Probably no two boys in all Willoughby were more excited over the result
of the famous boat-race than Parson and his dear friend Telson. And it
is hardly necessary to state that this agitation arose from totally
conflicting reasons.
Parson's indignation found solace in the most sweeping and vehement
invectives his vocabulary could afford against the unknown author of the
dastardly outrage upon his rudder-line. By an easy effort of
imagination he included the whole schoolhouse, root and branch, in his
anathemas, and by a very trifling additional effort he discovered that
the objects of his censure were guilty, every one of them, not only of
this particular crime, but of every crime in the Newgate Calendar, from
picking pockets to murder. He fully agreed with the decision of his
chiefs to have nothing more to do with such a graceless crew till the
injury was atoned for; and meanwhile he felt himself at perfect
liberty--nay, it was his painful duty--to insult, abuse, and maltreat,
as occasion offered, every one unlucky enough to wear the schoolhouse
ribbon on his cap.
This being the case, it may be imagined his friend Telson (who, by the
way, had barely recovered from the shock of Brown's party) found himself
in a very delicate position. For in the whole of his code of honour two
points were paramount with him. One was loyalty to the schoolhouse, the
other was loyalty to Parson. How these two duties could be carried out
now, at one and the same time, was a source of much anxiety to the
perplexed Augustus.
He too was as indignant about the whole affair as his friend. But his
wrath was aimed first of all against those who dared to insinuate that
any schoolhouse boy could have been guilty of the evil deed, and next
against the Parretts' authorities for refusing Riddell's and Fairbairn's
offer of a new race.
He and his friend had a long and painful discussion of the whole
question an evening or two later in the study of the latter.
"It's all very well," said he, "to say it's a schoolhouse chap has done
it--"
"I tell you a schoolhouse chap _must_ have done it," said Parson. "Who
else would do such a dirty trick?"
"I'll fight you, old man, if you go on like that," observed the
schoolhouse fag.
"Oh, beg pardon," said Parson, apologetically. "I mean who else could
have done it, you know?"
"A Welcher might," suggested Telson.
"What would be the good to him? They hadn't a boat. Besides, they all
go against Riddell, don't they?"
"Well, I mean to say," said Telson, falling back on to the next
grievance, "your fellows ought to row us again. We'd have rowed you
again like a shot if our line had smashed. _We_ don't funk you."
"And do you think we funk you? A pack of--I mean," added Parson,
pulling up in time, "do you think we funk you?"
"Why don't you row us again, then?"
"Because there's no honour in the thing while your fellows go in for
beastly low dodges like that," replied Parson.
"I tell you," said Telson, finding it very difficult to keep in with his
friend, "we did not do it. I say we didn't do it; there!"
"What's the use of your saying that when you know no one but a
schoolhouse fellow _could_ have done it?" demanded his friend.
"I tell you we didn't do it," repeated Telson, "and you've got to prove
we did before you say we did," added he, with triumphant emphasis.
"You've got to prove you didn't," replied Parson, not to be beaten in
this line of argument.
"How can I prove we didn't when--when we didn't do it?" cried Telson,
making up in noise for what he lacked in logic.
"I knew you couldn't prove it!" said Parson, triumphant in his turn. "I
knew it was one of your blackguard--"
"All right, old man, I _shall_ fight you," said Telson.
"I didn't mean, old man, really," said Parson. "What I mean to say
is--"
"I don't care what you say," said Telson. "What I say is, we did _not_
do it!"
"All very well," replied Parson, "but I'm certain you did."
"How are you certain, I'd like to know?"
"Because, I tell you," said Parson, slowly and incisively, "it couldn't
have been done by any one else."
"How do you know it couldn't?" asked Telson warmly.
"There you are! If you didn't do it you'd be able to prove it, but you
can't, you see."
And so this edifying argument went on, or rather round, very much after
the style of a dog trying to catch his tail, and at its close Parson and
Telson stood as far from solving the mystery as ever.
This slight difference of opinion, however, could hardly fail to result
in a little mutual irritation, and for the first time in their
friendship the two boys felt as if they did not love one another exactly
like brethren. It was therefore no small relief when further argument
was abruptly cut short by the entrance of King, looking particularly
cheerful and important.
"Hullo, you two!" exclaimed he. "Guessed I'd find you here. Such a
lark!"
"What is it?" asked the two friends, delighted with any diversion.
"Why," exclaimed the delighted King, "you know Bosher?"
"What about him? What's he done?"
"Guess."
"It's not he that cut the rudder-line, is it?" asked Telson.
"No, of course not. But, just fancy, he keeps a diary!"
"What!" exclaimed the other two, laughing, "old Bosher keep a diary!
How do you know that?"
King looked very mysterious, and then said, laughing, "I say, what would
you give for a squint at it?"
"Have you got it, then?"
"Rather," said King, producing a small notebook from his pocket. "I
found it in the Big just now."
The notion of Bosher keeping a diary had been amusing enough, but the
chance of looking at such a production was irresistible.
The boys did make one languid protest, more, however, to relieve their
consciences than to dissuade one another from the meanness of looking
into another boy's diary.
"Rather low, perhaps," said Telson, "to look at a fellow's notes."
"I don't know," said King. "If a fellow keeps a diary he must expect it
to be looked at if he leaves it about. I know I should."
"Well, yes, so should I too," said Parson. "Besides, you know, of
course we wouldn't tell any one else."
"Rather not," said Telson. "But you know, Parson," he added, seriously,
"it's just possible he might have something about the rudder-line in it,
and it would be a great thing to clear that up, wouldn't it?"
"So it would," said Parson, seating himself at the table.
Telson and King did the same, and Bosher's diary was forthwith opened.
To all appearance Bosher was the most unlikely boy in all Willoughby to
keep a diary. He was not usually credited with overmuch intelligence,
and certainly not with much sentiment, and the few remarks he did
occasionally offer on things in general were never very weighty. He was
a good-tempered, noisy, able-bodied fag, who was at any one's service,
and who in all his exploits did about as much work for as little glory
as any boy in the school.
The present discovery certainly revealed him in a new and startling
light, and it was with a feeling somewhat akin to awe that the three
boys who called themselves his friends set themselves to the task of
inspecting his private--his very private diary.
The small volume dated from the beginning of the term, and the first
entry the trio examined may be taken as a fair specimen of its general
contents.
"`May 20. The twentieth of May. I awake at 5:37, and got up at 5:43.
My motive is to see the boats. It was a beautiful and fine morning.
The early birds were singing gladly wore my flannels for running along
with the boat.'"
Bosher was a little shaky occasionally in his punctuation, which will
explain any apparent incoherence in the above and following sentences.
"`I sang as I dressed except while washing The Minstrel Boy. Started
out at 6:2--met Parson in the Big. Parson thinks too much of himself.'"
"Sharp chap, Bosher," said King.
"I'll pull his nose when I see him," said Parson, who, however, did not
appear very deeply affronted so far.
The reading continued.
"`Parson ran on and left me alone. Now that I am alone let me muse on
my past life and hope it will be better only the schoolhouse boat was
out. I think they or our boat will win. Nice seeing them row Gilks
catches a crab'" (this was previous to Gilks's ejection from the boat).
"`Entered chapel at 1 to 8. King was there eating toffee.'"
"Hullo, King, _you're_ all right. When this diary's published some day,
you'll figure all serene," said Telson, laughing.
"Wait a bit," said King, "your turn's coming."
"`At breakfast sit opposite Telson. He eats vulgar. Thou shouldest not
talk with thy mouth full, Telson, I prithee.'"
The readers fairly broke down at this point. Telson had to admit that
his turn _had_ come, and relieved himself by announcing that he would
_prithee_ his candid chronicler some day in a way which would astonish
him.
"`Meditations at breakfast,' continued the diary. `The world is very
big. I am small in the world. I will ambition twenty lines for gross
conduct with Harrison--throwing bread I repent entirely. Parson wanted
me to do his "Caesar" for him.'"
"Oh, what a whacker!" exclaimed Parson.
"`I declined, owing to not knowing--'"
"I can believe that!" added Parson.
"`Both detained for gross conduct not knowing verbs my home is far away.
Let out at 12:28.'"
"What rot it is!" exclaimed Parson, looking up. "What a howling young
ass he must be to put it all down!"
"I guess he didn't expect we'd see it," said Telson. "But, I say, we
can't read it all. Let's see what he says about the boat-race."
This was agreed to, and the eventful day was turned to.
"`Rose at 7:3,'" began Telson, reading--"oh, we don't want that. Let's
see, `Attended chapel at half a minute to eight. Half a minute more I
had been too late. That had been bad alas had I been bad it had been
bad for me next to Wyndham in chapel. Wyndham hath lost his knife he
requested me had I seen it. I answered nay I had not. He said--' Oh,
what frightful bosh it is, I say!"
"So it is; but it would be a spree to see what he says about the race."
"That'll be pages on, at the rate he goes at," said Telson, whipping
over a few leaves. "Let's see. `Gross conduct with King talking in
class King meanly tells Parrett he is a beastly sneak.'"
"What does he say?" exclaimed King. "I told Parrett he was a beastly
sneak? What crams the fellow tells! Fancy me saying that to Parrett!
All I said was I wasn't talking!"
"Why, I see it," said Parson. "He's left out a semi-colon or something;
the `he's a beastly sneak' means _you_, old man. `King meanly tells
Parrett. He [that is, King] is a beastly sneak.' That makes it all
right."
"Does it?" cried the indignant King--"does it make it all right! I'll
make it all right for him, I can promise him. I never sneaked of him in
my life!"
"Wire in, old man, and get to the race," urged Parson impatiently.
"Here, this looks like it," said Telson, reading. "`Being the boat-race
no afternoon school I am pleased. A vast mass on the towpath I being in
flannels waited twenty-three minutes for the start. Meditating as I
stood, how vast is the world.' (Hullo! he had that before; that seems
to be his usual meditation.) `How vast is the world. I am small in the
world Parson is a conceited ass.'"
Parson turned very red in the face, of course, at this unexpected turn,
which, however, his two companions greatly enjoyed.
"`Parson is a conceited ass--'"
"I say, you needn't go over it twice," expostulated the injured youth.
"`A conceited ass,'" continued Telson, his voice wavering with
suppressed laughter. "`He thinks he is a great man but he's little in
the world and fond of gross conduct. He and Telson are the conceitedest
asses in Willoughby.'"
This double shot fairly broke down the gravity both of reader and
audience, and it was some little time before the diary could proceed.
The account of the race which followed was evidently not original. It
appeared to be copied verbatim from an account of the last University
Boat-race, with a few interpolations intended to adapt it to the present
circumstances. It began thus:
"`Punctually at half-past eight ["eight" scratched out and "three"
substituted] Mr Searle [altered to Mr Parrett] gave the signal to go,
and at the word the _sixteen_ oars dashed simultaneously into the water.
The Oxonians were the first to show a lead, and at the Creek ["Creek"
scratched out and nothing substituted] were a foot to the good. The
Craydle is a pleasing river with banks running up from the sea to slopes
up the Concrete Wall this advantage was fully maintained ["maintained"
altered to "lost"]--'"
"Oh, skip all that," said Parson impatiently; "go on to the part about
Willow Corner."
"`About a mile from home the Oxford stroke ["stroke" altered to
"Bloomfield"] spurted, and the dark blue flag ["dark blue" altered to
"schoolhouse"] once more shot ahead. Gross steering by Parson, who I
allude to above, who steers his boat into the bank and breaks rudder-
line. It is ascertained Fairbairn and others are suspected. After this
a ding-dong race ensued to the finish where eventually the dark [altered
to "light"] blues won by a foot [altered to "mile"] Parrett's having
given in owing to Parson who is alluded to above.'"
"Oh, I say, this is a drop too much," exclaimed the wrathful Parson,
rising. "I'll pay him out for this, see if I don't!"
"Don't be an ass, Parson," said Telson. "Sit down, can't you? You've
no business to look at his diary at all, you know, if it comes to that."
Parson sat down with a wrathful countenance, and Telson proceeded.
"We shall not see a new race as I hear Riddell and Bloomfield declining.
I spoke to Parson who completely repents. He suspects Telson who he
ascertains is the one to do it. It is gross. How many things go wrong.
Wyndham hath not found his knife he requested me had I seen it. I
answered nay, not so. I have composed these verses which I will set
down here as they may recall the past:--
"`My name is Norval [altered to "Bosher"], on the Grampian [altered to
"Willoughby"] hills. My father [altered to "Doctor Patrick"] feeds his
flocks [altered to "boys"]'."
"Well," said Telson, as he closed the thrilling narrative, and tossed it
back to King, "I never thought Bosher was up to much, but I didn't know
he was a downright lunatic."
"Oh, I don't know," said King. "It's not so bad. I tried to keep a
diary once, but I could never find anything to say."
"Well, I guess Bosher's not hard-up in that line," said Telson,
laughing. "But, I say, we ought to give it to him back somehow."
"I'll give it to him back pretty hot!" exclaimed Parson. "I vote we
burn the boshy thing."
"Oh, you can't do that. You'd better smuggle it back into his study
somehow, King, without his knowing."
"All serene," said King, pocketing the book. "Hallo! who's this
coming?"
As he spoke there was a sound of hurrying footsteps in the passage
outside, and immediately afterwards the door opened and revealed none
other than the sentimental author of Bosher's diary himself.
Just at present, and luckily for him, he did not appear to be in a
sentimental mood; his face was a little scared and mysterious-looking as
he hurriedly stepped into the room and shut the door after him.
"Look out, I say!" he exclaimed, "the Welchers are coming!"
This magic announcement dispelled in a moment whatever resentment may
have lurked in the minds of any of the three students on account of the
diary. In the presence of a common danger like this, with the common
enemy, so to speak, at the very door, they were all friends and brothers
at once.
"Where? How do you know?" demanded the three.
"I was looking for a book I had lost," said Bosher, "in the Big near our
door, and I heard Cusack tell Pilbury to wait till he went and saw if
the coast was clear. So they'll be here directly."
"Jolly lucky you heard them," said Parson. "What shall we do, you
fellows?"
There was a slight interval for reflection, and then Telson said, "Fancy
the jug dodge is about the best. They won't be up to it, eh?"
This proposal seemed to meet with general approval, and as time was
precious Parson's tin jug, full of water, was forthwith hoisted adroitly
over the door, and delicately adjusted with nail and twine so that the
opening of the door should be the signal for its tilting over and
disgorging its contents on the head of the luckless intruder. It was
such an old method of warfare that the conspirators really felt half
ashamed to fall back upon it, only time was short and the enemy might
come any moment. As an additional precaution, also, a piece of the
twine was stretched across the doorway about three inches from the
ground, with the considerate purpose of tripping up the expected
visitors. And to complete the preparations, each of the besieged armed
himself with an appropriate weapon wherewith to greet the intruders, and
thus accoutred sat down and waited the event with serene minds.
The event was not long in coming. Before many minutes a stealthy
footstep was heard outside, which it was easy to guess belonged to the
spy of the attacking party. Parson motioned to the others to be silent,
and seated himself at his table, with a book before him, in full view of
the key-hole. The little manoeuvre evidently told, for the footsteps
were heard stealthily hurrying away, and the watchers knew the main body
would soon be here.
It seemed no time before the approaching sounds gladdened their
expectant ears. The invaders were evidently walking in step and trying
to imitate the heavy walk of some senior, so as to give no suspicion of
their purpose.
The besieged smiled knowingly at one another, glanced up at the
suspended jug, and then softly rising with their weapons at the ready,
calmly awaited the assault.
Whoever knew a set of Parrett's juniors caught napping? The Welchers
would have to be a precious deal more cunning than this if they expected
to score off them.
The footsteps advanced and reached the door. There was a brief pause,
the handle turned, Parson gave the signal, and next moment--Mr Parrett
entered the study!
As he opened the door the jug overhead, true to its mechanism, tilted
forward and launched a deluge of water over the head and shoulders of
the ill-starred master, just as he tripped forward over the string and
fell prone into the apartment, while at the same instant, accompanied by
a loud howl, one sponge, two slippers, and a knotted towel flew into his
face and completed his demolition.
What Mr Parrett's reflections may have been during the few seconds
which immediately followed no one ever found out. But, whatever they
were, it is safe to say they were as nothing compared with the horror
and terror of the youthful malefactors as they looked on and saw what
they had done.
With a cry almost piteous in its agony, they rushed towards him and
lifted him, dripping and bruised as he was, to his feet, gazing at him
with looks of speechless supplication, and feeling crushed with all the
guilt of actual murderers.
It spoke volumes for Mr Parrett's self-control that, instead of sitting
and gaping foolishly at the scene of the disaster, or instead of
suddenly hitting out right and left, as others would have done, he took
out his handkerchief and proceeded quietly to dry his face while he
collected his scattered thoughts.
At length he said, "Are these elaborate preparations usually kept up
here?"
"Oh no, sir!" cried Parson, in tones of misery. "Indeed, sir, we never
expected you. We expected--"
His speech was cut short by a fresh noise outside--this time the real
enemy, who, little guessing what was going on within, halted a moment
outside before commencing proceedings. Then, with a simultaneous war-
whoop, they half-opened the door, and, without entering themselves,
projected into the centre of the room--a bottle! Pilbury and Cusack had
not studied natural science for nothing!
The strange projectile smashed to atoms as it fell, and at the same
instant there arose a stench the like of which the nose of Willoughby
had never known before.
Mr Parrett and the boys choked and made a dash for the door, but the
enemy were hanging on to the handle in full force, and it was at least
two minutes before the almost suffocated Parson could gasp, "Open the
door! do you hear? Mr Parrett's here; let him out."
"Won't wash, my boy!" cried a mocking voice--"won't wash! Wait a bit,
we've got another bottle for you when you're quite ready!"
"Let me out, boys!" cried Mr Parrett as well as he could for choking
and holding his nose.
"Tell you it won't wash, my boy!" cried the insulting voice outside.
"Try again! Have a little more sulphuretted hydrogen. Jolly stuff,
isn't it? Hold on, you fellows, while I chuck it in!"
The idea of another bottle was more than any one could endure.
Mr Parrett groaned and cleared his throat for another summons, but
Parson was before him.
"I say," cried he, in positively piteous tones, "we give in. I'll
apologise, anything--do you hear?"
"Eh--go down on your knees, then," cried the enemy.
"I am," said Parson.
"Is he? the rest of you? is he on his knees? both of them?"
"Yes, he is," cried Bosher. "Honour bright."
"Well then, say `I'm a beastly cad, and a funk, and a sneak, and I
knuckle under and will never do it any more.'"
"I'm a beastly cad," gasped Parson, choking with shame, anger, and
sulphuretted hydrogen, "and a funk, and a sneak, and I knuckle under and
will never do it any more."
"Now all the rest of you say it!"
Telson, Bosher, and King obeyed, one after the other.
"Is that all of you?"
"Yes," said Parson, terrified at the prospect of Mr Parrett having to
go through the ordeal. "Telson, Bosher, King, and I are the only boys
here."
"All serene," cried the jubilant voice outside, "open the door, you
fellows!"
We draw a veil over the scene which followed!
Mr Parrett hurried out of the room the moment the door was open, merely
turning to say, "Come to me all of you at seven to-night!"
And then with his handkerchief still over his mouth he hurried off.