Railsford for a brief moment had shared the opinion of his distinguished
pupil, that the doctor had let the house off easily. But two minutes'
reflection sufficed to undeceive him. The house was to dine daily at
one o'clock in Railsford's. That meant that they were to be cut off
from all association with the rest of the school out of school hours,
and that just when all the rest turned out into the playing-fields they
were to sit down at their disgraced board. The half-holiday regulation
was still worse. For that meant nothing short of the compulsory
retirement of his boys from all the clubs, and, as far as athletics
went, their total exclusion from every match or contest open to the
whole school.
The house was slower at taking in the situation of affairs than the
master. With the exception of Ainger, on whom the full significance of
the doctor's sentence had flashed from the first, there was a general
feeling of surprise that so big a "row" should be followed by so
insignificant a retribution.
"Who cares what time we have dinner," said Munger to some of his
admirers, "as long as we get it after all? Now if old Punch (this was
an irreverent corruption of the head-master's name current in certain
sets at Grandcourt)--if old Punch had stopped our grub one day a week--"
"Besides," broke in another, "we'll get things hotter than when we dined
in hall."
"A precious sight hotter," said Arthur, wrathfully. "What are we to do
at beagle-time to-morrow? Just when the hounds start we've got to turn
in to dinner. Bah!"
This was the first practical illustration of the inconvenience of the
new _regime_, and it instantly suggested others.
"We'll be stumped," said Tilbury, "if this goes on after cricket
starts--it'll be all up with any of us getting into one of the School
matches."
"I suppose," said Ranger of the Fifth, "this will knock all of us out of
the sports, too?"
Fellows looked blank at the suggestion. Yet a moment's reflection
showed that Ranger was right. One o'clock was the daily training hour
in the playing-fields, and Saturday afternoon four weeks hence was the
date fixed for the School sports.
It took some days for Railsford's house to accommodate itself to the new
order of things imposed upon it. Indeed, it took twenty-four hours for
Grandcourt generally to comprehend the calamity which had befallen the
disgraced house. When one o'clock arrived on the first afternoon, and
neither Ainger, Wake, Wignet, Tilbury, Herapath, nor the other familiar
frequenters of the playing-field, put in an appearance, speculation
began to pass about as to the cause of their absence. Some of Bickers's
boys knew there had been a "howling shine" about something. But it was
not till Smedley, impatient to settle some question relating to the
sports, sent his fag to fetch Ainger that it became generally known what
had happened. The fag returned with an important face.
"Such a go!" said he, in reply to his chief's inquiry; "there's a feast
going on at Railsford's! Smelt fine! I saw them through the door, but
couldn't go in, because Railsford was there. Ainger and all the lot
were tucking in. The beef was just going in, so they've only just
started."
"Jolly shame!" said someone who overheard this announcement; "we never
get feasts in our house! I suppose Railsford thinks he'll get his chaps
in a good-humour by it. It's not fair unless everybody does it."
"It'll be hall-time before they've done. We'd better not wait," said
one of the Sixth. "I wonder what it all means?"
"I heard Ponsford had been down rowing them about something this
morning--something some of them had been doing to Bickers, I believe."
"Very likely; Bickers looked as green as a toad this morning, didn't he,
Branscombe?"
"He did look fishy," said Branscombe, shortly, "but I say, Smedley,
hadn't we better measure off without Ainger, and get him to see if he
approves afterwards?"
So the work went on without the representatives of Railsford's house,
and the bell rang for school-dinner before any of the missing ones had
put in an appearance.
The mystery was heightened when in Hall the fifty seats usually occupied
by Railsford's boys stood empty; and no inquiry was made from the
masters' table as to the cause of the defection. It was noticed that
Mr Railsford himself was not present, and that Mr Bickers still looked
upset and out of sorts.
"Have you any idea what the row is?" said Smedley to Branscombe as the
company stood round the tables, waiting for the doctor.
"How should I know? You'd better go and ask up there."
Smedley did. As the doctor entered, he marched up to meet him, and
said,--
"None of Mr Railsford's house are here yet, sir."
"Quite right. Call silence for grace and begin," said the doctor,
slowly.
For the rest of the day Railsford's seemed to be playing hide and seek
with the rest of the school, and it was not till late in the evening
that the mystery was cleared up.
"Come and let's see what it's all about," said Smedley to Branscombe.
Both the seniors had been fretting all the afternoon with a sense of
something gone wrong at Grandcourt, the former with just a little
indignation that he, the captain of the school, should be kept in the
dark, along with everybody else, on the subject.
"I ought to work," said Branscombe; "you go and _tell_ me what's up."
"Why, I thought you were as anxious as anyone to know?"
"So I am," said Branscombe, who to do him justice looked thoroughly
worried; "but you know while there's this row on between the two houses
I--I don't care to go over there without being asked."
"_I_ asked you, didn't I?" said Smedley. "You're not afraid of being
eaten up, are you? Never mind. I'll brave the wild beasts myself, and
let you know how I get on."
It was the rule at Grandcourt that after dark no boy from one house
might enter another without permission. Smedley therefore went straight
to Railsford.
"May I go and see Ainger, please, sir?"
"Certainly. And, Smedley," said the master, as the captain retired,
"look in here for a moment as you go out. I want to see you about the
sports."
Smedley found Ainger alone, and heard from him a full, true, and
particular account of the day's events.
The captain's wrath was unbounded.
"What!" he exclaimed, "cut all of you out of the sports and everything!
I say, Ainger, it must be stopped, I tell you. I'll go to the doctor."
"Might as well go to the unicorn over the gate," said Ainger.
"Can't you find the fellows?"
"That's just it. There's not even a fellow in the house I can suspect
so far."
"You feel sure it's one of your fellows?"
"It couldn't be anyone else. Roe's and Grover's fellows never come over
our side, and never have anything to do with Bickers. And it's hardly
likely any of Bickers's fellows would have done it. In fact, ever since
Bickers came in here the other night and thrashed one of our fellows,
the two houses have been at daggers drawn."
"So Branscombe said. He didn't seem to care about coming in with me. I
asked him."
"I don't wonder. Some of the young fools down there would give him a
hot reception for no other reason than that he belongs to Bickers's
house."
"I don't fancy he's proud of that distinction," said Smedley, laughing.
"But, I say, can't anything be done?"
"Nothing; unless Railsford can do anything."
"Railsford asked me to go in and see him. Come, too, old man."
But Railsford had nothing to suggest. He explained dejectedly the
effect of the doctor's sentence. It meant that his house was out of
everything in the playing-fields; and that, as for himself, he was as
much excluded as his boys. And he confirmed Ainger's opinion that it
was utterly useless to appeal further to the doctor.
"It would be only fair, sir," said Smedley, "for you to take back the
prize and subscription you offered for the sports."
"Certainly not, my dear fellow," said the master. "If I cannot take
part in the sports in person, at least I would like to have some finger
in the pie."
That was all that passed.
"I like Railsford," said Smedley; "he's genuinely cut up."
"It's awfully rough on him," replied Ainger.
The two friends said good-bye.
"By the way, Smedley," said Ainger, calling the captain back, "I may as
well tell you, we are going to have our revenge for all this."
"What!" said Smedley, rather alarmed. "Surely you're not going to--"
"To roast the doctor? No. But we're going to make this the crack house
of the school in spite of him."
Smedley laughed.
"Good! You've a busy time before you, old man. I'll promise to keep it
dark--ha! ha!"
"You may think it a joke, dear old chap," said Ainger, standing at the
door and watching his retreating figure, "but even the captain of
Grandcourt will have to sit up by-and-by."
Smedley, the brave and impetuous, walked straight from Railsford's to
the doctor's. He knew his was a useless mission, but he wasn't going to
shirk it. The doctor would snub him and tell him to mind his own
affairs; "but"--so said the hero to himself--"what do I care? I'll tell
him a piece of my mind, and if he like to tell me a piece of his, that's
only fair. Here goes!"
The doctor was engaged in his study, said the servant; but if Mr
Smedley would step into the drawing-room he would come in a few minutes.
Smedley stepped into the dimly-lighted drawing-room accordingly, which,
to his consternation, he found already had an occupant. The doctor's
niece was at the piano.
Smedley, for once in a way, behaved like a coward, and having advanced a
step or two into the room, suddenly turned tail and retreated.
"Don't go, Mr Smedley," said a pleasant voice behind him. "Uncle will
be here in a minute."
"Oh, I--good-evening, Miss Violet. I'm afraid of--"
"Not of me, are you? I'll go if you like," said she, laughing, "and
then you'll have the room to yourself."
"Oh no, please. I didn't mean that. Won't you play or sing something,
Miss Violet?"
So Miss Violet sang "Cherry Ripe," and then, the doctor not having yet
put in an appearance, Smedley asked if she would mind playing the
accompaniment of "Down among the Dead Men," as he would like to try it
over.
The young lady cheerfully complied, and when presently the head-master
stalked into the room he was startled, and possibly a little amused, to
be met with the defiant shout of his head boy,--
"And he that will this health deny,
Down among the dead men--down among the--"
He was shaking his fist above his head, after the fashion of the song at
the school suppers, when he suddenly stopped short at the sight of the
doctor, and realised the horror of the situation.
"Go on, Mr Smedley," said Miss Violet, "finish the verse. We shan't be
a moment, uncle."
But Smedley could as soon have finished that verse as fly up the
chimney. So the doctor's niece finished it for him, and then, with a
"Good-night, Mr Smedley; thank you very much for the song," she tripped
out of the room, leaving the hero to his fate.
It was not a very terrible fate after all.
"You and my niece have been having quite a concert," said the doctor.
"I hope I did not disturb you, sir. Miss Violet was so kind as to play
some accompaniments for me while I was waiting for you."
"You want to see me. What is it, Smedley?"
Smedley till this moment had forgotten the object of his delicate
mission, and now, suddenly recalled to business, felt less taste than
ever for his task. Still he must go through with it.
"It was about Mr Railsford's house, sir."
"That, Smedley, is not a subject for discussion."
"I know, sir. All I mean is that the whole school will suffer."
"That increases the responsibility of those who can rectify all by
owning their misconduct."
"Won't it be possible to make some exceptions, sir? Our School sports
will go all to pieces without Ainger and Barnworth and some of their
fellows."
"You must see they do not go to pieces, Smedley," said the doctor; "it
would be unworthy of the school if they did. As for Mr Railsford's
boys, I have said what I had to say to them, and have nothing more to
add."
"But Mr Railsford himself, sir," began the captain, desperately playing
his last card; "we hoped he--"
"It is a most unfortunate thing for everyone," said the doctor--"I
include myself and you and Mr Railsford. We are called upon to make a
sacrifice, and there should be no question about our being willing, all
of us, to make it for the good of the school. Good-night, Smedley,
good-night."
Smedley walked back, humming "Cherry Ripe" to himself, and feeling
decidedly depressed about things in general.