"What's your name?"
"Eric--I mean Williams."
"Then why don't you say what you mean?" Eric moved his foot impatiently
at this ungracious reception; but as he seemed to have no redress, he
pulled the Caesar nearer towards him.
"Drop that; 'tisn't yours."
Mr Gordon heard a whisper, and glanced that way. "Silence!" he said,
and Barker pretended to be deep in his work, while Eric, resigning
himself to his fate, looked about him.
He had plenty to occupy his attention in the faces round him. He
furtively examined Mr Gordon, as he bent over his high desk, writing,
but couldn't make out the physiognomy. There had been something
reserved and imperious in the master's manner, yet he thought he should
not dislike him on the whole. With the countenances of his future
school-fellows he was not altogether pleased, but there were one or two
which thoroughly attracted him. One boy, whose side face was turned
towards him as he sat on the bench in front, took his fancy
particularly, so, tired of doing nothing, he plucked up courage, and
leaning forward, whispered, "Do lend me your Caesar for a few minutes."
The boy at once handed it to him with a pleasant smile, and as the
lesson was marked, Eric had time to hurry over a few sentences, when Mr
Gordon's sonorous voice exclaimed--
"Fourth-form, come up!"
Some twenty of the boys went up, and stood in a large semicircle round
the desk. Eric of course was placed last, and the lesson commenced.
"Russell, begin," said the master; and immediately the boy who had
handed Eric his Caesar began reading a few sentences, and construed them
very creditably, only losing a place or two. He had a frank open face,
bright intelligent fearless eyes, and a very taking voice and manner.
Eric listened admiringly, and felt sure he should like him.
Barker was put on next. He bungled through the Latin in a grating,
irresolute sort of way, with several false quantities, for each of which
the next boy took him up. Then he began to construe;--a frightful
confusion of nominatives without verbs, accusatives translated as
ablatives, and adverbs turned into prepositions, ensued, and after a
hopeless flounder, during which Mr Gordon left him entirely to himself,
Barker came to a full stop; his catastrophe was so ludicrous, that Eric
could not help joining in the general titter. Barker scowled.
"As usual, Barker," said the master, with a curl of the lip. "Hold out
your hand!"
Barker did so, looking sullen defiance, and the cane immediately
descended on his open palm. Six similar cuts followed, during which the
form looked on, not without terror; and Barker, squeezing his hands
tight together, went back to his seat.
"Williams, translate the piece in which Barker has just failed."
Eric did as he was bid, and got through it pretty well. He had now
quite recovered his ordinary bearing, and spoke out clearly and without
nervousness. He afterwards won several places by answering questions,
and at the end of the lesson was marked about half-way up the form. The
boys' numbers were then taken down in the weekly register, and they went
back to their seats.
On his desk Eric found a torn bit of paper, on which was clumsily
scrawled, "I'll teach you to grin when I'm turned, you young brute."
The paper seemed to fascinate his eyes. He stared at it fixedly, and
augured ominously of Barker's intentions, since that worthy obviously
alluded to his having smiled in form, and chose to interpret it as an
intentional provocation. He felt that he was in for it, and that Barker
meant to pick a quarrel with him. This puzzled and annoyed him, and he
felt very sad to have found an enemy already.
While he was looking at the paper the great school-clock struck twelve;
and the captain of the form getting up, threw open the folding doors of
the schoolroom.
"You may go," said Mr Gordon; and leaving his seat, disappeared by a
door at the farther end of the room.
Instantly there was a rush for caps, and the boys poured out in a
confused and noisy stream, while at the same moment the other
schoolrooms disgorged their inmates. Eric naturally went out among the
last; but just as he was going to take his cap, Barker seized it, and
flung it with a whoop to the end of the passage, where it was trampled
on by a number of the boys as they ran out.
Eric, gulping down his fury with a great effort, turned to his opponent,
and said coolly, "Is that what you always do to new fellows?"
"Yes, you bumptious young owl, it is, and that too;" and a tolerably
smart slap on the face followed--leaving a red mark on a cheek already
aflame with anger and indignation,--"should you like a little more?"
He was hurt and offended, but was too proud to cry. "What's that for?"
he said, with flashing eyes.
"For your conceit in laughing at me when I was caned."
Eric stamped. "I did nothing of the kind, and you know it as well as I
do."
"What? I'm a liar, am I? Oh, we shall take this kind of thing out of
you, you young cub; take that;" and a heavier blow followed.
"You brutal cowardly bully," shouted Eric; and in another moment he
would have sprung upon him. It was lucky for him that he did not, for
Barker was three years older than he, and very powerful. Such an attack
would have been most unfortunate for him in every way. But at this
instant some boys hearing the quarrel ran up, and Russell among them.
"Hallo, Barker," said one; "what's up?"
"Why, I'm teaching this new fry to be less bumptious, that's all."
"Shame!" said Russell, as he saw the mark on Eric's cheek; "what a
fellow you are, Barker. Why couldn't you let him alone for the first
day at any rate?"
"What's that to you? I'll kick you too if you say much."
"Cave! cave!" whispered half a dozen voices, and instantly the knot of
boys dispersed in every direction, as Mr Gordon was seen approaching.
He had caught a glimpse of the scene without understanding it, and
seeing the new boy's red and angry face, he only said, as he passed by,
"What, Williams! fighting already? Take care."
This was the cruellest cut of all. "So," thought Eric, "a nice
beginning! it seems both boys and masters are against me," and very
disconsolately he walked to pick up his cap.
The boys were all dispersed on the playground at different games, and as
he went home he was stopped perpetually, and had to answer the usual
questions, "What's your name? Are you a boarder or a day scholar? What
form are you in?" Eric expected all this, and it therefore did not
annoy him. Under any other circumstances, he would have answered
cheerfully and frankly enough; but now he felt miserable at his
morning's rencontre, and his answers were short and sheepish, his only
desire being to get away as soon as possible. It was an additional
vexation to feel sure that his manner did not make a favourable
impression.
Before he had got out of the playground, Russell ran up to him. "I'm
afraid you won't like this, or think much of us, Williams," he said.
"But never mind. It'll only last a day or two, and the fellows are not
so bad as they seem; except that Barker. I'm sorry you've come across
him, but it can't be helped."
It was the first kind word he had had since the morning, and after his
troubles kindness melted him. He felt half inclined to cry, and for a
few moments could say nothing in reply to Russell's soothing words. But
the boy's friendliness went far to comfort him, and at last, shaking
hands with him, he said--
"Do let me speak to you sometimes, while I am a new boy, Russell."
"Oh yes," said Russell, laughing, "as much as ever you like. And as
Barker hates me pretty much as he seems inclined to hate you, we are in
the same box. Good-bye."
So Eric left the field, and wandered home, like Calchas in the Iliad,
"sorrowful by the side of the sounding sea." Already the purple mantle
had fallen from his ideal of schoolboy life. He got home later than
they expected, and found his parents waiting for him. It was rather
disappointing to them to see his face so melancholy, when they expected
him to be full of animation and pleasure. Mrs Williams drew her own
conclusions from the red mark on his cheek, as well as the traces of
tears welling to his eyes; but, like a wise mother, she asked nothing,
and left the boy to tell his own story,--which in time he did, omitting
all the painful part, speaking enthusiastically of Russell, and only
admitting that he had been a little teased.