"Wait! This, in a way, is a defeat. But I'll arrange a jolly good
Waterloo for Cherry Ripe yet."
Meaning, of course, that he would be Wellington, and that Cherry Ripe
would be merely Napoleon.
However, though I didn't say it to Trelawny, I doubt very much if he is
clever enough to score off Cherry Ripe till he grows up. Then, of
course, Cherry Ripe will find him a bitter and relentless foe.
*THE QWARRY*
*No. IX*
*THE QWARRY*
If your parints happen to live in India, of corse holidays are not all
they might be. Becorse India is too far off to go to often, and such
relations as aunts and uncles don't seem much to care to have you if you
are the son of an Indian soldier. But grandmothers always seem to want
to have you; at leest they do in the case of Travers; but his parints
are ded. Anyway me and Morris have to stop at Dr Dunstan's for
holidays, and so we have to be friends at those times. I am eleven and
he is twelve and we are very diffrent, him being never knone to lose a
conduct mark, and me being ordinry. I am called Foster and the hapiest
day of my life was when I got ten shillings all at once, being my ninth
birthday in a postal order from my father. The first fealing was one of
shere joy, and the second fealing was that if it had been a pound it
would have been better.
I remember the birthday only too well, though nearly two years ago,
because immedeetly after getting the money I wrote to Mr Gammidge--the
grand toy and games man--for some important things wanted by me and my
chum, Smythe--him that cut off the Doctor's tiger's tail with such
disasterous results. And by grate ill-luck that beest Steggles looked
over my sholder and saw how I had begun my letter. I had asked Smythe
how to begin it in a very respectful way, so as to please Mr Gammidge,
and Smythe had said, "I should make it as friendly as you possibly can;"
and I had said, "yes." Then I thort that as the friendliest letters I
ever write are to my mother, I would begin it like that; and I had
written down "Darling Mr Gammidge, I shall be very grately obliged by
your sending me if you have time by return of post"--certain things.
Becorse Mr Gammidge was quite as much to me as my mother in those days,
if not more.
Well, the beestly Steggles saw this and set up a loud and hideous yell
of laughter which was very paneful to me and Smythe. And presently,
when he had drawn the attenshun of many chaps to the letter, he told us
on no account to send it, but to write in a firm and manly tone and
_order_ the things. He said when you are sending postal orders you have
always the rite to be firm and manly; and when you are asking for them,
that is the time to be affecshunite. So we wrote the letter again and
merely said, "Dere Mr Gammidge," and sined ourselves, "yours truly,
Arnold Foster and Huxley Smythe."
I must now return to Morris, who was left at Merivale with me during the
grate summer holiday last year. In a way his luck was friteful although
he had nowhere to go in holidays. Even his amusements were such that
they turned into marks and pleesed the masters, such as natural history;
and his conduct marks were so exstraordinry that he never lost any at
all without an effort.
In face he was nothing, being sandy-haired and pail with a remarkably
small mouth and watery eyes. He had not much courage but was fond of
chaps who had, and he liked me and Smythe more for our courage than
anything. We tried without success to increese his courage, and he
helped us a lot with work that didn't want courage but only intelleck,
of which he had a grate deal.
It was reely owing to my courage that the adventure of the old slate
qwarry happened. You see the holiday competishun for that year was a
colleckshun of insect life, such as beetles, moths and butterflies, and
as Merivale happened to be a fine place for insect life in general,
Morris determined to win the prize if he could.
When the Doctor and his family went off to the seaside, the last thing
he said to me and Morris was this--
"Farewell, my dear lads. Persue all innocent pleasures and give no
corse of offence during the vocation. The Matron will be at your
service and she has the key of the liberary. The playing field is also
open to you, and having regard for the seeson I relax a little of the
riggid discipline of time and place, of hours and bounderies, proper to
the term. But I put you on your honour in this matter and feal that the
chastening influenze of Morris will possibly serve to restrain the
native exooberance of Foster. Lastly I have directed that the
comissariat shall be ordered on a generous--nay, lavvish skale.
Good-bye, my dear boys, and God bless you."
We said "good-bye," and I hoped that the Doctor and Missis Dunstan and
the gurl Dunstans would have a good time; and the Doctor thanked me and
said he was glad I had the grace to make that wish; and after he had
gone, Morris said that he very nearly said "God bless you" to the
Doctor, but staid just in time. And I said it was jolly lucky he had,
for it certainly would have been friteful cheek to do it.
Then two cabs rolled away with the Doctor and his luggage and his
family, and me and Morris were left. We found what 'comissariat' ment
at dinner, and I will say that the food was magnificent, and the Matron
was a brick all through the holidays--very diffrent to what she is in
term time; and she told us a lot about her private life, which turned
out that she was a widow Matron with a son. And Morris said "Why don't
you bring your son here, Matron?" And I said "Of corse, why don't you?"
And Morris said "It would hurt the Doctor's fealings a good deal if he
knew you had a son being educated somewhere else." And she said it was
all right and the Doctor was as kind as any man could be, and that the
son was working hard and was a very good son, being an office-boy in a
lawer's office in London.
Then came the qwarry and my temptashun of Morris, which ended in Morris
going to the qwarry.
The qwarry was certainly out of bounds, and it was when out of bounds in
secret with Freckles and other big chaps that I found all the wonders of
it. It was a stone qwarry in Merivale Grate Wood, and there were game
preserves near by, where Freckles hunted and practiced to be a
bush-ranger when he went home to Australia. But of course Morris had
never seen the place, because he never went out of bounds at all, from
fear and also from goodness, but cheefly from fear.