Parson, Bosher, King, and the other Parrett's juniors were in bad
spirits. It was not so much the Rockshire match that was preying on the
brotherhood, grievous as that blow had been. Nor were they at the
present suffering under any particular infliction, or smarting under any
special sense of injustice. Their healths and digestions were all
tolerably good, and the mutual friendship in which they had been wont to
rejoice showed no signs of immediate dissolution.
The fact was, they didn't know exactly what was the matter with
themselves. They could not pretend that it was remorse for the little
amount of work they had done during the term, for they stoutly denied
that they had done little. On the contrary, they insisted that they
were being crammed to a shameful extent.
Nor was their conscience reproaching them for their past transgressions.
Of course, they could not help admitting that they had occasionally got
into rows lately, but, as every one knew, it was never _their_ fault.
It had always been owing to some accident or piece of bad luck, and it
was quite enough to get punished for it, without being expected to
reproach themselves for it.
No. When they came to think of it they didn't see that they had
anything to reproach themselves with. On the whole, they were more to
be pitied than blamed. They invariably meant well, but they never got
any credit for their good intentions, while they were everlastingly
getting into trouble on account of their ill-luck!
The fact of the matter was, these virtuous young gentlemen were
suffering from that most painful of maladies--dulness.
They had nothing to do--that is, they had nothing to do but work and
play cricket. The latter was all very well, but even cricket, when it
means three practices a day presided over by a strict senior, gets to be
a little wearisome.
As for the work--they groaned as they thought of it. It hadn't been so
bad at the beginning of the term, when Bosher's crib to the Caesar and
Wakefield's key to Colenso's arithmetic had lent them their genial aid.
But ever since Mr Parrett, in the vindictiveness of his heart, had
suddenly started Eutropius in the place of Caesar, and Todhunter in the
place of Colenso, life had barely been worth living.
It was this last grievance which was the special topic of discussion at
an informal tea-party held, about a week after the Rockshire match, in
Parson's study.
The company solaced their wounded feelings with unlimited bloater-paste
and red-currant jam, and under the soothing influence of these
condiments, aided by the watery contents of Parson's teapot, their
sorrows found relief in words.
"I bet anything he pitched on Eutropius," said Parson, with his cup to
his lips, "because he knows nobody ever wrote a crib to him."
"I don't suppose any one could make him out enough," said King. "It's
awful rot."
"Yes, and Ashley says it's awfully bad Latin."
Parson laughed satirically.
"Jolly lot they care what sort of Latin it is as long as they can do us
over it."
"I believe," said Bosher, "Gilks has a key to Todhunter."
"He has? Young Telson had better collar it, then," said King, whose
opinions on the laws of property as regarded cribs were lax.
"Bah! What's the use of bothering?" cried Parson, pouring himself out
his eighth cup of tea. "If he pulls me up for not doing the beastly
things I shall tell him they're too hard, straight out."
"Tell him it's jolly gross conduct," cried a voice at the door, followed
immediately by Telson, who, contrary to all rules, had slipped across to
pay a friendly visit.
He was welcomed with the usual rejoicing, and duly installed at the
festive board.
"It's all right if I am caught," said he. "Gilks sent me a message to
Wibberly, and I just dropped in here on the way. I say, who's going to
lick, you or Welch's?"
"Welch's!" exclaimed the company, in general contempt. "It's like their
cheek to challenge us. We mean to give them a lesson."
"Mind you do," said Telson, "or it'll be jolly rough on Parrett's. No
end of a poor show you made at the Rockshire."
"Look here, Telson," said Parson, gravely, "suppose we don't talk about
that. We were just wondering if Gilks had got a key to Todhunter
somewhere."
Telson laughed.
"Wonder if he hadn't! He's got more cribs than school books, I think."
"I say," said King, most persuasively, "could you collar it, do you
think, old man!"
"Eh? No," said Telson; "I draw the line at that sort of thing, you
know."
"Well, then," said King, evidently in a state of desperate mental
agitation, "could you ever find out the answer for Number 13 in Exercise
8, and let me know it in the morning? I'd be awfully obliged."
Telson said he would see, whereat King was most profuse in his
gratitude, and Telson received several other commissions of a similar
nature.
These little matters of business being satisfactorily settled, the
company proceeded to the discussion of more general topics.
"Fearful slow term this," said Parson, with a yawn.
"Yes," said Telson, spreading a piece of bread with about a quarter-of-
an-inch layer of jam; "we're somehow done out of everything this term."
"Yes. We can't go out on the river; we can't go into town; we can't go
and have a lark in Welch's; you can't come over to see us--"
"No; that's a howling shame!" said Telson.
"We can't do anything, in fact," continued Parson (now at cup Number 9).
"Why, we haven't had a spree for weeks."
"You seemed to think my diary was a spree," said Bosher, meekly.
There was a general laugh at this.
"By the way, have you got it here?"
"No fear! I'll take good care you don't see it again, you cads!"
"Eh? By the way, that reminds me we never paid Bosher out for being a
Radical, you fellows," said Parson.
"Oh, no--oh, yes, you did!" cried Bosher. "I apologise, you fellows.
I'll let you see the diary, you know, some day. Really, I'm not a
Radical."
Fortunately for Bosher, the political excitement at Willoughby had quite
worn away, so that no one now felt it his duty to execute the sentence
of the law upon him and, after being made to apologise on his knees to
each of the company in turn, he was solemnly let off.
"You see," said Parson, returning to the point, "we've been up before
Parrett twice this term; that's the mischief. We might have chanced a
spree of some sort, only if we get pulled up again he may expel us."
There was some force in this argument, and it was generally agreed it
would be better for Willoughby that the risk of a calamity like this
should not be incurred.
"Fact is," said Telson, cutting another slice of bread, "Willoughby's
going to the dogs as hard as it can. The seniors in our house are down
on you if you do anything. I even got pulled up the other day for
having a duel with young Payne with elastics. Awful spree it was! We
gave one another six yards, and six shots each. I got on to his face
four times, and once on his ear, and he only hit me twice. One of mine
was right in his eye, and there was a shindy made, and I got sixty lines
from Fairbairn."
"What a frightful shame!" cried the company. "Yes," said King; "and
it's just as bad here. The new monitors pull you up for everything.
You can't even chuck boots about in the passage but they are down on
you. It was bad enough when Game and that lot were monitors, but ever
since they've been turned out and the new chaps stuck in it's worse."
"And they say it's just as bad in Welch's," said Wakefield. "You know,"
said Parson, profoundly, pouring himself out a fresh cup--"you know, if
Riddell and Bloomfield ever took it into their heads to pull together,
we'd have an awful time of it."
The bare possibility of such a calamity was enough to sober even the
wildest spirit present.
"These seniors are a nuisance," said Telson, after a pause; "and the
worst of it is, we can't well pay them out."
"Not in school, or in the Big either," said King. "We might stick
nettles in their beds, you know," suggested Bosher, "or something of
that sort."
"Rather low, that," said Parson, "and not much fun."
"Would leeches be better?" said Bosher, who had lately been giving
himself to scientific investigation.
It was considered leeches might not be bad, but there was rather too
much uncertainty about their mode of action. That was a sort of thing
more in Cusack's and the Welchers' line than the present company's.
"I tell you what," said Telson, struck with an idea, "we might get at
them in Parliament; they're always so jolly fond of talking about fair
play there, and every one being equal. Do you know, I think we might
have a little fling there!"
"Not at all a bad idea," said Parson, admiringly--"jolly fine idea! We
can do what those cads do in the newspapers--obstruct the business!
Rattling idea!"
"Yes; and fancy Messrs. Telson, Parson, Bosher, and Co. being
suspended," said King.
"They couldn't do it, I tell you," said Bosher; "we'd kick up a shine
about freedom of speech, and all that. Anyhow, it would be rather a
spree, whether we were kicked out or not. We'd be a `party' you know!"
The idea took, and an animated consultation took place. Parson, for a
junior, was very well up in the "rules of the House," and at his
suggestion the notice-paper for to-morrow's assembly was got hold of and
filled with "amendments."
"Call them amendments," said he, "and they can't say anything."
"Oh, all serene," said Telson, who had implicit confidence in his
friend.
"For instance, here you are," said Parson. "`Mr Coates to move that
Classics is a nobler study than Mathematics.' Amendment proposed:
`Instead of "nobler" say "viler."' Proposed by Bosher, further
amendment: `Instead of "nobler" say "beastlier."' Proposed by
Telson--(`Hear, hear,' from Telson)--further amendment: `Instead of
"nobler" say "more idiotic."' You see it can easily be worked, and when
we've done with `nobler' we can start on the `is' and amend it to `are,'
do you twig? There'll have to be a division over each. I say it'll be
an awful lark!"
Little dreaming of the delightful treat in store for it, Willoughby
assembled next afternoon, expecting nothing better than a dull debate on
the well-worn question of classics _versus_ mathematics. They were
destined to experience more than one surprise before the meeting was
over.
Riddell, who had spent a dismal day, not knowing what to do or think,
and vainly hoping that Wyndham might by his own free confession solve
the bitter problem, came to the meeting. It was the least wretched
thing he could do. Anything was better than sitting alone and brooding
over his secret.
For the first time he received a cheer as he entered and took his
accustomed place. Willoughby was grateful to him for that catch in the
Rockshire match. How, at any other time, the captain would have
rejoiced over that cheer! But now he hardly heard it.
All the other heroes of the match received a similar ovation in
proportion to the service they had done, and when, just at the last
moment, Fairbairn, Coates, and Crossfield came in together, the "House"
rose at them and cheered tremendously.
The business was preceded by the usual questions, none of which,
however, were very important. After the captain's performance last
week, and perhaps still more after his speech in the House a week or two
ago, honourable men had shown themselves less active in "baiting" him
and asking him offensive questions, and on this occasion he was only
interrogated once, and that was by Cusack, who wanted to know whether
they were not going to get a whole holiday in honour of the Rockshire
match? The captain replied that he had heard nothing about it.
Bosher was put up to ask Bloomfield whether he considered Eutropius fit
reading for young boys? Loud cheers from all the small boys in question
greeted the inquiry, in the midst of which Bloomfield cunningly replied
that the honourable member had better give notice of the question for
next time.
Then rose Telson, with all the dignity of office, and solemnly inquired
of Mr Stutter, the Premier, whether he was aware that a new party had
lately been formed in the House, consisting of Messrs. Telson, Parson,
Bosher, King, and Wakefield, called the "Skyrockets," whose object was
to look after the interests of the juniors all over the school, and who
would be glad to receive fresh members at one shilling a head?
Stutter, who was scarcely heard in the uproar which followed this
sensational announcement, meekly replied that he had not heard a word
about it, an answer which, for some reason or other, provoked almost as
much laughter as the question.
"All very well for them to grin," growled Telson, who had expected a
somewhat different reception to his important question: "wait till we
start on the amendments."
The opportunity soon arrived. Coates being called upon to open the
debate, let off the speech he had prepared, and if he did not convince
the House that classics was a nobler study than mathematics, he at least
showed that he had convinced himself.
The "Skyrockets" had barely the patience to hear him out, and the moment
he had done, Parson started to his feet, and shouted, "Mr Chairman and
gentlemen, I beg to move an amendment--"
Here Bloomfield, whom the sight of the notice-paper had prepared for
what was coming, interposed, "When I am ready for the honourable member
I will call on him. The motion is not yet seconded."
"No, no! That won't wash, will it, you fellows?" cried Parson,
excitedly, planting himself firmly in his place, and evidently seeing
through the deep designs of the enemy. "Bother seconding! I mean to
move my amendment, if I stick here all night! (Terrific Skyrocket
cheers.) We kids have been snubbed long enough, and we're going to make
a stand!" ("Question," "Order.") "All very well for you to sing out
`Order'--"
The Chairman:
"Will the honourable member--"
"No, he won't!" screamed Parson, with the steam well up; "and he's not
going to! I've got a right to be heard--we've all got a right to be
heard, and we're going to be heard, what's more! (Tremendous cheers
from the club.) We're all equal here, aren't we, you chaps?"
("Rather!")
Here Fairbairn rose to order, but Parson was too quick for him.
"No, no!" he cried, "we don't want any of your jaw! We're not going to
be shut up by you! We're a party, I tell you, and we're bound to stick
out!" ("Hear, hear," from Bosher.) "We expected you'd be trying to sit
on us, but we made up our minds we won't be sat on! (Prolonged cheers.)
I've not begun my speech yet--(laughter)--and I don't mean to till you
hold your rows!"
Here there were loud cries of "Order" from various parts of the House,
which, however, only served to inspirit the speaker, who proceeded at
the top of his voice, "It's no use your going on like that. (I say, you
chaps," added he, turning round to his companions, "back me up, I'm
getting husky.) You think we're a lot of fools--"
("We're a lot of fools!" chimed in the chorus, by way of backing up
their orator.)
"But we're not as green as we look!"
("Green as we look!")
"You all seem to think it funny!"
("Think it funny!")
"But you needn't think you'll shut _us_ up!"
("Shut us up!")
Here another attempt was made on the part of the chairman to reduce the
meeting to order. Above the laughter and cheering and hooting he cried
at the top of his voice, "Unless you stop your foolery, Parson, I'll
have you turned out!"
"Will you? Who's going to stop my foolery?" yelled Parson.
("Stop my foolery?") howled the chorus.
"Try it on, that's all! You don't think we funk you!"
("We funk you!")
"Do you suppose we don't know what we're doing?"
("We don't know what we're doing?")
"Look out, you fellows! Hold on!"
This last remark was caused by a rush upon the devoted band, with a view
to carry out the edict of the chairman.
Parson went on with his oration till he was secured, hand and foot, and
carried forcibly to the door, and even then continued to address the
house, struggling and kicking between every syllable. His backers,
equally determined, clung on to the forms and desks, and continued to
shout and scream and caterwaul till they were one by one ejected.
Even then they maintained their noble stand for freedom of speech by
howling through the key-hole and kicking at the door, till finally a
select band of volunteers was dispatched "to clear the approaches to the
House" and drive the Skyrockets to their own distant studies, where they
organised a few brawls on their own account, and ended the afternoon
very hoarse, very tired, but by no means cast down.
"Jolly spree, wasn't it?" said Parson, when it was all over, fanning
himself with a copybook and readjusting his collar.
"Stunning!" said Telson; "never thought they'd stand it so long. No end
of a speech, that of yours!"
"Yes," said Parson, complacently; "most of it impromptu, too! Managed
to spin it out, I fancy!"
"Rather," said King, admiringly. "I began to make mine after you'd got
kicked out, but couldn't get out much of it."
"Well, all I can say is it was a jolly lark. I feel quite hungry after
it," said Telson. "Any of that jam left, old man?"
And so these heroes appropriately celebrated their glorious field-day
with a no less glorious banquet, which amply compensated for all the
little inconveniences they had had to endure in the course of the
afternoon's entertainment.
Meanwhile, rather more serious work was going on in the Great Hall.
The Skyrockets being ejected, the house proceeded in a somewhat humdrum
fashion to discuss the relative merits of classics and mathematics.
Several of the seniors and a few Limpets had prepared speeches, which
they duly delivered. Contrary to the expectation of most present,
Riddell took no part in the discussion. As head classic, a speech from
him had been quite counted on; but not even the calls of the one side or
the taunts of the other could get him on to his feet.
The fact was, he only half heard what was going on. His thoughts were
far away, busied with a far more serious inward debate than that on the
notice-paper.
At length he could remain idle no longer. He must go and find out
Wyndham, or see the doctor, or pay another visit to Tom the boat-boy--
anything rather than this suspense and misery and inaction.
He took advantage of a more than ordinarily dreary speech from Tedbury
to rise and make his retreat quietly from the room.
But before he had reached the door Tedbury's voice abruptly ceased and
Wibberly's was heard saying, "Mr Chairman, I see Mr Riddell is leaving
the meeting. Will you allow me to ask him a question before he goes?"
There was something strange about this interruption, and also in the
manner in which the question was asked, which drew the sudden attention
of the House, and all eyes were turned on the captain.
He stopped and turned in his usual nervous, half-inquiring way,
apparently not quite sure what had been said or who had spoken.
"Mr Wibberly," said Bloomfield, "wishes to ask a question of Mr
Riddell."
"It is merely this," said Wibberly, rapidly, and giving no time for any
objection to be raised on the point of order. "I wish to ask Mr
Riddell whether he has found out yet who cut the rudder-line of
Parrett's boat at the boat-race, or whether he suspects anybody, and, if
so, whom?"
At this unlooked-for question a hubbub immediately arose. Several
schoolhouse fellows protested against the proceedings being interrupted
in this way, and even Bloomfield exclaimed across the table, "For
goodness' sake, Wibberly, don't bring up that wretched subject again."
But those who had watched Riddell had seen him turn suddenly pale at the
question, and for a moment make as though he would rush from the room.
But he stopped himself, and turned like a hunted deer on the questioner.
A dead silence fell on the assembly, as Wibberly coolly said, "I will
repeat the questions. Has Mr Riddell found out who cut the rudder-
lines? or does he suspect any one? and, if so, who is it?"
Every eye turned on Riddell. The brief pause had given him time to
collect himself and fight out the inward battle; and now he answered
steadily, "I do suspect some one. But until I am perfectly sure I shall
not say who it is."
So saying, he quietly left the room.