Printers
S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, U.S.A.
TO
HUGHES MASSIE
IN ALL FRIENDSHIP
------------------------------------------------------------------------
FROM THE ANGLE
OF SEVENTEEN
I
When the Doctor sent for me to his study, I hoped it was about the
fireworks, because I was head boy that term, and, in a great position
like that, there were advantages to make up for the anxiety. You bossed
the fireworks on the fifth of November and many other such-like things.
But the Doctor had nothing to say about fireworks. In fact, a critical
moment had come in my life: I was to leave.
“Sit down, Corkey,” said the Doctor; and that in itself was a startler,
because he never asked anybody to sit down except parents or guardians.
I sat and he looked at me with a friendly and regretful expression, the
same as he did when he had to tell me my father was dead.
“Corkey,” he began, “this morning brings a missive from your maternal
aunt, Miss Augusta Medwin. As you know, she is your trustee until you
come of age, four years hence. Your Aunt Augusta, mindful that the time
was at hand when you would be called to take your place in the ranks of
action, has for some time been on the lookout for you; and to-day I
learn that her efforts have been crowned with success. It is my custom
to require a term’s notice; but such is my regard for your Aunt Augusta
that I have decided to waive that rule in your case. A clerkship in
London has been secured for you—a nomination to the staff of that famous
institution, the Apollo Fire Office. The necessary examination, to one
who has risen to be head boy of Merivale, should prove but a trifle. And
yet, since nothing can be left to chance, we must see that you are
guarded at all points. In a fortnight, Corkey Major, you will be
required to show that your mathematics are sound, your knowledge of
grammatical construction above suspicion, and your general average of
intellectual attainment all that the world of business—the great
industrial centers of finance—have a right to demand from their
neophytes. I do not fear for you: the appointment and its requirements
are not such as to demand a standard of accomplishment beyond your
powers; but, at the same time, remember that this modest beginning may
lead the way to name and fame. The first step can never be too humble if
we look upward to the next. I, myself, as all the world knows, was once
engaged in the avocation of a bookseller’s assistant. I have already
conferred with Mr. Brown as to your mathematical attainments, and,
making due allowance for his generous ardour to all that pertains to the
First Form, I have no doubt with him that you will satisfy your
examiners. Your handwriting, however, must be the subject of anxious
thought, and, as you will be called upon in the course of the
examination to write a brief essay on any subject that may occur to the
examining authorities, I trust that you will be at pains to state your
views in careful caligraphy. Again, if a word arises to your mind
concerning the spelling of which you feel doubtful, discard it at once
and strive to find another that will meet the case. Spelling, I have
reason to know, is not a strong point with you.”
The Doctor sighed and continued.
“I am sorry to lose you,” he said. “You have been a reasonably good and
industrious boy. Your faults were those of youth. You go into the world
armed, I think, at all points. Be modest, patient, and good-tempered;
and choose high-minded friends. I may add, for your encouragement, that
you will receive emolument from the outset of your official labours. The
salary is fifty pounds a year, and you will work daily from ten o’clock
until four. On Saturdays they pursue our own scholastic custom and give
their officials a half-holiday. Your vacation, however, is of a trivial
character. The world is a task-master, not a schoolmaster. One fortnight
a year will be all the holiday permitted; and since you enter the
establishment at the bottom, you must be prepared to enjoy this
relaxation at any month in the year most convenient to your superiors.
Should time and chance allow of it, Corkey Major, I may tell you that it
will give me personal pleasure to see you on some occasion of this
annual vacation—as a guest. Your two brothers continue with us until in
their turn they pass out into the world from the little haven of
Merivale.”
The idea of Merivale as a haven pleased the Doctor. I hoped he had
finished, but he went off again.
“Yes, the simile is just. You come here empty and depart on your voyage
laden. You are loaded according to your accommodation--some more, some
less; and I, the harbour-master—however, we will not push the image,
for, to be frank, I am not sure as to what exactly pertains to a
harbour-master’s duties in respect of cargo. To return, Mr. Brown will
see you in his study after morning school with a view to some special
lessons in arithmetic. He inclines to the opinion that the Rule of Three
should prove a tower of strength, and no doubt he is right. You may go.”
He waved his hand and I got up. One thing had stuck exceedingly fast in
my mind and now, though I did not mean to mention it in particular, it
came out.
“Am I really worth fifty pounds a year to anybody, sir?”
The Doctor smiled.
“A natural question, Corkey, and I think no worse of you for having
asked it. The magnitude of the sum may reasonably puzzle a lad who as
yet cannot appreciate the value of money. This, however, is no time to
enter upon the complicated question of supply and demand. It will be
sufficient for you to know that the Managers of the Apollo Fire Office
are in reasonable hopes of getting their money’s worth—to speak
colloquially. For my part, when I think upon your ten years of steady
work at Merivale, I have no hesitation in saying the salary is not
extravagant. Let it be your part to administer it with prudence and
swiftly to convince those set in authority over you that you are worth
more than that annual sum rather than less.”
I cleared out and told the chaps, and they were all fearfully
interested, especially Morgan, because when I left Morgan would become
the head of the school. He turned a sort of dirty-drab green when he
heard that I was going; and first I thought it was sorrow for me, and
then I found it was funk for himself. He didn’t care a button about
losing me; but he felt that to be lifted up all of a sudden to the top
was almost too much.
“I feel like the Pope felt when he found he was going to be elected,” he
said. “Only it’s far worse for me than him, because he needn’t have
entered the competition for Pope, I suppose, if he didn’t want; but, in
my case, the thing is a sort of law of nature, and I’ve got to be head
boy.”
“There are the advantages,” I said. But he could only see the
responsibilities. He wasn’t pretending: he really hated the idea—for the
moment.
I told my chum, Frost, too; and I told him that I’d asked the Doctor
whether I was worth fifty pounds a year to anybody.
“If he’d been straight,” said Frost, “he’d have told you that you’ve
been worth fifty pounds a year to him, anyway—for countless years;
because you came here almost as soon as you were born, and your
brothers, too.”
It was a great upheaval, like things always seem to be when they happen,
however much you expect them. Of course I knew I had to go sometime, and
was thankful to think so, and full of ambitions for grown-up life; but
now that the moment had actually come, I wasn’t particularly keen about
it. Especially as I should miss the fireworks and lose the various
prizes I was a snip for, if I’d stopped till Christmas. I rather wished
my Aunt Augusta hadn’t been so busy, and had left my career alone, at
any rate until after the Christmas holidays.
Of course my going was a godsend to various other chaps and, though they
regretted it in a way, especially the footer eleven, such a lot of
things were always happening from day to day at Merivale that there was
no time really to mourn. One or two wanted to club up and give me a
present, but it didn’t come to reality; though of course they were
frightfully sorry I was going, when they had time to think about it.
They were, naturally, very keen over the various things that I left
behind; but of course these were all handed over to my brothers.
Then the rather solemn moment came when a cab arrived for me and I went.
But everybody was in class at the time and nobody missed me. In fact, it
wasn’t what you might call really solemn to anybody but myself.