There was something more than toothache the matter with Gilks that
afternoon.
The fact was his spirits were a good deal worse than his teeth. Things
had been going wrong with him for some time, ever since the day he was
politely turned out of the schoolhouse boat. He had lost caste among
his fellows, and what little influence he ever had among the juniors had
also vanished.
Still, if that had been all, Gilks would scarcely have been moping up at
Willoughby among the virtuous few that afternoon, while the rest of the
school were running mad down in Shellport.
He had a greater trouble than this. Silk, in whose genial friendship he
had basked for so many months, had not treated him well. Indeed, it was
a well-known fact in Willoughby that between these two precious friends
there had been some sort of unpleasantness bordering on a row; and it
was also reported that Gilks had come off worst in the affair.
This was the secret of that unfortunate youth's toothache--he had been
jilted by his familiar friend. Who would not feel sad under the
circumstances?
And yet Gilks's frame of mind was, so to speak, a good deal more black
than blue. As he paced up and down the playground, rather like a wolf
in a cage waiting for dinner, he was far more exercised to devise some
way of making his faithless friend smart for his cruelty than to win
back his affection.
When two good fellows fall out it is bad enough, but when two bad
fellows fall out it may be even worse, for whereas in the former case
one of the two is probably in the right, in the latter both are pretty
certain to be in the wrong.
No one knew exactly what the quarrel had been about, or what, if any,
were its merits, or whether it was a breaking off of all friendship or
merely a passing breeze. Whatever it was, it was enough to give Gilks
the "toothache" on this particular afternoon and keep him at Willoughby.
The hour that elapsed after call-over dragged heavily for every one.
The three heads of houses, after their brief consultation, went their
several ways--at least Bloomfield went his, while Riddell and Fairbairn
solaced themselves in one another's society.
"What is the use of keeping up this farce?" exclaimed Riddell, when they
were back in his study. "_Isn't_ it a farce?"
"Not a bit of it. I don't think much of this affair at all. Of course
there'll be a row, but it seems to me a case of temporary lunacy that we
can't be responsible for."
"But the doctor holds me responsible."
"You may be sure he won't be down on you for this."
"And then, isn't it just a proof to the whole school that I've no more
authority than the smallest junior? Look at that miserable notice there
on the door. Who has cared a rap about it?"
"My dear fellow, you're always flying off to despair whenever you get
the chance. The same thing might have happened to any captain."
"I wish some one else was captain," said Riddell. "The fellows will
mind what I say less than ever now. I'm sure I would gladly give it up
to Bloomfield."
"All bosh. You know you wouldn't. And when you've got your head back
you'll laugh at yourself for thinking it. Besides, wasn't Bloomfield
every bit as much cut up about it as you or me? But," added Fairbairn,
"to change the subject, do you see much of young Wyndham now you've left
us?"
"Not much. What about him?" asked Riddell, eagerly.
"Only I fancy he's not all straight," said Fairbairn. "He's fallen into
bad hands I'm afraid."
"That's an old story," said Riddell; "but what has he done?"
"Nothing particular. I caught him coming home one night late, long
after call-over. I ought to have reported him for it, but I thought I'd
tell you first. It's a pity for him, for he's not a bad fellow."
"I'd give anything to get him away from Silk!" said Riddell. "It seems
a sort of infatuation with him, for he knows well enough Silk means him
no good, and yet he's thick with him. And now I expect he'll cut me
altogether since I refused him a permit to the town this afternoon."
"He's gone down all the same," said Fairbairn.
"Yes, and not alone either," replied Riddell.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Fairbairn just then, as a sudden sound broke the
unwonted stillness of the deserted school, "that sounds like some of the
fellows coming back."
He was right. As the two seniors stood leaning out of the window, the
sounds which at first had been little more than a distant murmur
increased to a roar.
Willoughby was evidently returning in force, and anything but
peacefully.