The Willoughby Captains - Reed Talbot Baines. Страница 15

“And what, sir?” demanded the doctor.

“And,” said Game, in rather a faltering voice, “we thought you would not be angry if we petitioned you about it.”

“Do you speak for yourself, Game,” said the doctor, “or for others?”

“For the monitors, sir; that is, for those who have signed that paper.”

The doctor folded up the petition and handed it back to Game without reading it.

“I am glad you have told me what it is all about,” said he, sternly, “in time to prevent my reading either the petition or the names attached. It does not do you credit as monitors, and I hope you will soon see the matter in the same light. I did not expect it of you, but I regret it less on your account than on account of the school, to whom you have set a bad example. You may go.”

The doctor spoke in tones of unwonted anger, not unmixed with scorn. He rarely “flared up,” but when he did it was always uncomfortable for those against whom his wrath was roused.

The deputation slunk off sheepishly, carrying their petition with them, and too glad to get out of the angry presence of the head master to think of anything else.

The doctor may have been right, and probably was right in thus summarily extinguishing the petition and the petitioners. But he had done it in a manner which was hardly calculated to smooth matters.

Indeed, when the deputation reported their bad success to the monitors who awaited them, the general feeling was far more one of anger at being snubbed than of repentance for having done a foolish thing.

“If Paddy had only taken the trouble to read the thing through,” said Ashley, “and honour us with one or two reasons for not doing what we asked, it wouldn’t have been so bad.”

“As it is he’s as good as told us to mind our own business and he’ll mind his,” said Tipper, little thinking how exactly he had described the case.

“If we’re not to be allowed to say a word about the management of the school,” said Game, “I don’t see what right he has to expect us to do his work for him, and keep order.”

“Oh, it won’t do to resign or anything of that sort,” said Ashley. “That would be like funking it altogether.”

“He’ll soon find his mistake out, never fear,” said another. “He won’t listen to us, but he can’t help believing his own eyes.”

“Yes, it can’t go on for long,” said Tipper. “Riddell’s bound to show that he’s not up to his work sooner or later, and I won’t interfere to prevent it.”

“Meanwhile,” said Game, who of all the malcontents was the most honest, “what’s to become of Willoughby? We must keep some sort of order, whoever is captain.”

“Why, whatever authority can we have when the most we can do is to report fellows to that milksop?” said Tipper.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Ashley, “if we’re compelled to call Riddell captain, there’s nothing to prevent us considering another fellow so.”

“What do you mean?” asked some one.

“He means,” said Game, “and it’s not half a bad idea, that if Bloomfield will help us to keep order, we can consider him captain whether he’s called so or not. If once the fellows know they’ll get reported to him, we shall have some sort of authority.”

“Of course,” said Bloomfield, who had not yet spoken, “I’ll do my best to keep order and all that; but as I’m not captain, it’s no use to pretend being it.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” said Ashley. “If you choose to work for the school after what has happened, all I can say is you deserve to be backed up, and I’ll back you up for one.”

“So will I,” said Wibberly.

Bloomfield could not resist flattery. As soon as it was represented to him that the hope of Willoughby centred in him, and that he was acting a beautiful and Christian part in still taking an interest in its welfare after the way he had been treated, he felt as if he really ought to meet his admirers half-way.

“Already a lot of the kids consider you as captain,” said Game. “Didn’t you hear a boatful of them cheering you yesterday?”

“Yes,” said Bloomfield, “I heard that.”

“Very well, they’re much more likely to keep order for you than for that other fellow. We’ll try it anyhow.”

“I know a lot of the schoolhouse monitors think just the same as we do,” said Tipper, “but they’re so precious jealous for their house. They’d sooner stick to Riddell than allow a Parrett’s fellow to be cock of the school.”

“A Parrett’s fellow is cock of the school all the same,” said Wibberly. “I wish the regatta was over. That will put things right.”

“Yes; when once Parrett’s boat is at the head of the river the schoolhouse won’t have much to crow for,” said Ashley.

“For all that,” replied Bloomfield, “they seem to be grinding a bit with the crew they have got.”

“Let them grind,” said Game, laughing. “I’d as soon back Welch’s boat as theirs. Fairbairn’s the only man that does any work, and he’s no form at all. Why don’t they put the new captain in the boat, I wonder?”

The bare idea was sufficient to set the company laughing, in the midst of which the assembly-dispersed.

“By the way,” said Game to Ashley, as they went into the “Big,” “to-night is the opening meeting of the School Parliament. I mean to propose Bloomfield for president; will you second it?”

“Rather,” said Ashley.

Chapter Seven

The New Captain enters on his Duties

The morning that witnessed the collapse of the famous Monitors’ Petition had not been idly spent by the new captain. He had made the worst possible preparation for his new duties by lying awake half the night, brooding over his difficulties and working himself into a state of nervous misery very unlike what one would expect of the captain of a great public school.

What worried him was not so much that he felt himself unpopular, or that he knew all Willoughby was in arms against him. That wasn’t cheerful, certainly, or precisely solacing to a fellow’s self-esteem; but it was not nearly so disheartening as the feeling that he himself was unequal to cope with the difficulties he would have to face. How could he cope with them? He had never succeeded yet in keeping Telson, his own fag, in order. How was he to expect to administer discipline to all the scapegraces of Willoughby? It would be bad enough, even if the monitors as a body were working with him, but when he was left almost single-handed, as seemed probable, what chance was there? Whatever would he do supposing a boy was reported to him for some offence, such as going out of bounds or—

By the way! And here a horrible thought flashed across his mind. He had been so flurried last night with one thing and another that he had hardly noticed a message sent him after call-over by the Register Clerk. But it occurred to him now that it was about some boys who had not answered to their names.

He got out of bed with a groan and searched the mantelpiece for the note. Ah! here it was:

“Co. Fr. p.m., Telson (S.H.), Bosher, King, Lawkins, Parson (P), Abs. Go Capt. 8? Sa. (Telson 2, Bosher 1, Parson 2.)”

After a great deal of puzzling and cogitation Riddell managed to translate this lucid document into ordinary English as follows:

“Call-Over, Friday evening, Telson (schoolhouse), Bosher, King, Lawkins, Parson (Parrett’s), absent. To go to the captain at half-past eight on Saturday. (Telson has already been absent twice this week, Bosher once, Parson twice.)” And with the discovery the unhappy captain found his worst fears realised.

Whatever would he do? It was now half-past five. In three hours they would be here. What would Wyndham have done? Caned them, no doubt. Riddell had no cane. Ruler? He might break one of their ringers, or they might resist; or worse still baffle him with some ingenious excuse which he would not know how to deal with.

He sat by his bed staring hopelessly at the paper and wishing himself anywhere but head of the school — and then as no new light appeared to dawn on the question, and as going back to bed would be a farce, he proceeded to dress.