at Stonebridge House.
Presently we were summoned in to a bread-and-cheese supper, with cold
water, and shortly afterwards ordered off to bed. I said my prayers
before I went to sleep, as I had promised good Mrs Hudson, and, except
for being shouted at to mind I did not snore or talk in my sleep--the
punishment for which crimes was something terrific--I was allowed to go
to sleep in peace, very lonely at heart, and with a good deal of secret
trepidation as I looked forward and wondered what would be my lot at
Stonebridge House.