"He who hath a thousand friends hath not one friend to spare,
And he who hath one enemy shall meet him everywhere."
Already Walter had got someone to talk to, someone he knew; for in spite
of Kenrick's repudiation of Henderson's jest, he felt already that he
had discovered a boy with whom he should soon be friends. It doesn't
matter how he had discovered it; it was by animal magnetism; it was by
some look in Kenrick's eyes; it was his light-heartedness; it was by the
mingled fire and refinement of his face which spoke of a wilful and
impetuous, yet also of a generous and noble nature. Already he felt a
sense of ease and pleasure in the certainty that Kenrick--evidently no
cipher among his schoolfellows--was inclined to like him, and to show
him the ways of the school.
They went into a large hall, where the four hundred had their meals.
They sat at a number of tables arranged breadth-wise across the hall;
twenty or thirty sat at each table, and either a master or a monitor (as
the sixteen upper boys were called) took his place at the head of it.
"Now, mind you don't begin to smoke," said Henderson, as Walter went in,
and found most of the boys already seated.
"Smoke?" said Walter, taking it for a bit of good advice; "do fellows
smoke in Hall? I never have smoked."
"Why, you're smoking now," said Henderson, as Walter, entering among the
crowd of strange faces and meeting so many pairs of eyes, began to blush
a little.
"Don't teaze him, Flip," said Kenrick. "Smoking is the name fellows
give to blushing, Evson; and if they see you given to blushing, they'll
stare at you for the fun of seeing the colour mount up in your cheeks."
Accordingly, as he sat down, he saw that numerous eyes were turned upon
him and upon Tracy, who happened to sit at the same table. Tracy,
unaccustomed to such very narrow scrutiny, blushed all over; and, as he
in vain looked up and down, this way and that, his cheeks grew hotter
and hotter, and he moved about in the most uneasy way, to the great
amusement of his many tormentors, until at last his eyes subsided
finally into his teacup, from which he did not again venture to raise
them until tea was over. But Walter was at once up to the trick, and
felt thoroughly obliged to Henderson and Kenrick for telling him of it.
So he waited till he saw that a good dozen fellows were all intently
staring at him; and then, looking up very simply and naturally, he met
the gaze of two or three of them steadily in succession, and stared them
out of countenance with a quiet smile. This turned the laugh against
them; and he heard the remark that he was "up to snuff, and no mistake."
No one ever tried to make Walter smoke again, but for some time it used
to be a regular joke to pass round word at tea-time, "Let's make Tracy
smoke," and as Tracy always _did_ smoke till he got thoroughly used to
it, he was generally glad when tea-time was over.
In spite of Henderson, who poked fun at them all tea-time (till he saw
that he really embarrassed them, and then he desisted), Kenrick sat by
Walter, and took him more or less under his protection; for an "old boy"
can always patronise a newcomer at first, even if they are of the same
age.
From Kenrick Walter learnt, rather to his dismay, that he really would
have no place to sit in except the big schoolroom, which he would share
with some fifty others, and that he would be placed in a dormitory with
at least five or six besides himself.
"Have you been examined yet?" asked Kenrick.
"No; but Dr Lane asked me what books I had read, and he told me that I
was to go and take my chance in Mr Paton's form. What form is that?"
"It's what we call the Virgil form. Have you ever read Virgil?"
"No; at least only a few easy bits."
"I wish you joy, then."
"Why? what sort of a fellow is Mr Paton?"
"Mr Paton? he's not a man at all; he's a machine; he's the wheel of a
mill; he's a cast-iron automaton; he's--"
"The abomination of desolation spoken of by Daniel the prophet,"
observed Henderson, who had caught a fragment of the conversation. "I'm
in his form, too, worse luck!"
"Hush! shut up, Henderson, and don't be profane," said Kenrick. "Well,
Evson, you'll soon find out what Paton's like; anything but `a patten of
bright gold' at any rate."
"Oh! oh! turn him out for his bad pun," said Henderson, hitting him with
a pellet of bread, for which offence he immediately received "fifty
lines" from the master at the other end of the table.
"Don't abuse Paton," said a boy named Daubeny, which name Henderson had
long ago contracted into Dubbs. "I always found him a capital master to
be under, and really very kind."
"Oh, _you_--yes," answered Kenrick; "if we were all gifted with your
mouselike stillness in school, my dear old Dubbs--"
"And your metallic capacity of grind, my dear old Dubbs," added
Henderson.
"And your ostrich-like digestion of crabbed rules, my dear old Dubbs;
why, then," said Kenrick, "we should all be boys after Paton's heart."
"Or Paton's pattern," suggested Henderson; so it was now Kenrick's turn
to shudder at a miserable attempt at a pun, and return Henderson's
missile, whereupon he got a _hundred_ lines, which made him pull a very
long face.
"Who's to be your tutor, Evson?" he asked after this interlude.
"I suppose you're going to pick him to pieces, now," said Daubeny,
smiling; "don't you believe half they say of him, Evson."
"Oh, if you're sharp, and successful, and polite, and gentlemanly, and
jolly, and all that sort of thing, he'll like you very much, and be
exceedingly kind to you; but if you are lazy, or mischievous, or stupid,
or at all a pickle, he'll ignore you, snub you, won't speak to you. I
wish you'd been in the same pupil-room with me."
"Depends on who he is, O virtuous Dubbs," said Henderson. "His end
shall be `pieces,' as _Punch_ says, if he deserves it."
"He told me I was to be Mr Robertson's pupil," said Walter. "Hum-m!"
observed Kenrick. "Why, what sort of a person is he?"
"Some of his pups detest him, others adore him."
"Why?"
"Who's your tutor, then?"
"Percival; there, the master who is chatting and laughing with those
monitors. He's a regular brick. _Plinthos estin_ as we say in Greek,"
said Kenrick. "Halloa! tea's over."
"And you've been chattering so much that the new fellow's had none,"
said Henderson, as a bell rang and one of the monitors read a short
Latin grace.
The boys streamed out, and Kenrick helped his new friend to unpack his
books and other treasures, and put them in his desk, for which they
ordered a new lock. The rest of the evening was occupied with "Evening
Work," a time during which all the boys below a certain form sat in the
schoolroom, and prepared their lessons for the next day, while a master
occupied the desk to superintend and keep order. As other boys who were
in the same form with himself were doing no work, Walter did not suppose
that any work would be expected of him the next morning, and he
therefore occupied his time in writing a long letter home. When this
was over he began talking to Henderson, of whom he had a thousand
questions to ask, and whose chief amusement seemed to consist in
chaffing everybody, and whom, nevertheless, everybody seemed to regard
as a friend. At nine a bell rang, the whole school went to chapel,
where a short evening service was held, and then all but the higher
forms, and the boys who had separate rooms, went to bed. As Walter lay
down to sleep, he felt at least a century older than he had done that
morning. Everything was marvellously new to him, but on the whole he
was inclined to take a bright view of things. Two of the things which
had happened to him gave him special delight: the sight of the sea, and
the happy dawn--for as such he regarded it--of a genuine, hearty, boyish
friendship, both with Henderson and Kenrick. When the gas was turned
off, tired out with his journey and his excitement, he quickly fell
asleep.
And, falling asleep, he at once passed into the land of dreams. He was
out on the sea with Kenrick and Henderson in a row-boat, and all three
of them were fishing. First there was a pull at Henderson's line, and,
tugging it up, he caught not a fish, but Jones, who, after a few
flounderings, lay down in the fish-basket. As this did not in the least
surprise any of them, and excited no remark whatever, they set to work
again, and Kenrick had a bite this time, which proved to be Howard
Tracy, whom they laid quietly in the bottom of the boat, Jones
assisting. The third time Walter himself had a tug, and was in the act
of hauling up Dubbs, when he became conscious that the boat was rocking
very violently, and he felt rather surprised that he was not seasick.
This seemed to give a new current to his thoughts, for all of a sudden
he was out riding with someone, and his horse began to rear in the most
uncomfortable manner, right on his hind legs. He kept his seat
manfully--but no! that last rear was too much, and, suddenly waking, he
was at once aware that his bed was rising and falling in a series of
heavy shakes and bumps, whereby he was nearly flung off the mattress.
He instantly guessed the cause, for indeed, Kenrick had given him a hint
of such a possibility. He knew that someone, wishing to frighten him,
had got under the bed, and was heaving it up and down with his back.
All that he had noticed when he undressed was, that there were several
big fellows in the dormitory, and he knew that the room had rather a bad
reputation for disorder and bullying.
Being a strong little fellow, brave as a lion, and very active, Walter
was afraid of no one; so springing up during a momentary cessation of
the mysterious upheavals, he instantly made a dash under the bed, and
seized someone by the leg. The leg kicked violently, and as a leg is a
particularly strong limb, it succeeded in disengaging itself from
Walter's hands, not, however, till it had left a slipper as a trophy;
and with this slipper Walter pursued a dim white figure, which he could
just see scuttling away through the darkness to the other side of the
room. This figure he overtook just in time to give it some resounding
smacks with the sole of the slipper; when the figure clutched a
counterpane off the nearest bed, flung it over Walter, and made good an
escape, while Walter was entangled, Agamemnon-like, in the voluminous
folds. Walter, however, still kept possession of the slipper, and was
determined next morning to discover the owner. He knew that it was
probably some bigger fellow who had been playing this game, and his
common sense told him that it was best to take it good-humouredly as a
joke, and yet at the same time to make it as little pleasant as possible
for the perpetrator, even if he got thrashed himself. A bully or a
joker of practical jokes is not likely to do things which cause himself
a certain amount of discomfort, even if he succeeds in causing a still
greater amount to someone else.
Walter cared very little for this adventure. It certainly annoyed him a
little, and it showed him that some of the others in his dormitory must
be more or less brutes, if they could find it amusing to break the sleep
and play on the fears of a new boy the very night of his arrival among
them. But he thought no more about it, and was quite determined that it
should not happen often.
Far different was the case with poor little Arthur Eden, another new
boy, who, as Walter had observed, occupied the bed next to him. He had
been roused from his first sweet sleep in the same way, about the same
time as Walter. But no one had prepared him for this annoyance, and as
he was a very timid child, it filled him with terror; he was even so
terrified that he did not know what it was. He lay quite still, not
daring to speak, or make a sound, only clinging to his mattress with
both hands in an agony of dread. He was already worn and bewildered
with the events of the day. He had fallen amongst the Philistines; at
the very moment of his arrival he had got into bad hands, the hands of
boys who made sport of his weakness, corrupted his feelings, and
lacerated his heart. He was very young--a mere child of twelve--and in
the innocence of his simplicity he had unreservedly answered all their
questions, and prattled to them about his home, about his twin sister,
about nearly all his cherished secrets. In that short space of time he
had afforded materials enough for the coarse jeers of the brutal, and
the poignant ridicule of the cruel for many a long day. Something of
this derision had begun already, and he had found no secret place to
hide his tears. That they would call him a milksop, a molly-coddle, and
all kinds of horrid names, he knew, and he had tried manfully to bear-up
under persecution. It was not until after many hot and silent drops had
relieved the fever of his overwrought brain, that sleep had come to him,
and now it was broken thus.
O parents and guardians--anxious, yet unwise class--why, tell me why,
knowing all that you must know, do you send such children as this to
school? Eden's mother, indeed, had opposed the step, but his guardian
(for the boy's father was dead), seeing that he was being spoilt at
home, and that he was naturally a shrinking and timid lad, had urged
that he should be sent to Saint Winifred's, with some vague notion of
making a man of him. He might as well have thrown a piece of Brussels
lace into the fire with the intention of changing it into open
iron-work. The proper place for little Eden would have been some
country parsonage, where care and kindliness might have gradually helped
him, as he grew older, to acquire the faculties which he had not;
whereas, in this case, a public school only impaired for a time in that
tender frame the bright yet delicate qualities which he had.
The big, clumsy ne'er-do-well of a boy, Cradock by name, who was choking
with secret laughter as he tilted little Eden's bed--leaving a pause of
frightful suspense now and then to let him recover breath and realise
his situation--was as raw and ill-trained a fellow as you like, but he
had nothing in him wilfully or diabolically wicked. If he had been
similarly treated he would have broken into a great guffaw, and emptied
his water-jug over the intruder; and yet if he could have seen the new
boy at that moment, he would have seen that pretty little face--only
meant as yet for the smiles of childhood--white with an almost idiotic
terror, and he would have caught a staring and meaningless look in the
glassy eyes which were naturally so bright and blue. But he really did
not know--being merely an overgrown stupid fellow--the mischief he was
doing, and the absolute horrible torment that his jest (?) was
inflicting.
Finding that his joltings produced no apparent effect, and thinking that
Eden might, by some strange somnolence peculiar to new boys, sleep
through it all, he tilted the bed a little too high, and then indeed a
wild shriek rang through the room as the mattress and clothes tumbled
right over at the foot of the bed, and flung the child violently on the
floor. Fortunately the heap of bed-clothes prevented him from being
much hurt, and Cradock had just time to pick him up and huddle him into
bed again, and jump back into his own bed, when the lamp of one of the
masters, who had been attracted by Eden's cry, appeared through the
door. The master, finding all quiet, and having come from a distant
room, supposed that his ears had deceived him, or that the cry was some
accidental noise outside the building. He merely walked round the room,
and seeing Eden's bed-clothes rather tumbled, kindly helped the
trembling child to replace them in a more comfortable order, and left
the room.
"I say, that's quite enough for one night," said the voice of one of the
boys, when the master had disappeared. "You new fellows can go to
sleep. Nobody'll touch you again to-night." The speaker was Franklin,
rather a scapegrace in some respects, but a boy of no unkindly nature.
The light and the noise had revealed to Walter something of what must
have taken place. In his own case, he cared very little for the
assurance that he would not be molested again that night, feeling quite
sure that he could hold his own against anyone, and that his former
enemy, at any rate, would not be likely to assault him again. But he
was very, very glad for poor little Eden's sake, having caught a
momentary glimpse of his scared and pitiable look.
Walter could not sleep for a long time, not till long after he heard
from the regular breathings of the others that they were all in deep
slumber. For there were sounds which came from Eden's bed which
disturbed his heart with pity. His feelings bled for the poor little
fellow, so young and fresh from home, a newcomer like himself, but
evidently so little accustomed to this roughness and so little able to
protect his own interests. For a long time into the night he heard the
poor child crying and sobbing to himself, though he was clearly trying
to stifle the sound. At last Walter could stand it no longer, and
feeling sure that the rest were sound asleep, he whispered in his
kindest tone, for he didn't know his neighbour's name--
"I say, you little new fellow."
The sound of sobbing was hushed for a moment, but the boy seemed afraid
to answer; so Walter said again--"Are you awake?"
"Yes," said a weak, childish voice.
"Don't be afraid; I'm a new fellow, too. Tell me your name."
"Eden," he whispered tremulously, though reassured by the kindly tone of
voice. "Hush! hush! you'll awake someone."
"No, I won't," said Walter. "Here, I'll come and speak to you;" and
stepping noiselessly out of bed, he whispered in Eden's ear, "Never
mind, my poor little fellow; don't be frightened; the boy didn't mean to
hurt you; he was only shoving your bed up and down for a joke. Someone
did the same to me, so I jumped up and licked him with a slipper."
"But I got so frightened. Oh, do you think they'll do it again
to-night?"
"No, certainly, not again to-night," said Walter; "they're all asleep;
and if anyone does it again another night, you must just slip out of bed
and not mind it. It doesn't hurt."
"Thank you," whispered Eden; "you're very kind, and nobody else has been
kind to me here. Will you tell me _your_ name?"
"My name's Walter Evson. Do you know, your voice and look remind me of
my little brother. There," he said, tucking him up in bed, "now
good-night, and go to sleep."
The little fellow pressed Walter's hand hard, said good-night, and soon
forgot his misery in a sleep of pure weariness. I do not think that he
would have slept at all that night, but for the comforting sense that he
had found, to lean upon, a stronger nature and a stronger character than
his own. Walter heard him breathing peacefully, and then he too fell
asleep, and neither woke nor dreamt (that he was aware of), until
half-past seven the next morning, when a servant roused the boys by
ringing a large hand-bell in their ears.