"'A meeting of the Ph.C.C. was held in dormitory on February 1, at 9
p.m.'"
"Why, that's when the fire was," said Trimble.
"Shut--I mean what's that got to do with it?" retorted the secretary.
"Well?" said my mother, taking a stitch or two at her needlework.
"'Owing to the side put on by the ex-president, who was lately, kicked
out for being a howling cad, and because he was down in form order--'"
"What a cram!" I interposed; "I was on the second desk, and should have
had you down weeks ago if I hadn't been laid up."
"Ha, ha, I like that--you! Did your _mater_ ever hear about _corpore_
being the ablative masculine, eh?"
"No, I never heard about that," said my mother.
"All right--Sarah will tell you--where was I, oh--down in form order,
though he's not quite such a crock as Coxhead, who is champion dunce in
Low Heath--"
"Me?" exclaimed Coxhead, warm with tea and indignation.
"There you are," said Langrish, "anybody but a champion dunce would have
said 'I.' You ask Sarah's _mater_ if they wouldn't."
"Well, _you_, if you like," said Coxhead; "what about it--"
"Look here, how can I read the minutes when--here we are--'crock as
Coxhead, who is champion dunce in Low Heath.'"
"What happened then?" said my mother, looking a little mixed.
"'He was shunted to an outside berth, and was out of it.'"
"I rather think I was in it," said I; "never mind."
"Oh, if you think so, all right. The minutes say you were out of it.
'He'd not begun to snore many minutes with deafening effect, when, as
might be expected, Jarman set fire to the show to stop the noise.'"
"Do you think that's why he did it, really?" asked Warminster.
"Look here, young Warminster. I don't _think_, I--"
"Pity you don't now and then," remarked the newly-elected president.
Langrish looked hard at his colleague, and then glanced at my mother,
whose face was bent over her work. Whereupon the secretary threw the
minute-book at the president's head, and observed,--
"Look out, Warminster; hand up that book, can't you--it's not yours."
My mother looked up, and Warminster meekly surrendered the book.
"'--Stop the noise. The club then adjourned, all except Sarah, who hung
on, contrary to the rules, and is hereby fined 2 shillings 6 pence.'"
"Oh, I say," protested I, "that's rather rough, isn't it?"
"'But,'" proceeded Langrish, "'owing to his mother coming up to buy him
off, he is hereby let off with a fie-- I mean a warning.'"
"Thank you so much," said my mother, gratefully.
"'When we thought he was pretty well warmed up, we sent Tempest in to
fish him out, which he accordingly did, and is hereby elected honorary
porter to the club, and is backed to win the Mile.'"
"That's the least he deserves, surely," said my mother, with feeling.
"'Sarah, owing to this unprincipled conduct, has been suspended for a
month, and the club hereby hopes some day not far off to see him sus--'
no, that's wrong--I mean--"
"Hung," suggested Trimble, in an audible whisper.
"Order--turn him out for saying hung, instead of hanged," said the
president.
"Shut up, can't you?" said the secretary, "can't you let me finish the
sentence? '--See him sus--susceptible of better emotions.'"
"Hear, hear," said the club, breathing again to see the corner turned.
"I hope that's not all," said my mother.
"That's as far as we've got; but we'll let him down easy in the next,"
said Langrish.
"The next will have the account of the Sports, I suppose," said my
mother.
"If our men win," said Warminster. "We're bound to win the High Jump if
Langrish keeps on his form; he did 4 feet 1 and a half inches this
afternoon."
"You needn't talk--you're all right for the 100 Yards," said the modest
Langrish; "there's no one in, except young Brown of the day cads, who
can touch you; and he's sure to go a mucker on the day."
"Don't be too sure of that," said I. "Dicky Brown doesn't go muckers if
he can help it."
"There you are--backing the town cads now. I move, and Mrs Jones
seconds, that Sarah be, and is hereby, kic--I mean sat upon by the
club."
"Oh, don't, please," said my mother, "the bed is not strong enough."
"All right--it's lucky for Sarah. If you were half a chap you'd see we
didn't lose the Quarter-mile. Rackstraw will have a look in at it, but
it'll puzzle him to beat Flitwick. Walsh is going to cut out for him.
So we may just do it; but it'll be a go--eh, paupers?"
Rackstraw and Walsh both protested there would be no difficulty about it
if only the track was in good order, and their wind held out, and
Flitwick muddled his start, and finished a yard or two behind. We were
all prepared to stake the glory of Sharpe's on these trifling
conditions.
Presently the preparation bell began to toll, and the party broke up
with a cordiality and cheerfulness which contrasted strangely with the
solemnity with which it had begun. My mother was politely requested to
become an honorary member of the club, and as politely consented,
expressing a hope that she might meet with its honourable members many
times again.
When they had gone she told me how much she had enjoyed the evening, and
how she liked every one of them, and hoped they wouldn't think her rude
to have laughed now and then, but really, she said, not being used to
it, she could not help it.
Next day she left, and, dismally enough, I made the first use of my
liberty to accompany her in the fly to the station. She talked to me,
as only she could, about the future, and the spirit in which she thought
I would take up once more the work of the term and the thankfulness
which she the widow, and I the orphan, could not help feeling to the
Heavenly Father, who had saved us both from such peril and sorrow in the
past. She urged me to show my gratitude for my escape, by seeking to
follow more closely in the footsteps of that Saviour to whom she had so
often taught me to look for help and guidance, and at the same time she
urged me to pray for the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Her goodness only
made my sorrow at parting the greater; and more than any time since I
had entered Low Heath, the pangs of home-sickness fell upon me as I saw
her into her carriage.
Just before the train started I felt my heart beat suddenly, and the
blood rush to my cheeks, as I saw a figure, with one hand in a sling,
running up the platform, looking into one carriage after another.
"Mother, here's Tempest!"
Next moment he saw us, and ran up.
"I heard you were going by this train," said he, "and I thought I would
like to say good-bye."
"Good-bye, my dear boy, and God bless you once more!"
"The youngster's all right again, I see," said he, putting his hand on
my arm. "I'll see he takes care of himself--good-bye."
And the train steamed off, leaving us two on the platform.
"I hope your hand's not awfully bad," said I, breaking a silence of
nearly three months in the only way which occurred for the moment.
"Rather not. We'd better cab it back--you're not up to walking yet."
"Thanks awfully, Tempest, for saving--"
"Look here, don't let's get on to that," said he.
"I say," said I, "I was afraid you believed what Crofter said, and
thought--"
"You were an ass, Tommy--you always were--I ought to have remembered it.
Of course I never believed a word Crofter said--I saw his game. But I
was idiot enough to get riled at you for giving yourself away to him.
I'm sorry. Now let's forget it. After all, it was the best thing for
me that all that row about my bills came out when it did. You did me a
better turn than you meant to do. Just like you--if you try to do
things the right way, it's all up with everybody. But if you do them
your own way, they manage to come round somehow."
"But Crofter's done you out of the captaincy."
"So much the better--I didn't deserve it. I'll get it back some day
perhaps, and work it better. Come in to me to tea. Redwood's coming,
and old Dicky, too."
"But you're against Redwood for the Mile," said I.
"That's no reason why I shouldn't give him a cup of tea, is it, you
young mule?"
The way he said it, and the grip of his hand on my arm, satisfied me
that all was square once more between me and my dear old Dux.