"Now go. You've had the satisfaction of seeing me make an ass of myself
in striking that cad--he's not worth it. You may go and tell him I'm
sorry if you like. As for you, I don't want to see any more of you. Go
to your captain, and leave me alone."
And he flung himself miserably into his chair, leaning forward with his
head on his hands, and apparently indifferent whether I stayed or went.
I went, leaving him thus. And the memory of him sitting there haunted
me all that night and for weeks to come.
When, next day, the news went round that Tempest had escaped expulsion,
the general delight was tempered with amazement at the rumour which
accompanied it, that he owed his escape to Crofter. No one but Crofter
himself could have put the latter story into circulation, and to any one
knowing the two seniors as well as I did, it was obvious that what had
completed the humiliation of one had been the crowning triumph of the
other.
Crofter could not have avenged himself for the insults of the term more
effectively; and Tempest's proud nature could not have suffered a
bitterer wound than to know that he had been put under an obligation in
spite of himself, and without the possibility of preventing it, by his
worst enemy.
The ordinary "Sharper" could hardly be expected to trouble himself about
questions of motive. It was sufficient for him that his hero was saved,
and that the credit of the popular act which saved him belonged to
Crofter.
Consequently both were cheered equally when they appeared in public, and
of the two Crofter accepted his popularity with a far better grace than
his mortified adversary.
But it was all very miserable to me as I slunk home that afternoon in
the train. All the hopes of the wonderful term had been disappointed.
I was a recognised dunce and idler at Low Heath. I had lost my best
friend and sold myself to his enemy. My self-respect was at a low ebb.
I knew that in a post or two would come a report which would bring tears
to my mother's eyes, and cause my guardian to grunt and say, "I expected
as much." The worst of it was, I could not get it out of my head yet
that I was rather a fine young fellow if only people knew it, and that
my misfortunes were more to blame for the failure of the term than my
faults.
To my relief a letter came early in the holidays from Dicky Brown's
people, asking me to spend the last two weeks with them, I jumped at it,
for in my present miserable frame of mind even home was dismal.
But when I found myself back at Low Heath, installed in Dicky's quiet
little family circle, I was almost sorry I had come. For Dicky was all
high spirits and jubilation. He had won a form prize; everything had
gone swimmingly for him. The Urbans looked up to him; the head master
had patted him on the back; the Redwoods had taken a fancy to him. No
one thought of calling him by a feminine nickname.
"I think Low Heath's a ripping place," said he, as we strolled past the
gate of the empty quadrangle in one of our holiday rambles. "I'm jolly
glad we got kicked out of Dangerfield, ain't you?"
"Middling," said I; "the fact is, Dicky, you may as well know it, but
I'm rather sick of this place."
"Hullo!" said he, looking at me, "why, I thought you were having such a
high old time."
"I--I've come a bit of a howler, Dicky;" here I gulped ominously, much
to Dicky's concern. "I've fooled things rather, you know." I was in
for my confession now, and gave the penitent horse his head. "I'm jolly
miserable, Dicky, that's all about it, and wish I was dead, don't you
know, and that sort of thing."
"What's up, old chappie?" said Dicky, taking my arm, and evidently in a
fright lest I should compromise myself by breaking down on the spot.
"Come down by the willows; it's rather muddy, but it's quieter."
So we ploughed through the mud under the willows, and I let out on Dicky
all that was in my heart. I'm sure he thought it a lot of bosh, but he
was too kind to say so, and hung on to my arm, and never once
contradicted me when I called myself a fool.
"You have rotted it a bit," remarked he, when the story was complete.
"Never mind, old chap, it can't be helped. You'll worry through all
right."
This was true comfort. If Dicky had been a prig like me, he would have
tried to talk to me like a father, and driven me crazy. It made all the
difference that he understood me, and yet believed in me a little.
"It strikes me," said he, with refreshing candour, "you fancy yourself a
bit too much, Tommy. I'd advise you to lie low a bit, and it will all
come round."
"That's just exactly what Tempest said to me the first day of term,"
said I, with a groan.
"There you are," said he; "bless you, you're not going to get done over
one wretched term, are you? I wouldn't if I were you."
"But all the chaps are down on me."
"What do you care?" said he, with a snort. "Who cares twopence about
the lot of them--chaps like them too? You're a cut better than that
lot, I fancy--ought to be, anyhow."
What balm it all was to my wounds! What miles of mud we ploughed
through that afternoon! and how, as the water gradually leaked into my
boots, my heart rose out of them, and got back somehow to its proper
place, and enabled me to look at things in their proper light. I think
Dicky, little as he knew it, was sent by God to help me pull myself
together, and I shall always think better of him for his blunt, genuine
encouragement that day.
On our way back he pulled up at Redwood's door.
"Let's see if he's in," said he; "he won't mind."
"All right," said I, beginning to quail again a little, and yet
determined to go through with the whole business.
Redwood was in, mending a pair of skates, in anticipation of a day or
two's frost before the holidays were over.
"Look here, Redwood," said Dicky, determined to make things easy for me.
"Old Jones minimus is in the blues. He's been fooling it rather this
term, you know, but he's a bit sick of it, and we thought you'd like to
know, didn't we, young Jones minimus?"
"Yes, if you don't mind, Redwood," said I.
"Wait a bit--tea's just ready. We'll have ours up here," said the
captain.
Over tea Dicky trotted out my troubles second-hand to our host,
appealing to me every now and then to confirm his statement that I'd
rather "mucked" it over this and that, and so on.
Redwood nibbled away at his tea, looking up now and then with a friendly
nod to show he agreed with all that was said about me.