The important day arrived when Reginald was to be examined by his tutor,
that it might be ascertained where he was to be placed in the school.
He got up before the bell rang, soused his head thoroughly in cold
water, and, having sponged himself all over, dressed briskly, and sat
down to look over some of the books he knew. He was pretty well up in
Greek as well as in Latin, though he had not gone very deep into the
intricacies of either language. Mr Nugent, his tutor, had grounded him
well also in mathematics, so that he was in no particular fright as to
the result of his examination. He wanted, however, to be as well placed
as possible, if the truth might be known, to get out of fagging as soon
as he could.
After prayers, Mr Lindsay told him to come to his room with his books.
He went there with a good heart also. His Latin construing and parsing
seemed to satisfy his tutor, and then he read some Greek. Mr Lindsay
looked pleased. This encouraged him. He went over book after book with
perfect ease. The chances are, that he knew less than many a boy who
had passed a much worse examination; but he had the advantage of
possessing well-strung nerves, and of not feeling that he was doing
anything dreadful or out of the way. Whatever he did know he recalled
at once to his memory. He had also no wish to pretend to know more than
he did. All was perfectly natural with him. His head and his voice
were clear, and so on he went without the slightest hesitation. Had he
been suddenly asked to sing a song which he knew, he could have done so
with ease.
"You have got through very well," said Mr Lindsay; "I am happy to say
that I shall be able to get you very satisfactorily placed."
Reginald was not a little pleased. He would have liked to ask "Where?"
but he thought that might not be etiquette; so he restrained his
curiosity, and ran off with a light stop to deposit his books in his
room, and afterwards to join Power at breakfast, with a remarkably good
appetite.
"Where do you think I shall be, though?" he asked more than once. Power
guessed, but did not like to run the risk of disappointing him, so
wisely would not give an opinion. At last, a short time before eleven
o'clock, he set off with Mr Lindsay to make his _debut_ in school. He
was left by himself in the school-yard while Mr Lindsay, as did most of
the masters, went into "Chambers," to have a talk with the Doctor. He
felt for a moment a little forlorn, standing in that wide place with so
many boys around him, and yet not one he could call a friend or even an
acquaintance; for neither Power nor Anson had yet come.
The boys now began to pour into the school-yard. Many came up to him
and began the old standard questions.
"What's your name?" asked one; "any relation of Warrender at Rowley's?"
"No," answered Reginald. "I have had no relation here since my father
was at Eton, that I know of."
"Oh, yes--but surely you're a cousin of Tom Jones?" observed one who was
looked upon as a great wag.
"I am not aware that I have that honour," answered Reginald.
Several similar questions he had to answer, which he did in perfect good
humour. At last a big, hulking fellow, who looked as if he had got fat
on sucking-things, rolled up to him. There was something in the boy's
air which reminded him wonderfully of a bully at his former school.
"How are you, Master Jones?" said the fellow, with a supercilious look.
"Pretty well, Tommy Green," answered Reginald, giving him back glance
for glance.
"How dare you call me Green!" exclaimed the big boy, looking angry.
"Because you have a remarkably verdant hue about you," answered
Reginald, who felt galled by the tone of bullying superiority assumed by
the other.
The big boy's rage at the unusual impudence of a new fellow instantly
blazed forth. "Take that for your pains, young one!" he cried out,
giving Reginald a blow on the chest; "and that--and that--and that."
Reginald was for a moment staggered, but instantly recovering himself,
he flew at the big fellow, and returned the blows with interest.
"A mill--a mill--a mill!" was the cry, and fellows rushed up from all
parts of the yard, and closely surrounded the combatants. Reginald
defended himself as well as he could from his big antagonist, who,
fortunately, though evidently inclined to bully, was no great adept in
the science of pugilism. At another time Reginald would have fought
with the hope of victory; now his chief object was to defend his face,
so that he might not have to make his appearance before the Doctor with
a black eye or a bleeding nose. He made up for want of size and weight,
and science also, for he had not much of it, by his activity, and
consequently the big fellow exhausted his strength by frequently
striking at the air, when he thought that he was going to put in an
effective blow. As Reginald's courage and coolness manifested
themselves, he gained plenty of supporters, and he soon guessed that his
opponent was no great favourite. The exclamations and cries in his
favour every moment grew warmer and warmer. This encouraged him, or
rather, for he did not want much encouragement, discouraged the other.
He continued fighting as cautiously, but commenced more aggressive
operations, very much to the astonishment of the big fellow, who had
fancied that he was going to gain an easy victory,--in fact, intended to
give the new-comer a thrashing for his impudence.
"Well done! well done! Famously hit! Bravo! Pitch into him, little
one!" were the exclamations over and over again repeated by his friends;
while the opposite party kept shouting, "Go it, Cicester!--Give it him
soundly!--Hit him hard!" Cirencester, however, did not seem to be very
successful in putting this advice into execution, and impartial
observers were of opinion that Warrender was getting the best of it,
when the cry was raised of "All up--all up!" and the masters were seen
coming out of the Doctor's door. After stopping a minute to have a
short chat together, they proceeded to the school.
The moment the masters appeared, the combatants were separated, and
Cirencester drew off without making any remark. The delay enabled
Reginald to arrange his neck-tie, smooth his hair, and shake himself
into his jacket. He felt rather bruised and heated, but he bore
fortunately no remarkable outward traces of his combat. He soon
rejoined Mr Lindsay, who took him to the Doctor, who looked, he
thought, benignantly at him, and great was his satisfaction to find that
he was placed in the Lower Remove.
From that moment he resolved to show that he had not been wrongly
placed. It was a great satisfaction to feel that he should have only to
remain a year numbered among those who could be fagged. He was thus
also only one division below Power. He found that unless he was
"plucked," he should rise one division every half-year, with certain
trials and examinations interposed, into Fifth Form, and so on, but that
there was no trial into Sixth Form, the vacancies in it being filled up
by seniority.
Power and Anson congratulated him on his successful _debut_ in the
school-yard.
"Cicester, big as he looks, is below you in the school," observed Anson.
"He is an earl, but we don't take note here of titles. He eats too
much to be strong, and thinks too much of himself to have many real
friends. I am very glad that you treated him as you did, because I
think that it will sicken him of attacking you again, and make other
fellows treat you with respect. Of course, however, there are
tuft-hunters here as well as elsewhere, and as some of the Fifth Form
are among his friends, you must expect to be fagged a little sharply by
them occasionally, if you get in their way. However, you'll know how to
manage to keep out of rows. One thing I have found out; there is no use
attempting to shirk fagging. A fellow is always certain to get the
worst of it. There is no dodge a fellow can try which the Fifth Form
are not up to, because you see that they have tried them all themselves.
The worst thing a fellow can do is to show the sulks. He is certain to
take nothing by it. I always find it best to do a thing willingly and
promptly, however disagreeable it may be."
Reginald thanked his friends for their advice, and moreover took care to
follow it.
The next day, when he went into school, he was found to have prepared
his lessons particularly well, and the master looked at him with an
approving eye, as a boy likely to do credit to himself, and some little,
perhaps, to the school. From the very first Reginald set himself
against the use of cribs. He was rather laughed at for this, at first,
by his associates, who were aware of what they considered his peculiar
crotchet.
"I have just a question to ask you fellows," he observed one day. "Do
you think it right or gentlemanly to tell a lie? Answer me seriously,
not in joke."
It was agreed that a lie was ungentlemanly and wrong.
"Well, is it not equivalent to the telling a lie to pretend to have
obtained knowledge in one way, when you have obtained it in another? Is
it not the same to take up a copy of verses or an exercise which you did
not write, and to pretend that you wrote them? That is one reason why I
will not use a crib. I should feel ashamed of myself, and disgraced
every time I did so. Another reason is, that we came to school to gain
knowledge, to prepare ourselves for college, and for our future course
in life, as completely as we can; and the use of cribs prevents our
doing this, for though they may enable us to get through a lesson,
depend on it a lesson learnt with them is very quickly again forgotten.
There is nothing like having to turn over the leaves of a dictionary
that we may find a word, to enable us to remember it."
"Yes, but few fellows can turn over the leaves as quickly as you can,"
observed Anson.
"I learned the knack at a private tutor's long ago," answered Reginald.
"I thought it a bore at first, but he showed us how to do it properly,
and I very soon found the advantage of what he insisted on."
Power supported Reginald in this and many other respects, when he held
out boldly against what his straightforward, honest mind at once saw to
be bad practices. He made enemies by so doing, but he also made
friends; the enemies he made were the least worthy, and the friends the
most worthy of his school-fellows--many of them becoming and continuing
firm and fast ones.
Reginald very soon made acquaintance with old Harry Cannon, the waterman
at Cuckoo Weir. Fully thirty fellows were either standing on Lower
Steps or in punts, without a rag on them, ready to plunge into the clear
stream; or were swimming about by themselves, spluttering and coughing;
or were being dangled at the end of old Harry's blue pole. Reginald had
thought that it was necessary to go, at all events, in the first place,
to old Harry. Many of the fellows, not knowing that he could swim,
tried to frighten him; but, without much ceremony, he doffed his
clothes, and in he went with a "rat's header" at once, and swam boldly
up the stream, stemming it lustily; then he turned a sommersault, trod
water, and went through a variety of manoeuvres to which the youngsters
present were but little accustomed.
"You'll do, sir; you'll do," shouted old Harry, quite delighted with the
spirited way in which he took to the water; "a Newfoundland dog couldn't
have done it better."
Of course, on the first "passing day," Reginald--who was to be met by
Power, Anson, and some others of his new friends, in a boat--started off
for Middle Steps.
The masters stood ready. Reginald jumped into the punt, and, with
several others, was carried out into mid-stream. Several were ordered
to plunge overboard before him. Most of them went in with "footers,"
and now two or three were ordered to come out and take further lessons
from old Harry. Reginald waited patiently till his turn came, and then
overboard he went with a fine "rat's header," and downwards he dived.
He did not come up. The masters were alarmed, and shouted to old Harry
to look for him.
"What can have become of the boy?" exclaimed one of them, in real alarm.
Suddenly, not far off, up came Reginald, with a big stone in his hand.
"All right!" he exclaimed. "I wanted to bring a trophy from the
bottom;" and, depositing it on Middle Steps, away he swam in good style
to Lower Steps. Just touching them, away he went--now swimming with one
arm, now with the other, now with both hands like a dog, now turning on
his back and striking out with his feet.
"You'll do, and do famously!" exclaimed the master, who was not famed
for bestowing unnecessary compliments on any one.
Reginald came out with no little feeling of allowable pride, and,
dressing quickly, stepped on board the boat, when, taking the yoke-lines
in a knowing manner, he steered away for Bargemen's Bridge, where the
stream once more joins the river.
Reginald at once threw himself into boating most zealously. He was
always on the water, practising away, and soon became as proficient with
oars as with sculls--his great ambition being to belong to an eight-oar.
He and Power took a lock-up between them, for which they paid five
pounds; and though they liked it very much, they agreed that it was not
half so much fun as their boating in old days at Osberton, with Toby
Tubb as coxswain. Reginald did not neglect cricket, however; but as he
was still numbered among the Lower boys he could only belong to the
Sixpenny Club.
The playing-fields at Eton are divided between different clubs. The
boys subscribe to one or the other according to their position in the
school. Above the Sixpenny, to which the entrance is only one shilling,
is the Lower Club, to which those in the Fifth Form belong who are
considered not to play well enough to belong to the Upper Club. To the
Upper Club the clever and all the first-rate players alone belong. The
grand cricketing time is "after six," when, in the playing-fields, the
balls are flying about as thickly as in a general action, or, at all
events, as at "Lord's" on practising days; while, especially at the
great matches in the Upper Club, the non-players lie on the turf,
indulging largely in Bigaroon cherries and other fruits in season, and
making their remarks on the game.
Such is the every-day Eton life in which Reginald found himself placed.
There was abundance of occupation to pass the time, and yet no very
salient events worthy of description. After he had been there about a
fortnight, he found himself apportioned, by the captain of his house, to
a master who had already another fag. That fag, Cross, had been all his
school-life at Eton, and was well accustomed to the work, so thought
nothing of it; but when Reginald first found himself ordered to perform
some menial office, he could not help his spirit rising in rebellion;
but he soon conquered the feeling, the absurdity of which he
acknowledged to himself, and he at once set about his task with a
cheerful countenance and willing hands. The out-of-door fagging went
more against the grain, as he did not like to be sent here or there by
any stranger about some trifle, when he wanted to be doing something
else; but he soon got reconciled to that also, with the reflection that
all Eton fellows had to go through it.
Cross and he got on very well together. They were not great friends,
but they never quarrelled. Their master, Coventry, was good-natured,
though strict in having the duties they owed him performed, and his
orders obeyed.
Reginald was talking over Coventry's character with Power, and
observed--"I would fifty times rather serve a strict master like him
than one of your easy-going, idle fellows, who all of a sudden takes it
into his head that he will have everything in apple-pie order, and
thrashes you because you do not know what he wants."
"Certainly," answered Power. "When I first came I had a master who
never by any chance was in the same mind two days together. He would
have different things for breakfast and tea, and everything in his room
arranged differently. He kept my mind on a continual stretch to guess
what he would want, till he made me very nearly as mad as himself. At
last I informed him that I would do anything that he told me, but that I
could not undertake to guess his wishes. He could not see the
reasonableness of my arguments, and so I at length gave up any attempt
to please him--he of course never being satisfied; and thus we went on
till the end of the half."
What with observation, conversation, and his own personal experience,
Reginald daily gained a larger amount of knowledge of the world in which
he was destined to move--not of the bad which was taking place, but of
the way to conduct himself in it.