--"THAT CAD SAWYER."
"I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,
The reason why I cannot tell."
OLD RHYME.
And grandmother of course kept her promise. That evening she read it
aloud.
"They were Ryeburn boys--Ryeburn boys to their very heart's core--Jack
and his younger brother Carlo, as somehow he had got to be called in the
nursery, before he could say his own name plainly."
"That's uncle Charlton, who died when he was only about fifteen,"
whispered Sylvia to Ralph and Molly; "you see grandmother's written it
out like a regular story--not saying 'your uncle this' or 'your uncle
that,' every minute. Isn't it nice?"
Grandmother stopped to see what all the whispering was about.
"We beg your pardon, grandmother, we'll be quite quiet now," said the
three apologetically.
"They had been at school at Ryeburn since they were quite little fellows,
and they thought that nowhere in the world was there a place to be
compared with it. Holidays at home were very delightful, no doubt, but
school-days were delightful too. But for the sayings of good-byes to the
dear people left at home--father and mother, big sister and little one,
I think Jack and Carlo started for their return journey to school at the
end of the midsummer holidays _very_ nearly as cheerfully as they had set
off for home eight weeks previously, when these same delightful holidays
had begun. Jack had not very many more half-years to look forward to: he
was to be a soldier, and before long must leave Ryeburn in preparation
for what was before him, for he was fifteen past. Carlo was only thirteen
and small of his age. He _had_ known what it was to be homesick, even at
Ryeburn, more than three years ago, when he had first come there. But
with a big brother--above all a big brother like Jack, great strong
fellow that he was, with the kindest of hearts for anything small or
weak--little Carlo's preliminary troubles were soon over. And now at
thirteen he was very nearly, in his way, as great a man at Ryeburn as
Jack himself. Jack was by no means the cleverest boy at the school, far
from it, but he did his book work fairly well, and above all honestly. He
was honesty itself in everything, scorned crooked ways, or whatever he
considered meanness, with the exaggerated scorn of a very young and
untried character, and, like most boys of his age, was inclined, once he
took up a prejudice, to carry it to all lengths.
"There was but one cloud over their return to school this special autumn
that I am telling you of, and that was the absence of a favourite
master--one of the younger ones--who, an unexpected piece of good luck
having fallen to his share, had left Ryeburn the end of the last half.
"'I wonder what sort of a fellow we shall have instead of Wyngate,' said
Jack to Carlo, as the train slackened for Ryeburn station.
"'We shan't have any one as nice, that's certain,' said Carlo,
lugubriously. 'There couldn't be any one as nice, could there?'
"But their lamentations over Mr. Wyngate were forgotten when they found
themselves in the midst of their companions, most of whom had already
arrived. There were such a lot of things to tell and to ask; the
unfortunate 'new boys' to glance at with somewhat supercilious curiosity,
and the usual legendary caution as to 'chumming' with them, till it
should be proved what manner of persons they were; the adventures of the
holidays to retail to one's special cronies; the anticipated triumphs in
cricket and football and paper-chases of the forthcoming 'half' to
discuss. Jack and Carlo soon found themselves each the centre of his
particular set, too busy and absorbed in the present to give much thought
to the past. Only later that evening, when prayers were over and
supper-time at hand, did the subject of their former teacher and his
successor come up again.
"A pale, thin, rather starved-looking young man came into the schoolroom
desiring them to put away their books, which they were arranging for next
morning. His manner was short but ill-assured, and he spoke with a
slightly peculiar accent. None of the boys seemed in any hurry to obey
him.
"'Cod-faced idiot!' muttered one.
"'French frog!' said another.
"'Is that the new junior?' said Jack, looking up from the pile of books
before him.
"'Yes; did you ever see such a specimen?' replied a tall boy beside him,
who had arrived the day before. 'And what a fellow to come after Wyngate
too.'
"'He can't help his looks,' said Jack quietly; 'perhaps he's better than
they are.'
"'Hallo, here's old Berkeley going to stick up for that nice specimen
Sawyer!' called out the boy, caring little apparently whether Mr. Sawyer,
who had only just left the room, was still within ear-shot or not.
"Jack took it in good part.
"'I'm not 'sticking up' for him, nor 'not sticking up' for him,' he
said. 'All I say is, wait a bit till you see what sort of a fellow he
is himself, whatever his looks are.'
"'And most assuredly they're _not_ in his favour,' replied the tall boy.
"From this Jack could not honestly dissent; Mr. Sawyer's looks were not,
in a sense, in his favour. It was not so much that he was downright
ugly--perhaps that would have mattered less--but he was _poor_ looking.
He had no presence, no self-assertion, and his very anxiety to conciliate
gave his manner a nervous indecision, in which the boys saw nothing but
cause for ridicule. He did not understand his pupils, and still less did
they understand him. But all the same he was a capital teacher, patient
and painstaking to the last degree, clear-headed himself, and with a
great power, when he forgot his nervousness in the interest of his
subject, of making it clear to the apprehensions of those about him. In
class it was impossible for the well-disposed of his pupils not to
respect him, and in time he might have fought his way to more, but
for one unfortunate circumstance--the unreasonable and unreasoning
prejudice against him throughout the whole school.
"Now our boys--Jack and Carlo--Jack, followed by Carlo, perhaps I should
say, for whatever Jack said Carlo thought right, wherever Jack led Carlo
came after--to do them justice, I must say, did not at once give in to
this unreasonable prejudice. Jack stuck to his resolution to judge Sawyer
by what he found him to be on further acquaintance, not to fly into a
dislike at first sight. And for some time nothing occurred to shake
Jack's opinion that not improbably the new master was better than his
looks. But Sawyer was shy and reserved; he liked Jack, and was in his
heart grateful to him for his respectful and friendly behaviour, and for
the good example he thereby set to his companions, only, unfortunately,
the junior master was no hand at expressing his appreciation of such
conduct. Unfortunately too, Jack's lessons were not his strong point, and
Mr. Sawyer, for all his nervousness, was so rigorously, so scrupulously
honest that he found it impossible to pass by without comment some or
much of Jack's unsatisfactory work. And Jack, though so honest himself,
was human, and _boy_-human, and it was not in boy-human nature to remain
perfectly unaffected by the remarks called forth by the new master's
frequent fault-finding.
"'It's just that you're too civil to him by half,' his companions would
say. 'He's a mean sneak, and thinks he can bully you without your
resenting it. _Wyngate_ would never have turned back those verses.'
"Or it would be insinuated how partial Sawyer was to little Castlefield,
'just because he's found out that Castle's father's so rich'--the truth
being that little Castlefield, a delicate and precocious boy, was the
cleverest pupil in the school, his tasks always faultlessly prepared, and
his power of taking in what he was taught wonderfully great, though,
fortunately for himself, his extreme good humour and merry nature made it
impossible for his companions to dislike him or set him down as a prig.
"Jack laughed and pretended--believed indeed--that he did not care.
"'I don't want him to say my verses are good if they're not good,' he
maintained stoutly. But all the same he did feel, and very acutely too,
the mortification to which more than once Mr. Sawyer's uncompromising
censure exposed him, little imagining that the fault-finding was far more
painful to the teacher than to himself, that the short, unsympathising
manner in which it was done was actually the result of the young man's
tender-hearted reluctance to cause pain to another, and that other the
very boy to whom of all in the school he felt himself most attracted.
"And from this want of understanding his master's real feelings towards
him arose the first cloud of prejudice to dim Jack's reasonable judgment.
"Now at Ryeburn, as was in those days the case at all schools of old
standing, there were legends, so established and respected that no one
ever dreamed of calling them into question; there were certain customs
tolerated, not to say approved of, which yet, regarded impartially, from
the outside as it were, were open to objection. Among these, of which
there were several, were one or two specially concerning the younger
boys, which came under the junior master's direction, and of them all,
none was more universally practised than the feat of what was called
'jumping the bar.' The 'bar,'--short in reality for 'barrier,'--was a
railing of five or six feet high, placed so as to prevent any of the
junior boys, who were late in the morning, from getting round by a
short cut to the chapel, where prayers were read, the proper entrance
taking them round the whole building, a matter of at least two minutes'
quick walking. Day after day the bar was 'jumped,' day after day the fact
was ignored; on no boy's conscience, however sensitive, would the
knowledge of his having made his way into chapel by this forbidden route
have left any mark. But alas, when Mr. Sawyer came things struck him in a
different light.
"I cannot go into the question of how far he was wrong and how far right.
He meant well, of that there is no doubt, but as to his judiciousness in
the matter, that is another affair altogether. He had never been at a
great English school before; he was conscientious to the last degree, but
inexperienced. And I, being only an old woman, and never having been at
school at all, do not feel myself able to give an opinion upon this or
many other matters of which I, like poor Mr. Sawyer, have no experience.
I can only, children, 'tell the tale as 'twas told to me,' and not even
that, for the telling to me was by an actor in the little drama, and I
cannot feel, therefore, that in this case the 'tale will gain by the
telling,' but very decidedly the other way.
"To return, however, to the bar-jumping--of all the boys who made a
practice of it, no one did so more regularly than Carlo, 'Berkeley
minor.' He was not a lazy boy in the morning; many and many a time he
would have been quite soon enough in the chapel had he gone round the
proper way; but it became almost a habit with him to take the nominally
forbidden short cut--so much a habit that Mr. Wyngate, who was perfectly
aware of it, said to him jokingly one day, that he would take it as a
personal favour, if, _for once_, Carlo would gratify him by coming to
chapel by the regular entrance. As for being _blamed_ for his
bar-jumping, such an idea never entered Carlo's head; he would almost as
soon have expected to be blamed for eating his breakfast, and, naturally
enough, when Mr. Sawyer's reign began, it never occurred to him to alter
his conduct. For some time things went on as usual, Mr. Sawyer either
never happening to see Carlo's daily piece of gymnastics, or not
understanding that it was prohibited. But something occurred at last,
some joke on the subject, or some little remark from one of the other
masters, which suddenly drew the new 'junior's' attention to the fact.
And two or three mornings afterwards, coming upon Carlo in the very act
of bar-jumping, Mr. Sawyer ventured mildly, but in reality firmly, to
remonstrate.
"'Berkeley,' he said, in his nervous, jerky fashion, 'that is not the
_proper_ way from your schoolroom to chapel, is it?'
"Carlo took this remark as a good joke, after the manner of Mr. Wyngate's
on the same subject.
"'No, sir,' he replied mischievously, 'I don't suppose it is.'
"'Then,' said Mr. Sawyer, stammering a very little, as he sometimes did
when more nervous than usual, 'then will you oblige me for the future by
coming the proper way?'
"He turned away before Carlo had time to reply, if indeed he had an
answer ready, which is doubtful, for he could not make up his mind if Mr.
Sawyer was in earnest or not. But by the next morning all remembrance of
the junior master's remonstrance had faded from Carlo's thoughtless
brain. Again he went bar-jumping to chapel, and this time no Mr. Sawyer
intercepted him. But two mornings later, just as he had successfully
accomplished his jump, he perceived in front of him the thin,
uncertain-looking figure of the junior master.
"'Berkeley,' he said gravely, 'have you forgotten what I said to you two
or three days ago?'
"Carlo stared. The fact of the matter was that he _had_ forgotten, but as
his remembering would have made no difference, considering that he had
never had the slightest intention of taking any notice of Mr. Sawyer's
prohibition, his instinctive honesty forbade his giving his want of
memory as an excuse.
"'No,' he replied, 'at least I don't know if I did or not. But I have
always come this way--lots of us do--and no one ever says anything.'
"'But _I_ say something now,' said Mr. Sawyer, more decidedly than he had
ever been known to speak, 'and that is to forbid your coming this way.
And I expect to be obeyed.'
"Carlo made no reply. This time there was no mistaking Mr. Sawyer's
meaning. It was mortifying to have to give in to the 'mean little sneak,'
as Carlo mentally called the new master; still, as next morning he
happened to be in particularly good time he went round the proper way.
The day after, however, he was late, decidedly late for once, and,
throwing to the winds all consideration for Mr. Sawyer or his orders,
Carlo jumped the bar and made his appearance in time for prayers. He had
not known that he was observed, but coming out of chapel Mr. Sawyer
called him aside.
"'Berkeley,' he said, 'you have disobeyed me again. If this happens once
more I shall be obliged to report you.'
"Carlo stared at him in blank amazement.
"'Report me?' he said. Such a threat had never been held out to either
him or Jack through all their Ryeburn career. They looked upon it as next
worst to being expelled. For reporting in Ryeburn parlance meant a formal
complaint to the head-master, when a boy had been convicted of aggravated
disobedience to the juniors. And its results were very severe; it
entirely prevented a boy's in any way distinguishing himself during the
half-year: however hard a 'reported' boy might work, he could gain no
prize that term. So no wonder that poor Carlo repeated in amazement,
"'_Report_ me?'
"'Yes,' said Sawyer. 'I don't want to do it, but if you continue to
disobey me, I must,' and he turned away.
"Off went Carlo to his cronies with his tale of wrongs. The general
indignation was extreme.
"'I'd like to see him dare to do such a thing,' said one.
"'I'd risk it, Berkeley, if I were you,' said another. 'Anything rather
than give in to such a cowardly sneak.'
"In the midst of the discussion up came Jack, to whom, with plenty of
forcible language, his brother's woes were related. Jack's first impulse
was to discredit the sincerity of Mr. Sawyer's intention.
"He'd never _dare_ do such a thing as report you for nothing worse than
bar-jumping,' he exclaimed.
"But Carlo shook his head.
"'He's mean enough for anything,' he replied. 'I believe he'll do it fast
enough if ever he catches me bar-jumping again.'
"'Well, you'll have to give it up then,' said Jack. 'It's no use hurting
yourself to spite him,' and as Carlo made no reply, the elder brother
went away, satisfied that his, it must be confessed, not very exalted
line of argument, had had the desired effect.
"But Carlo's silence did _not_ mean either consent or assent. When Jack
had left them the younger boys talked the whole affair over again in
their own fashion and according to their own lights--the result being
that the following morning, with the aggravation of a whoop and a cry,
Carlo defiantly jumped the bar on his way to chapel for prayers.
"When Jack came to hear of it, as he speedily did, he was at first very
angry, then genuinely distressed.
"'You will only get what you deserve if he does report you,' he said to
Carlo in his vexation, and when Carlo replied that he didn't see that he
need give up what he had always done 'for a cad like that,' Jack retorted
that if he thought Sawyer a cad he should have acted accordingly, and not
trusted to _his_ good feeling or good nature. But in his heart of hearts
Jack did not believe the threat would be carried out, and, unknown to
Carlo, he did for his brother what he would never have done for himself.
As soon as morning school was over he went to Mr. Sawyer to beg him to
reconsider his intention, explaining to the best of his ability the
extenuating circumstances of the case--the tacit indulgence so long
accorded to the boys, Carlo's innocence, in the first place, of any
intentional disobedience.
"Mr. Sawyer heard him patiently; whether his arguments would have had any
effect, Jack, at that time at least, had not the satisfaction of knowing,
for when he left off speaking Mr. Sawyer replied quietly,
"'I am very sorry to seem severe to your brother, Berkeley, but what I
have done I believed to be my duty. I have _already_ reported him.'
"Jack turned on his heel and left the room without speaking. Only as he
crossed the threshold one word of unutterable contempt fell from between
his teeth. '_Cad_,' he muttered, careless whether Sawyer heard him or
not.
"And from that moment Jack's championship of the obnoxious master was
over; and throughout the school he was never spoken of among the boys,
big and little, but as 'that cad Sawyer.'
"Though, after all, the 'reporting' turned out less terrible than was
expected. How it was managed I cannot exactly say, but Carlo was let
off with a reprimand, and new and rigorous orders were issued against
'bar-jumping' under any excuse whatever.
"I think it probable that the 'authorities' privately pointed out to
Mr. Sawyer that there might be such a thing as over-much zeal in the
discharge of his duties, and if so I have no doubt he took it in
good part. For it was not zeal which actuated him--it was simple
conscientiousness, misdirected perhaps by his inexperience. He could not
endure hurting any one or anything, and probably his very knowledge of
his weakness made him afraid of himself. Be that as it may, no one
concerned rejoiced more heartily than he at Carlo's acquittal.
"But it was too late--the mischief was done. Day by day the exaggerated
prejudice and suspicion with which he was regarded became more apparent.
Yet he did not resent it--he worked on, hoping that in time it might be
overcome, for he yearned to be liked and trusted, and his motives for
wishing to do well at Ryeburn were very strong ones.
"And gradually, as time went on, things improved a little. Now and then
the better-disposed of the boys felt ashamed of the tacit disrespect with
which one so enduring and inoffensive was treated; and among these
better-disposed I need hardly say was our Jack.
"It was the end of October. But a few days were wanting to the
anniversary so dear to schoolboy hearts--that of Gunpowder Plot. This
year the fifth of November celebration was to be of more than ordinary
magnificence, for it was the last at which several of the elder boys,
among them Jack, could hope to be present. Fireworks committees were
formed and treasurers appointed, and nothing else was spoken of but the
sums collected and promised, and the apportionment thereof in Catherine
wheels, Chinese dragons, and so on. Jack was one of the treasurers. He
had been very successful so far, but the sum total on which he and his
companions had set their hearts was still unattained. The elder boys held
a committee meeting one day to consider ways and means, and the names of
all the subscribers were read out.
"'We _should_ manage two pounds more; we'd do then,' said one boy.
"'Are you sure everybody's been asked?' said another, running his eye
down the lists. 'Bless me, Sawyer's not in,' he added, looking up
inquiringly.
"'No one would ask him,' said the first boy, shrugging his shoulders.
"A sudden thought struck Jack.
"'I'll tell you what, _I'll_ do it,' he said, 'and, between ourselves, I
shouldn't much wonder if he comes down handsomely. He's been very civil
of late--I rather think he'd be glad of an opportunity to do something
obliging to make up for that mean trick of his about Carlo, and what's
more,' he added mysteriously, 'I happen to know he's by no means short of
funds just now.'
"They teased him to say more, but not another word on the subject could
be got out of Jack. What he knew was this--that very morning when the
letters came, he had happened to be standing beside Mr. Sawyer, who, with
an eager face, opened one that was handed to him. He was nervous as
usual, more nervous than usual probably, and perhaps his hands were
shaking, for as he drew his letter hastily out of the envelope, something
fluttered to the ground at Jack's feet.
"It was a cheque for twenty pounds, and conspicuous on the lowest line
was the signature of a well-known publishing firm. Instinctively Jack
stooped to pick it up and handed it to its owner--it had been impossible
for him not to see what he did, but he had thought no more about it,
beyond a passing wonder in his own mind, as to 'what on earth Sawyer got
to write about,' and had forgotten all about it till the meeting of the
fireworks committee recalled it to his memory.
"But it was with a feeling of pleasant expectancy, not unmixed with some
consciousness of his own magnanimity in 'giving old Sawyer a chance
again,' that Jack made his way to the junior master's quarters, the list
of subscribers in his hand.
"He made a pleasant picture, as, in answer to the 'come in' which
followed his knock at the door, he opened it and stood on the threshold
of Mr. Sawyer's room--his bright, honest, blue-eyed, fair-haired 'English
boy' face smiling in through the doorway. With almost painful eagerness
the junior master bade him welcome; he liked Jack so much, and would so
have rejoiced could the attraction have been mutual. And this was the
first time that Jack had voluntarily sought Mr. Sawyer in his own
quarters since the bar-jumping affair. Mr. Sawyer's spirits rose at the
sight of him, and hope again entered his heart--hope that after all, his
position at Ryeburn, which he was beginning to fear it was nonsense to
attempt to retain, in face of the evident dislike to him, might yet alter
for the better.
"'I have not a good way with them--that must be it,' he had said to
himself sadly that very morning. 'I never knew what it was to be a boy
myself, and therefore I suppose I don't understand boys. But if they
could but see into my heart and read there how earnestly I wish to do my
best by them, surely we could get on better together.'
"'Well, Berkeley--glad to see you--what can I do for you?' said Sawyer,
with a little nervous attempt at off-hand friendliness of manner, in
itself infinitely touching to any one with eyes to take in the whole
situation and judge it and him accordingly. But those eyes are not ours
in early life, more especially in _boy_-life. We must have our powers
of mental vision quickened and cleared by the magic dew of sad
experience--experience which alone can give sympathy worth having, ere we
can understand the queer bits of pathos we constantly stumble upon in
life, ere we can begin to judge our fellows with the large-hearted
charity that alone can illumine the glass through which for so long we
see so _very_ 'darkly.'
"'I have come to ask you for a subscription for the fifth of November
fireworks, Mr. Sawyer,' said Jack, plunging, as was his habit, right into
the middle of things, with no beating about the bush. 'We've asked all
the other masters, and every one in the school has subscribed, and I was
to tell you, sir, from the committee that they'll be very much obliged by
a subscription--and--and I really think they'll all be particularly
pleased if you can give us something handsome.'
"The message was civil, but hardly perhaps, coming from pupils to a
master, 'of the most respectful,' as French people say. But poor Sawyer
understood it--in some respects his perceptions were almost abnormally
sharp; he read between the lines of Jack's rough-and-ready, boy-like
manner, and understood perfectly that here was a chance for him--a
chance in a thousand, of gaining some degree of the popularity he had
hitherto so unfortunately failed to obtain. And to the bottom of his
heart he felt grateful to Berkeley--but alas!
"He grew crimson with vexation.
"'I am dreadfully sorry, Berkeley,' he said, 'dreadfully sorry that
I cannot respond as I would like to your request. At this moment
unfortunately, I am very peculiarly out of pocket. Stay,'--with a
momentary gleam of hope, 'will you let me see the subscription list.
How--how much do you think would please the boys?'
"'A guinea wouldn't be--would please them very much, and of course two
would be still better,' said Jack drily. Already he had in his own mind
pronounced a final verdict upon Mr. Sawyer, already he had begun to tell
himself what a fool he had been for having anything more to do with him,
but yet, with the British instinct of giving an accused man a fair
chance, he waited till all hope was over.
"'A guinea, two guineas?' repeated Mr. Sawyer sadly. 'It is perfectly
impossible;' and he shook his head regretfully but decidedly.
'Half-a-crown, or five shillings perhaps, if you would take it,' he
added hesitatingly, but stopped short on catching sight of the hard,
contemptuous expression that overspread Jack's face, but a moment ago
so sunny.
"No thank you, sir,' he replied. 'I should be very sorry to take _any_
subscription from you, knowing what I do, and so would all my companions.
You're a master, sir, and I'm a boy, but I can tell you I wish you _were_
a boy that I might speak out. I couldn't help seeing what came to you by
post this morning--you know I couldn't--and yet on the face of that you
tell me you're too hard-up to do what I came to ask like a gentleman--and
what would have been for your good in the end too. I'm not going to tell
what came to my knowledge by accident; you needn't be afraid of that, but
I'd be uncommonly sorry to take _anything_ from you for our fireworks.'
"And again Jack turned on his heel, and in hot wrath left the
under-master, muttering again between his set teeth as he did so the one
word 'cad.'
"'Jack,' Mr. Sawyer called after him, but either he did not call loud
enough or Jack would not take any notice of his summons, for he did not
return. What a pity! Had he done so, Mr. Sawyer, who understood him too
well to feel the indignation a more superficial person would have done
at his passionate outburst, had it in his heart to take the hasty,
impulsive, generous-spirited lad into his confidence and what might not
have been the result? What a different future for the poor under-master,
had he then and there and for ever won from the boy the respect and
sympathy he so well deserved!
"Jack returned to his companions gloomy but taciturn. He gave them to
understand that his mission had failed, and that henceforth he would have
nothing to say to Sawyer that he could help, and that was all. He entered
into no particulars, but there are occasions on which silence says more
than words, and from this time no voice was ever raised in the junior
master's defence--throughout the school he was never referred to except
as 'the cad,' or 'that cad Sawyer.'
"And alone in his own room, Mr. Sawyer, sorrowful but unresentful still,
was making up his mind that his efforts had been all in vain. 'I must
give it up,' he said. 'And both for myself and the boys the sooner the
better, before there is any overt disrespect which would _have_ to be
noticed. It is no use fighting on, I have not the knack of it. The boys
will never like me, and I may do harm where I would wish to do good. I
must try something else.'
"Two or three weeks later--a month perhaps--the boys were one day
surprised by the appearance of a strange face at what had been Mr.
Sawyer's desk. And on inquiry the new comer proved to be a young curate
accidentally in the neighbourhood, who had undertaken to fill for a few
weeks the under-master's vacant place. The occurrence made some
sensation--it was unusual for any change of the kind to take place during
a term. 'Was Sawyer ill?' one or two of the boys asked, as there came
before them the recollection of the young man's pale and careworn face,
and they recalled with some compunction the Pariah-like life that for
some time past had been his.
"No, he was not ill, they were informed, but he had requested the
head-master to supply his place and let him leave, for private reasons,
as soon as possible.
"What were the private reasons? The head-master and his colleagues had
tried in vain to arrive at them. Not one syllable of complaint had fallen
from the junior master's lips. He had simply repeated that, though sorry
to cause any inconvenience, it was of importance to him to leave at once.
"'At least,' he said to himself, 'I shall say nothing to get any of them
into trouble after I am gone.'
"And he had begged, too, that no public intimation of his resignation
should be given.
"But one or two of the boys had known it before it actually occurred--and
among them the Berkeley brothers. Late one cold evening, for winter had
set in very early that year, Mr. Sawyer had stopped them on their way
across the courtyard to their own rooms.
"'Berkeley,' he had said, 'I am leaving early to-morrow morning. I should
like to say good-bye and shake hands with you before I go. I have not
taken a good way with you boys, somehow, and--and the prejudice against
me has been very strong. But some day--when you are older perhaps, you
may come to think it possible you have misunderstood me. Be that as it
may, there is not and never has been any but good feeling towards you on
my part.'
"He held out his hand, but a spirit of evil had taken possession of
Jack--a spirit of hard, unforgiving prejudice.
"'Good-bye, Mr. Sawyer,' he said, but he stalked on without taking any
notice of the out-stretched hand, and Carlo, echoing the cold 'Good-bye,
Mr. Sawyer,' followed his example.
"But little Carlo's heart was very tender. He slept ill that night and
early, very early the next morning he was up and on the watch. There was
snow on the ground, snow, though December had scarcely set in, and it was
very cold.
"Carlo shivered as he hung about the door leading to Mr. Sawyer's room,
and he wondered why the fly which always came for passengers by the early
London train had not yet made its appearance, little imagining that not
by the comfortable express, but third class in a slow 'parliamentary' Mr.
Sawyer's journey was to be accomplished. And, when at last the thin
figure of the under-master emerged from the doorway, it went to the boy's
heart to see that he himself was carrying the small black bag which held
his possessions.
"'I have come to wish you good-bye again, sir,' said Carlo, 'and I am
sorry I didn't shake hands last night. And--and--I believe Jack would
have come too, if he'd thought of it.'
"Mr. Sawyer's eyes glistened as he shook the small hand held out to him.
"'Thank you, my boy,' he said earnestly, how much I thank you you will
never know.'
"'And is that all your luggage?' asked Carlo, half out of curiosity, half
by way of breaking the melancholy of the parting, which somehow gave him
a choky feeling about the throat.
"'Oh no,' said Mr. Sawyer, entering into the boy's shrinking from
anything like a scene, 'oh no, I sent on my box by the carrier last
Saturday. It would have been _rather_ too big to carry.' He spoke in his
usual commonplace tone, more cheerful, less nervous perhaps than its
wont. Then once more, with a second hearty shake of the hand,
"'Good-bye again, my boy, and God bless you." And Carlo, his eyes dim in
spite of his intense determination to be above such weakness, stood
watching the dark figure, conspicuous against the white-sheeted ground
and steel-blue early morning winter sky.
"'I wonder if we've been right about him,' he said to himself. 'I'm glad
I came, any way.'
"And there came a day when others beside little Carlo himself were glad,
oh so glad, that he had 'come' that snowy morning to bid the solitary
traveller Godspeed."
[Illustration: 'GOOD-BYE AGAIN, MY BOY, AND GOD BLESS YOU!']