Fairbairn was startled next morning while engaged over his toilet by a
sudden visit from the captain.
What could be wrong to bring him there at this hour, with a face full of
anxiety and a voice full of concern, as he inquired, "Will you do me a
favour, old man?"
Fairbairn knew his friend had been in trouble for some time past, and
was sore beset on many hands. He had not attempted to intrude into his
secrets or to volunteer any aid. For he knew Riddell would ask him if
he wanted it. In proof of which here he was.
"Of course, I will," replied he, "if I can."
"Do you happen to have a pot of jam you could lend me?"
Fairbairn fairly staggered at this unexpected request. He had imagined
he was to be asked at the very least to accompany his friend on some
matter of moment to the doctor's study, or to share some tremendous
secret affecting the honour of Willoughby. And to be asked now for the
loan of a pot of jam was too great a shock for his gravity, and he burst
out laughing.
"A pot of jam!" he exclaimed. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Oh, any sort you've got," said the captain, eagerly; "and I suppose you
haven't got a pie of any sort, or some muffins?"
Fairbairn gaped at his visitor with something like apprehension as he
came out with this extraordinary request. The captain's voice was
grave, and _no_ suspicion of a jest lurked in his face. Could he
possibly have succumbed to the mental strain of the past term, and taken
leave of his wits?
"What _are_ you talking about, Riddell?" asked Fairbairn, in tones
almost of pity. "Has anything happened to you?"
Riddell looked at the speaker inquisitively for a moment, then broke out
into a laugh.
"What an ass I am! I forgot to tell you what I wanted them for. The
fact is, I asked two kids to breakfast this morning, and I just
remembered I had nothing but tea and toast to offer them; and it's too
early to get anything in. I'd be awfully obliged if you could help me
out with it."
Fairbairn's merriment broke out afresh as the truth revealed itself, and
it was some time before he could attend to business. He then offered
Riddell anything he could find in his cupboard, and the captain
thereupon gratefully availed himself of the offer to secure a pot of
red-currant jam, a small pot of potted meat, two or three apples, and a
considerable section of a plum cake. All these he promised to replace
without delay, and triumphantly hurried back with them in his pocket and
under his jacket, in time to deposit them on his table before the bell
began to ring for chapel. He also sent Cusack round to the school
larder to order three new laid eggs and some extra butter to be
delivered at once.
These grand preparations being duly made, he breathed again, and went
hopefully to chapel.
As it happened, he had been very near reckoning without his host, or I
should say his guests. For Parson and Telson had been some time before
they could make up their minds to accept the hurried invitation of the
previous evening.
"It's a row," Telson had said, as the captain disappeared.
"Of course it is. I'm not going," said Parson.
"Wonder what about?"
"Oh, that Skyrocket affair, I suppose."
"Do you think he'll give us impots if we don't go?"
"Don't know--most likely."
"Rum, his asking us to breakfast, though," said Telson.
"All a dodge, I expect," said Parson. "By the way, what sort of
breakfasts does he go in for?"
"Not bad when he likes," said Telson, with the authority of an old fag.
"Bacon?" asked Parson.
"Sometimes," said Telson.
"Jam?" inquired Parson.
"Generally," replied Telson.
There was a pause. Then Parson said, "Fancy we'd better turn up. It's
only civil, when he asked us."
"All serene," said Telson; "if it is a row, of course it will come off
in any case. And we may as well get our breakfast somewhere."
With which philosophical resolve the matter had been settled, and the
amiable pair parted to meet next morning after chapel.
Riddell spared himself the embarrassment of waiting to escort his guests
to the festive board, and hurried off in advance to see that the
preparations were duly made in their honour.
He caught Cusack wistfully eyeing the unwonted array of good things on
the table, and evidently speculating as to who the favoured guests were
to be. It was with some difficulty that the captain got him sent off to
his own breakfast in the big hall, half bribed thereto by the promise of
a reversion of the coming feast.
Then, feeling quite exhausted by his morning's excitement, he sat down
and awaited his visitors.
They arrived in due time; still, to judge of their leisurely approach
and their languid knock, a little suspicious of the whole affair. But
the moment the door opened, and their eyes fell on the table, their
manner changed to one of the most amiable briskness.
"Good-morning," said Riddell, who, in the presence of the greater
attractions on the table, ran considerable risk of being overlooked
altogether.
"Good-morning," cried the boys, suddenly roused by his voice to a sense
of their social duty.
"Awfully brickish of you to ask us round," said Telson.
"Rather," chimed in Parson.
"I'm glad you came," said the captain. "We may as well have breakfast.
Telson, have you forgotten how to boil eggs?"
Telson said emphatically he had not, and proceeded forthwith to give
practical proof of his cunning, while Parson volunteered his aid in
cutting up the bread, and buttering the toast.
In due time the preliminaries were all got through, and the trio sat
down to partake of the reward of their toil.
Riddell could not thank his stars sufficiently that he had thought of
embellishing his feast with the few luxuries from Fairbairn's cupboard.
Nothing could exceed the good-humour of the two juniors as one delicacy
after another unfolded its charms and invited their attention. They
accompanied their exertions with a running fire of chat and chaff, which
left Riddell very little to do except gently to steer the conversation
round towards the point for which this merry meeting was designed.
"Frightful job to get old Parson to turn up," said Telson, taking his
fourth go-in of potted meat; "he thought you were going to row him about
that shindy in the Parliament!"
"No, I didn't," rejoined Parson, pushing up his cup for more tea. "It
was you said that about blowing up us Skyrockets."
"What a howling cram," said Telson. "I never make bad jokes. You know,
Riddell, it was Parson stuck us up to that business. He's always at the
bottom of the rows."
Parson laughed at this compliment.
"You mean I always _get_ into the rows," said he.
"Anyhow, I don't suppose the Skyrockets will show up again this term,"
said Telson.
"They certainly did not get much encouragement last time," said Riddell,
laughing. "You know I don't think you fellows do yourselves justice in
things like that. Fellows get to think the only thing you're good at is
a row."
"Fact is," said Parson, "Telson thought we'd been so frightfully snubbed
this term, we kids, that he said we ought to stick up for ourselves."
"I said that?" cried Telson. "Why, you know it was you said it!"
"By the way," said Parson, "wasn't there to be a special meeting of the
House to-day, for something or other?"
Telson looked rather uncomfortable, and then said, "Yes, I heard so. I
fancy it's about you, somehow," added he, addressing Riddell.
"About me?" asked the captain.
"Yes--to kick you out, or something," said Telson; "but Parson and I
mean to go and vote against it."
This was news to Riddell, and rather astonishing news too.
"To kick me out?" he asked. "What for?"
"Oh, you know," said Parson. "It's some bosh about that boat-race
affair. Some of the chaps think you are mixed up in it, but of course
it's all a cram. I've told them so more than once."
"It's all those Parrett's cads," said Telson, taking up the matter from
a schoolhouse point of view. "They're riled about the race, and about
the cricket-match, and everything else, and try to make out every one's
cheating."
"Well, some one must have been cheating," said Parson, a trifle warmly,
"when he cut my rudder-lines; and he's not likely to be one of _our_
fellows--much more likely to be a schoolhouse cad!"
"I'll fight you, you know, Parson!" put in Telson.
Riddell saw it was time to interfere. The conversation was drifting
into an unprofitable channel, from which it would scarcely work its way
out unassisted.
What he wanted was to find out whether there was any truth in the
explanation which the diary afforded of young Wyndham's conduct, and he
was a long way from that yet.
"Have some more cake, Telson," said he, by way of changing the subject.
Telson cheerfully accepted the invitation, while Parson, to spare his
host the trouble of pressing him to take an apple, helped himself.
Then when they were well started once more the captain said, "Who's
going to win the juniors' match, Parson? Our fellows quite think they
are."
"Yes," said Parson, contemptuously; "I heard they had cheek enough to
say so. But they'll be disappointed for once."
"Well," said Riddell, "they've been practising pretty steadily of late.
They're not to be despised. Whatever has become of the juniors' eleven
in the schoolhouse, Telson?"
"Can't make out," replied Telson; "they're an awful set of louts this
year; only one or two good men in the lot. I don't think they can
scrape up an eleven."
"Ah!" said the captain, seeing his chance; "you've lost a good many good
fellows. Wyndham, for one, has got up into the second-eleven, I hear."
"Yes," said Parson; "and jolly cocky he is about it, too!"
"He's not been down at the practices lately, though," said Telson,
colouring slightly, and for no apparent reason.
"Why? Is he seedy?" said the captain.
"Eh! No; I don't think so. Wyndham's not seedy, is he, should you
think, Parson?"
"No," said Parson, exchanging uncomfortable glances with his ally; "not
exactly seedy."
"It'll be a pity if he doesn't get playing in the Templeton match," said
Riddell.
Would the fish bite? If the diary had spoken true, these two boys were
at present very full of Wyndham's affair, and a trifle indignant with
the captain himself for his supposed intention of reporting that youth's
transgression at headquarters. If that were so, Riddell considered it
possible that, after their honest fashion, they might take upon
themselves to give him a piece of their mind, which was exactly what he
wanted.
"The fact is," said Telson, "Parson and I both think he's down in the
mouth."
"Indeed?" asked the captain, busily buttering a fresh slice of toast.
"Yes. Haven't you seen it?" asked Parson.
"He's in a funk about something or other," said Telson.
It was getting near now!
"What about, do you know?" asked the captain.
"Why, you know," said Telson. "About being expelled, you know."
"Expelled! What for?" asked Riddell; and the boy's reply gave him a
satisfaction quite out of proportion to its merits.
"About Beamish's, you know," said Telson, confidentially; "he thinks
you're going to report him."
"And he's bound to get expelled if you do," said Parson.
"And how do you know about it?" asked the captain, quietly.
"Oh! you know, Parson and I spotted them--that is, Gilks and Silk and
him--that night of Brown's party. But we never told anybody, and don't
mean to, so I don't know how it came out."
"Anyhow," said Parson, "if he's to be expelled, Silk and Gilks ought to
catch it too. I bet anything they took him there. Thanks! a little
piece."
This last sentence was in reply to an invitation to take some more cake.
Under cover of this diversion, Riddell, with thankful heart, continued
to steer the talk out again into the main channel of school affairs, of
which the affair of Wyndham junior was but one of many.
Before the meal was over it had got as far Eutropius, and he fairly won
his guests' hearts by announcing that he did not consider that
historian's Latin nearly as good as Caesar's, an opinion which they
endorsed with considerable heat.
All good things come to an end at last, and so did this breakfast, the
end of which found the boys in as great good-humour as at the beginning.
They thanked the captain most profusely for his hospitality, which they
never doubted was meant as a recognition of their own sterling merits,
and of the few attempts they had lately made to behave themselves; and,
after inviting him to come to a concert they were about to give on the
evening of the juniors' match, took their departure.
"By the way," said Riddell, as they were going, "do either of you know
to whom this book belongs? I found it in the playground yesterday."
A merry laugh greeted the appearance of Bosher's diary, which the pair
recognised as a very old friend.
"It's old Bosher's diary," said Telson. "He's always dropping it about.
I believe he does it on purpose. I say, isn't it frightful bosh?"
"It isn't very clear in parts," said the captain.
"Did he call you `evil,' or `gross,' or `ugly in the face,' in the part
you looked at?" asked Telson; "because, if so, we may as well lick him
for you."
"No, don't do that," said Riddell; "you had better give it him back,
though, and advise him from me not to drop it about more than he can
help. Good-bye."
With a great weight off his mind, Riddell went down to first school that
day a thankful though a humbled man.
What a narrow escape he had had of doing the boy he cared for most in
Willoughby a grievous injustice. Indeed, by suspecting him privately he
had done him injustice enough as it was, for which he could not too soon
atone.
In the midst of his relief about the boat-race he could scarcely bring
himself to regard seriously the boy's real offence, bad as that had
been; and, indeed, it was not until Wyndham himself referred to it that
afternoon that its gravity occurred to him.
Just as the special meeting of the Parliament (convened by private
invitation of Game and Ashley to a select few of their own way of
thinking) was assembling, Wyndham, in compliance with a message from the
captain, strolled out into the Big towards the _very_ bench where
yesterday he had had his memorable talk with Silk.
Riddell was waiting there for him, and as the boy approached, his
wretched, haggard looks smote the captain's heart with remorse.
He had scarcely the spirit to return Riddell's salute as he seated
himself beside him on the bench and waited for what was to come.
"Old fellow," said Riddell, "don't look so wretched. Things mayn't be
so bad as you think."
"How could they be anything else?" said Wyndham, dolefully.
"If you'll listen to me, and not look so frightfully down," said the
captain, "I'll tell you."
Wyndham made a feeble attempt to rouse himself, and turned to hear what
the captain had to say.
"You wonder," said Riddell, "how I came to know about that visit to
Beamish's. Would it astonish you to hear that till this time yesterday
I never knew about it at all?"
"What!" exclaimed Wyndham, incredulously; "you were talking to me about
it two or three days before."
"So you thought. You thought when I said it was my duty to report it,
and that the honour of the school was involved in it, and all that, that
I was talking about that scrape at Beamish's."
"Of course you were," said Wyndham. "What else could you have been
talking about? I confessed it to you myself."
"And you couldn't see what the honour of the school had to do with your
going to Beamish's, could you?" asked Riddell.
"Well, no. Perhaps it has, but I didn't see it at the time."
"Of course not," said the captain, "and if I had been thinking of
Beamish's I should never have said such a stupid thing."
"Why, what _do_ you mean?" said Wyndham, puzzled.
"Why, this. In all our talks you never once mentioned Beamish's. You
concluded what I suspected you of was this, and I concluded that the
scrape you were confessing was the one I suspected you of."
"What do you suspect me of, then?" inquired Wyndham, "if it wasn't
that?"
"I'm ashamed to say," said the captain, "I suspected you of having cut
the lines of Parrett's rudder at the boat-race."
Wyndham, in the shock of this announcement, broke out into an almost
hysterical laugh.
"Suspected me of cutting the rudder-lines!" he gasped.
"Yes," said Riddell, sorrowfully. "I'm ashamed to say it."
"Why, however could you?" exclaimed the boy, in strange bewilderment.
Riddell quietly told him the whole story. Of the mysterious letter, of
his visit to Tom the boat-boy, of the knife, of the recollection of
Wyndham's movements on the night in question, and then of his supposed
admission of his guilt.
Wyndham listened to it all with breathless attention and wonder, and
when it was all done sighed as he replied, "Why, Riddell, it's like a
story, isn't it?"
"It is," said the captain, "and rather a pitiful story as far as I am
concerned."
"Not a bit," replied the boy, as sympathetically as if Riddell was the
person to be pitied and he was the person who had wronged him. "It was
all a misunderstanding. How on earth could you have helped suspecting
me? Any one would have done the same.
"But," added he, after a pause, "what ought I to do about Beamish's? Of
course that was no end of a scrape, and the mischief is, I promised
those two cads never to say a word about it. By the way, you saw me
with Silk on this bench yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes," said Riddell; "you didn't seem to be enjoying yourself."
"I should think I wasn't. I'd been trying to get him to let me off that
promise, and he had offered to do it for seven pounds, under condition.
I might have closed with him if you hadn't come past just then. He held
me down to rile you, and I got so wild I rounded on him and made him in
a frightful rage, and it's very likely now he may tell Paddy if you
don't."
"Not he," said Riddell. "You're well out of his clutches, old man, and
it strikes me the best way you can atone for that affair is by keeping
out of it for the future, and having no more to do with fellows like
that."
"What on earth should I have done," said the boy, "without you to look
after me? I'd have gone to the dogs, to a dead certainty."
"It seems I can look after you rather too much sometimes," said the
captain. "Ah, there's Silk coming this way. We needn't stop, here to
give him a return match. Come on."
And the two friends rose and strolled off happily arm-in-arm.