As "circumstances over which I had no control" prevented my joining my
fellow troublesome and backward boys in their daily retreat to the
playground for the next few days, I had only a limited opportunity of
seeing how the new boy settled down to his new surroundings.
Inside Stonebridge House we were all alike, all equally subdued and
"Henpecked." The playground was really the only place where any display
of character could be made; and as for three days I was a prisoner,
Smith remained as much a mystery to me at the end of the week as he had
been on the day of his arrival.
I could, however, guess from his looks and the looks of the others that
he was having rather a bad time of it out there. Hawkesbury used to
come in with such a gracious smile every afternoon that I was certain
something was wrong; and Philpot's flushed face, and Rathbone's scowl,
and Flanagan's unusual gravity, all went to corroborate the suspicion.
But Smith's face and manner were the most tell-tale. The first day he
had seemed a little doubtful, but gradually the lines of his mouth
pulled tighter at the corners, and his eyes flashed oftener, and I could
guess easily enough that he at least had not found his heart's content
at Stonebridge House.
My term of penal servitude expired on Sunday; and in some respects I
came out of it better than I had gone in. For Mr Hashford had the
charge of all detained boys, and he, good-hearted, Henniker-dreading
usher that he was, had spent the three days in drilling me hard in
decimal fractions; and so well too, that I actually came to enjoy the
exercise, and looked upon the "repeating dot" as a positive pastime.
Even Miss Henniker could not rob me of that pleasure.
"Batchelor," whispered Flanagan to me, as we walked two and two to
church behind the Henniker that Sunday, "that new fellow's an awfully
queer cove. I can't make him out."
"Nor can I. But how's he been getting on the last day or two?"
"Getting on! You never knew such scenes as we've had. He's afraid of
nobody. He licked Philpot to fits on Thursday--smashed him, I tell you.
You never saw such a demon as he is when his dander's up. Then he
walked into Rathbone; and if Rathbone hadn't been a foot taller than
him, with arms as long as windmills, he'd have smashed Rathbone."
"Did he try it on you?" I inquired.
"No--why should he?" said the sturdy Flanagan; "time enough for that
when I make a brute of myself to him. But I dare say he'd smash me too.
It's as good as a play, I tell you. That time he did for Philpot he
was as quick with his right, and walked in under his man's guard, and
drove up at him, and took him on the flank just like--"
"A bad mark to Flanagan for talking, and to Batchelor for listening,"
rose the voice of Miss Henniker in the street.
This public award made us both jump, and colour up too, for there were a
lot of ladies and gentlemen and young ladies close at hand, all of whom
must have distinctly heard the Henniker's genial observation. However,
I was most curious to hear more of Smith. Flanagan and I both had colds
the rest of the way and finished our conversation behind our
handkerchiefs.
"Have you heard any more about him?" asked I. "Not a word. He's as
close as an owl. Hawkesbury says Hashford told him he came here
straight from another school. By the way--keep your handkerchief up,
man!--by the way, when I said he's afraid of no one, he _is_ afraid of
Hawkesbury, I fancy. I don't know why--"
"I don't think I like Hawkesbury, either. He's got such an everlasting
grin."
"So will you have if you don't talk lower, you young idiot," said
Flanagan. "Yes, it's the grin that fetches Smith, I fancy. I grinned
at him one day, meaning to be friendly, but he didn't half like it."
I laughed at this, greatly to Flanagan's wrath. Luckily, however, no
evil consequences happened, and we reached church without any more bad
marks.
Of all days, Sunday at Stonebridge House was the most miserable and
desperate. We had not even the occupation of lessons, still less the
escape to the playground. After church, we were marched back to the
school, and there set to read some dry task book till dinner.
And after dinner we were set to copy out a chapter of Jeremiah or some
other equally suitable passage from beginning to end on ruled paper,
getting bad marks as on week days for all faults. After this came tea,
and after tea another dreary march forth to church. But the culminating
horror of the day was yet to come. After evening church--and there
really was a sense of escape and peace in the old church, even though we
could not make out the sermon--after evening church, we were all taken
up to Miss Henniker's parlour, and there doomed to sit perfectly still
for a whole hour, while she read aloud something by one of the very old
masters. Oh, the agony of those Sunday evenings!
I have sat fascinated by that awful voice, with a cramp in my leg that I
dared not stir to relieve, or a tickling in the small of my back from
which there was no escape, or a cobweb on my face I had not the courage
to brush away. I have felt sleep taking possession of me, yet daring
neither to yawn, nor nod my head, nor wink my eyes. I have stared
fixedly at the gas, or the old china ornament on the mantelpiece, till
my eyes became watery with the effort and I have suffered all the
tortures of a cold in the head without the possibility either of
sniffing or clearing my throat!
It made no difference to Miss Henniker that she was reading aloud. She
had her eye on every one of us the whole time, nay, more than ever; and
many a bad mark was sprinkled up with her readings.
"Once more, dearly beloved--Batchelor, a bad mark," became to me quite a
familiar sound before I had been many Sundays at Stonebridge House.
This particular Sunday evening I thought I should go mad, at least,
during the first part of the performance. I _couldn't_ sit still, and
the more I tried the more restless I became. At last, however, some
chance directed my eyes to where the new boy was sitting in a distant
corner of the room, and from that moment, I can't tell why, I became a
model of quiet sitting. I found myself forgetting all about the
cobwebs, and Mrs Hudson, and the china ornament, and the small of my
back, and thinking of nothing but this solemn, queer boy, with his big
eyes, and black hair, and troubled face. The more I looked at him the
more sorry I felt for him, and the more I wished to be his friend. I
would--
"Batchelor, repeat the last words I read," broke in Miss Henniker.
She thought she had me, but no! Far away as my thoughts had been, my
ears had mechanically retained those last melodious strains, and I
answered, promptly, "Latitudinarianism of an unintelligent
emotionalism!"
One to me! And I returned to my brown study triumphant, and pretty
secure against further molestation.
I made up my mind, come what would, I would speak to the new boy and let
him see _I_ was not against him.
Some one will smile, of course, and say, sarcastically, "What a treat
for the new boy!" But if he only knew with what fear and trembling I
made that resolution, he would acquit Fred Batchelor of any very great
self-importance in the matter.
Bedtime came at last, and, thankful to have the day over, we crawled
away to our roosts. The new boy's bed, as I have said, was next mine,
and I conceived the determination, if I could only keep awake, of
speaking to him after every one was asleep.
It was hard work that keeping awake; but I managed it. Gradually, one
after another dropped off, and the padding footsteps overhead and the
voices below died away till nothing was heard but the angry tick of the
clock outside and the regular breathing of the sleepers on every hand.
Then I softly slid out of bed and crawled on my hands and knees to
Smith's bed. It was an anxious moment for me. He might be asleep, and
wake up in a fright to find some one near him; or he might be awake and
resent my intrusion. Still I determined I _would_ go to him, and I was
rewarded.
"Is that Batchelor?" I heard him whisper as I approached his bed.
"Yes," I answered, joyfully, and feeling half the battle over.
"Come in," said he, moving to make room for me.
"Oh no!" I said, in terror at the very idea. "Suppose I fell asleep.
I'll kneel here, and then if any one comes I can crawl back."
"What is it?" Smith said, presently, after a long and awkward pause.