Chapter Twenty Five.I thought of my little plan that night when I went to bed, and I had it in my mind when I woke next morning, and laughed over it merrily as I dressed.It was the merest trifle, but it amused me; and I have often thought since of what big things grow sometimes out of the merest trifles. School-days are often so monotonous that boys jump at little things for their entertainment, and as there was some good-humoured mischief in this which would do no one any harm, only create a laugh, in which Tom Mercer would no doubt join after he had got over the first feeling of vexation, I had no hesitation about putting it in force.I had to wait for my opportunity, and it came that afternoon, when most of the boys were together cricketing and playing rounders. I glanced round the field, and then slipped away unobserved, made my way round by the back, and crossed the open space toward the yard.It was absolutely necessary for me to meet no one, so as to avoid suspicion when Mercer found out what had been done, and I intended, as soon as I had executed my little plan, to slip back by the same way into the play-field, so as to be able to prove where I was on that afternoon.But, as a matter of course, just because I did not wish to meet any one, I must meet the cook just returning from the kitchen garden with a bundle of thyme in her hand.Everybody spoke of Cook as being disagreeable and ready to snap and snarl if she were asked for anything extra because a boy was sick; but they say, “Speak well of the bridge that carries you well over,” and I always found her the most kindly of women; and she nodded and smiled.“What boys you and Master Mercer are!” she said. “Why, you are always going and moping up in that loft instead of being in the fields at play.”She went on toward the house, and I stood hesitating about carrying out my plan.“She knows I’ve come,” I said, “and if there is a row, and questions asked, she may say that she saw me.”“Nonsense! she’ll never hear about it,” I said, and, running into the dark stable, I stopped short, for I fancied there was a sound overhead; but I heard no more, and, thinking it was fancy, I ran to the steps, climbed up, and was crossing the floor when I heard a faint rustling in a heap of straw at the far end, in the darkest corner of the loft.“Rats,” I said to myself, as I went on to the place where the big bin stood under a little window, passed it, and reached up to take the key from the beam upon which it was always laid, the simplicity of the hiding-place making it all the more secure.To my utter astonishment, the key was not there, but a second glance showed me that it was in the padlock.“Been up here and forgot to lock it,” I said to myself. “All the better for me. Some one else may have been up, and done it through his leaving the key there.”I laughed to myself as I took the padlock out and threw open the bin, with the intention of having what I called a game.This was to consist in my arranging the various stuffed creatures in as comical a way as I could; and my first thought was to take the rabbit, alter its position a little, and lay it upon an extemporised bed, with the doctor—the owl—holding one paw to feel its pulse, while all the other creatures looked on.“What shall be the matter with him?” I thought. Then directly— “I know: all his stuffing come out.”I seized the owl, and found that I could easily twist the wire down its leg, so that the claw would appear to be grasping the rabbit’s wrist, while the sage-looking bird stood on one leg; and, satisfied in this, I was about to arrange the jay and other birds, but thought I would do the rabbit first, and, taking it up, I thrust my hand in the orifice made in the skin when taking it off, and pulled out a good piece of tow, meaning to leave it hanging down. Then I thrust my hand in again, and drew it out in astonishment, for I had taken hold of something hard and flat and round. What it was I could not see; it was too much surrounded by the tow. Then I laughed.“Why, it’s a big leaden nicker!” I said to myself. “Why did he put that in? I know. There are holes in it to fix wire to, and—” I turned cold and queer the next instant, as I divided the soft tow, and stood staring down, with the light from the little window falling full upon that which I held in my hand. Then I felt puzzled and confused; but the next minute I uttered quite a sob, for light flashed into my brain: memories of what I had so often heard my chosen companion say, the envy he had displayed, and the way in which all at once Burr major’s watch had disappeared from his jacket in the cricket-field,—all came back with a force that seemed to cause a singing noise in my ears, for here before me was the end of it all,—the explanation of the disappearance of the watch, which was now lying in my hand, with the hands close together and pointing to twelve. At last uttering a sound that was almost a groan, I muttered,—“Oh, Tom, Tom, how could you do such a thing as this?”The feeling of confusion came back like a thick mist floating over me, and I turned the watch over in my hand two or three times, asking myself what I should do.Should I take it to Burr major, and say I had picked it up? Should I go and confide in Mr Hasnip? Should I go straight to Tom Mercer and accuse him of taking it?No, no, no: I felt that I could do none of these things, and in a dreary, slow, helpless way, I thrust the watch back in amongst the tow, rammed more in after it, and then stood, after laying the rabbit down, asking myself what I should do next, while a poignant sense of misery and wretchedness seemed to make my position unbearable.It all came back now: how, ever since Burr major had that watch, Mercer had been envious, and longed for it. Scarcely a day had passed that he had not said something about his longings; and now here it was plainly enough before me: he had gone on coveting that wretched toy till the desire had been too strong for him, and it had ended in my manly, quaint, good-tempered school-fellow descending to become a contemptible pickpocket and thief.The blood flushed up into my cheeks and made them burn, while my fists clenched hard, and I thought to myself that I had learned boxing for some purpose.“I can’t go and tell tales of him,” I said. “I can’t betray him, for it would disgrace him for ever. He would be expelled from the school, and, shamefaced and miserable, go home to his father and mother, who would be nearly broken-hearted. No. I can’t tell.”Then I felt that, painful as it would be to confess all, and speak against the boy I had grown to care for as if he had been my brother, I ought to go straight to the Doctor and tell him. It was my duty, and it might act beneficially for Tom Mercer. The severe punishment might be such a lesson to him that it would check what otherwise might prove to be a downward course. If I were silent, he might do such a thing again, as this had been so easy; and get worse and worse. I must—I ought to tell, I said to myself; and then, as I dropped on my knees by the old bin, and rested my head on the edge, the hot tears came to my eyes, and my misery seemed greater than I could bear, for I felt it as bitterly as if I myself had been led into this disgraceful crime.I rose again with a clearer view of what I should do under the circumstances, for I had been having a terrible fight with bewildering thoughts; now thinking I would lock up the bin and go away as if I had not found the watch, and do nothing but separate myself from my school-fellow, now going in the opposite direction, in which I felt quite determined.“That’s it,” I said to myself. “I shall break with Tom Mercer for ever, but I’ll tell him why. We’ve learned to box for something, and perhaps he’ll be best man. No, he won’t. I shall have right on my side, and as he is guilty he will feel cowardly. I will thrash him till he can hardly crawl, and then, when he is weak and miserable, I’ll tell him all I have found out, and make him go and put the watch back where Eely can find it, and then it will never be known who took it, and Mercer will not be expelled in disgrace as a common thief. Why, it would break his mother’s heart!”“Yes, that will be the way,” I thought, feeling clearer and more relieved now. “It shall be a secret, but I will punish him as severely as I can, and though we shall never be friends again, I’ll try hard to check him from going downward like that, and though he will hate me for what I have done, he will thank me some day when he has grown up to be a man.”I closed the lid of the bin and thrust the top of the padlock through the staple and locked it; withdrew the key, and had raised my hand mechanically to put it in its old hiding-place on the beam, but I altered my mind.“No,” I thought; “I’ll bring him up here, and give him the key then, and make him open the bin and take out the watch before I thrash him. It shall be a lesson for him from beginning to end. He must have some shame in him, and I want him to feel it, so that he can never forget it again.”I thrust the key into my pocket and went down into the yard. It was a glorious sunny afternoon when I went up into the loft, and the weather had not changed; but everything seemed to be overclouded and wretched now, as I started off for the play-field, determined to waste no time, but take the culprit to task at once.I looked about, and could see Burr major, but Mercer was not there, and I crossed to where I could see little Wilson, and asked if he had seen him.“Senna!” he cried; “yes, I saw him a little while ago. Perhaps he’s by the gardens, digging up grubs and things to make physic.”I could not smile then, but went to the gardens. He was not there, and, thinking he might have gone up to our room, I went into the house, and up to the dormitories; but my journey was vain, and I went down again, and once more sought the field, to look all over at the little parties playing cricket, dotted here and there, but no Mercer. To my great surprise, though, I saw Dicksee talking earnestly to Burr major.“They’ve made it up,” I thought, and it seemed to me very contemptible and small of Burr major to take up again with a boy who had behaved so despicably to him.I passed pretty near them as I went on across the field, and they both looked at me rather curiously—in a way, in fact, which made me think that they were plotting something against me. Perhaps a fresh fight.“Well, I don’t mind now,” I said to myself. “Nothing seems of any consequence but Tom Mercer’s act. Where can he be?”I had another look round, and then saw that Burr major, Hodson, and Dicksee had gone up to the house together, and directly after they disappeared, while I went on again, asking after Mercer, to find that every one nearly had seen him only a little while before, but they could not tell me where he was gone.I kept on looking about, though I half suspected that he must have gone off on some little expedition of his own, as it was half holiday; and, at the end of another half-hour, I was about to stand near the gate, to watch for his return, when I caught sight of him, apparently coming from the direction of the yard, as if he had been to the loft.“Oh, here you are then!” he cried, as, after catching sight of me, he ran to meet me, and began vehemently. “I’ve been hunting everywhere for you.”“I have been hunting everywhere for you,” I said coldly.“Have you? Well, look here, Frank, I was up in the loft last night, and I forgot to lock up the bin.”It was just as I thought.“I forgot it once or twice before, thinking about something else; and now some one has been and locked it up, and taken the key away.”“Indeed?” I said coldly.“Yes. Don’t look at a fellow that way. I didn’t say you’d taken it, because, of course, if you had, you would have put it up on the beam. I say, who could it have been?”“Ah! who could it have been?” I said.“What’s the matter with you? How queer you are! I tell you, I don’t think it was you, but old fatty Dicksee; I’ve seen him sneaking about the yard a good deal lately, watching me, and he must have found out where we kept the key, and he has nailed it for some lark, or to tease me. Yes, that’s it. You see if, next time we go, we don’t find a dead dog, or a dead cat, or something nasty, tucked in the bin. Some of ’em served me that way before, when Bob Hopley’s old donkey died, and they put in its head. What shall we do?”“Nothing,” I said. “I have the key.”“You have? Oh, I am glad!”“I went up and found the key there, so I locked it and put it in my pocket.”“Why didn’t you put it in the old place, and not give me all this fright?”“You know,” I said solemnly.“I—er—er—know—er—er—” he drawled tragically. “Dear me, how grand we are!” he added, with a forced laugh. “No, I don’t know.”“Then come up there with me, and I’ll show you,” I said fiercely.“Oh, sir—no, sir—please, sir—don’t, sir—I, sir— Oh, sir—I won’t do so any more, sir. Don’t take me up there, sir, and punch my head, sir.”“Don’t play the fool, but come along with me.”“Why, Frank, old chap, you aren’t serious, are you? What’s the matter?”“Come up into the loft and see,” I replied, as sternly as I could, but feeling so miserable that I could hardly keep my voice from quivering.“Oh, all right! I’m ready,” he said rather stiffly now. “I’ve done nothing to offend you that I know of. Come on.”We moved toward the yard, but before we reached the gateway, without speaking now, our names were shouted, and, stopping and looking round, I saw Mr Hasnip and Mr Rebble coming after us, the former beckoning.We turned and walked toward him, with a cold sensation of dread running through me; for what I knew made me shiver with dread, lest the real cause of the disappearance of the watch should have been discovered; and I remembered now about my headache on the cricket match day, and how Mercer had hung about near me, going and coming between me and the tent.The next moment we were facing the two masters, and Mr Rebble spoke, looking at me very severely.“Burr junior,” he said, “the Doctor wishes to see you in his room directly.”I felt as if I had turned white, and I saw Mr Hasnip looking at me in a horrified way, as Mr Rebble continued:“And, Mercer, you are to come as well.”“Poor Tom!” I thought, as my hot anger against him died away. “It is all found out. What will we do? I shall have to tell the whole truth.”
I thought of my little plan that night when I went to bed, and I had it in my mind when I woke next morning, and laughed over it merrily as I dressed.
It was the merest trifle, but it amused me; and I have often thought since of what big things grow sometimes out of the merest trifles. School-days are often so monotonous that boys jump at little things for their entertainment, and as there was some good-humoured mischief in this which would do no one any harm, only create a laugh, in which Tom Mercer would no doubt join after he had got over the first feeling of vexation, I had no hesitation about putting it in force.
I had to wait for my opportunity, and it came that afternoon, when most of the boys were together cricketing and playing rounders. I glanced round the field, and then slipped away unobserved, made my way round by the back, and crossed the open space toward the yard.
It was absolutely necessary for me to meet no one, so as to avoid suspicion when Mercer found out what had been done, and I intended, as soon as I had executed my little plan, to slip back by the same way into the play-field, so as to be able to prove where I was on that afternoon.
But, as a matter of course, just because I did not wish to meet any one, I must meet the cook just returning from the kitchen garden with a bundle of thyme in her hand.
Everybody spoke of Cook as being disagreeable and ready to snap and snarl if she were asked for anything extra because a boy was sick; but they say, “Speak well of the bridge that carries you well over,” and I always found her the most kindly of women; and she nodded and smiled.
“What boys you and Master Mercer are!” she said. “Why, you are always going and moping up in that loft instead of being in the fields at play.”
She went on toward the house, and I stood hesitating about carrying out my plan.
“She knows I’ve come,” I said, “and if there is a row, and questions asked, she may say that she saw me.”
“Nonsense! she’ll never hear about it,” I said, and, running into the dark stable, I stopped short, for I fancied there was a sound overhead; but I heard no more, and, thinking it was fancy, I ran to the steps, climbed up, and was crossing the floor when I heard a faint rustling in a heap of straw at the far end, in the darkest corner of the loft.
“Rats,” I said to myself, as I went on to the place where the big bin stood under a little window, passed it, and reached up to take the key from the beam upon which it was always laid, the simplicity of the hiding-place making it all the more secure.
To my utter astonishment, the key was not there, but a second glance showed me that it was in the padlock.
“Been up here and forgot to lock it,” I said to myself. “All the better for me. Some one else may have been up, and done it through his leaving the key there.”
I laughed to myself as I took the padlock out and threw open the bin, with the intention of having what I called a game.
This was to consist in my arranging the various stuffed creatures in as comical a way as I could; and my first thought was to take the rabbit, alter its position a little, and lay it upon an extemporised bed, with the doctor—the owl—holding one paw to feel its pulse, while all the other creatures looked on.
“What shall be the matter with him?” I thought. Then directly— “I know: all his stuffing come out.”
I seized the owl, and found that I could easily twist the wire down its leg, so that the claw would appear to be grasping the rabbit’s wrist, while the sage-looking bird stood on one leg; and, satisfied in this, I was about to arrange the jay and other birds, but thought I would do the rabbit first, and, taking it up, I thrust my hand in the orifice made in the skin when taking it off, and pulled out a good piece of tow, meaning to leave it hanging down. Then I thrust my hand in again, and drew it out in astonishment, for I had taken hold of something hard and flat and round. What it was I could not see; it was too much surrounded by the tow. Then I laughed.
“Why, it’s a big leaden nicker!” I said to myself. “Why did he put that in? I know. There are holes in it to fix wire to, and—” I turned cold and queer the next instant, as I divided the soft tow, and stood staring down, with the light from the little window falling full upon that which I held in my hand. Then I felt puzzled and confused; but the next minute I uttered quite a sob, for light flashed into my brain: memories of what I had so often heard my chosen companion say, the envy he had displayed, and the way in which all at once Burr major’s watch had disappeared from his jacket in the cricket-field,—all came back with a force that seemed to cause a singing noise in my ears, for here before me was the end of it all,—the explanation of the disappearance of the watch, which was now lying in my hand, with the hands close together and pointing to twelve. At last uttering a sound that was almost a groan, I muttered,—
“Oh, Tom, Tom, how could you do such a thing as this?”
The feeling of confusion came back like a thick mist floating over me, and I turned the watch over in my hand two or three times, asking myself what I should do.
Should I take it to Burr major, and say I had picked it up? Should I go and confide in Mr Hasnip? Should I go straight to Tom Mercer and accuse him of taking it?
No, no, no: I felt that I could do none of these things, and in a dreary, slow, helpless way, I thrust the watch back in amongst the tow, rammed more in after it, and then stood, after laying the rabbit down, asking myself what I should do next, while a poignant sense of misery and wretchedness seemed to make my position unbearable.
It all came back now: how, ever since Burr major had that watch, Mercer had been envious, and longed for it. Scarcely a day had passed that he had not said something about his longings; and now here it was plainly enough before me: he had gone on coveting that wretched toy till the desire had been too strong for him, and it had ended in my manly, quaint, good-tempered school-fellow descending to become a contemptible pickpocket and thief.
The blood flushed up into my cheeks and made them burn, while my fists clenched hard, and I thought to myself that I had learned boxing for some purpose.
“I can’t go and tell tales of him,” I said. “I can’t betray him, for it would disgrace him for ever. He would be expelled from the school, and, shamefaced and miserable, go home to his father and mother, who would be nearly broken-hearted. No. I can’t tell.”
Then I felt that, painful as it would be to confess all, and speak against the boy I had grown to care for as if he had been my brother, I ought to go straight to the Doctor and tell him. It was my duty, and it might act beneficially for Tom Mercer. The severe punishment might be such a lesson to him that it would check what otherwise might prove to be a downward course. If I were silent, he might do such a thing again, as this had been so easy; and get worse and worse. I must—I ought to tell, I said to myself; and then, as I dropped on my knees by the old bin, and rested my head on the edge, the hot tears came to my eyes, and my misery seemed greater than I could bear, for I felt it as bitterly as if I myself had been led into this disgraceful crime.
I rose again with a clearer view of what I should do under the circumstances, for I had been having a terrible fight with bewildering thoughts; now thinking I would lock up the bin and go away as if I had not found the watch, and do nothing but separate myself from my school-fellow, now going in the opposite direction, in which I felt quite determined.
“That’s it,” I said to myself. “I shall break with Tom Mercer for ever, but I’ll tell him why. We’ve learned to box for something, and perhaps he’ll be best man. No, he won’t. I shall have right on my side, and as he is guilty he will feel cowardly. I will thrash him till he can hardly crawl, and then, when he is weak and miserable, I’ll tell him all I have found out, and make him go and put the watch back where Eely can find it, and then it will never be known who took it, and Mercer will not be expelled in disgrace as a common thief. Why, it would break his mother’s heart!”
“Yes, that will be the way,” I thought, feeling clearer and more relieved now. “It shall be a secret, but I will punish him as severely as I can, and though we shall never be friends again, I’ll try hard to check him from going downward like that, and though he will hate me for what I have done, he will thank me some day when he has grown up to be a man.”
I closed the lid of the bin and thrust the top of the padlock through the staple and locked it; withdrew the key, and had raised my hand mechanically to put it in its old hiding-place on the beam, but I altered my mind.
“No,” I thought; “I’ll bring him up here, and give him the key then, and make him open the bin and take out the watch before I thrash him. It shall be a lesson for him from beginning to end. He must have some shame in him, and I want him to feel it, so that he can never forget it again.”
I thrust the key into my pocket and went down into the yard. It was a glorious sunny afternoon when I went up into the loft, and the weather had not changed; but everything seemed to be overclouded and wretched now, as I started off for the play-field, determined to waste no time, but take the culprit to task at once.
I looked about, and could see Burr major, but Mercer was not there, and I crossed to where I could see little Wilson, and asked if he had seen him.
“Senna!” he cried; “yes, I saw him a little while ago. Perhaps he’s by the gardens, digging up grubs and things to make physic.”
I could not smile then, but went to the gardens. He was not there, and, thinking he might have gone up to our room, I went into the house, and up to the dormitories; but my journey was vain, and I went down again, and once more sought the field, to look all over at the little parties playing cricket, dotted here and there, but no Mercer. To my great surprise, though, I saw Dicksee talking earnestly to Burr major.
“They’ve made it up,” I thought, and it seemed to me very contemptible and small of Burr major to take up again with a boy who had behaved so despicably to him.
I passed pretty near them as I went on across the field, and they both looked at me rather curiously—in a way, in fact, which made me think that they were plotting something against me. Perhaps a fresh fight.
“Well, I don’t mind now,” I said to myself. “Nothing seems of any consequence but Tom Mercer’s act. Where can he be?”
I had another look round, and then saw that Burr major, Hodson, and Dicksee had gone up to the house together, and directly after they disappeared, while I went on again, asking after Mercer, to find that every one nearly had seen him only a little while before, but they could not tell me where he was gone.
I kept on looking about, though I half suspected that he must have gone off on some little expedition of his own, as it was half holiday; and, at the end of another half-hour, I was about to stand near the gate, to watch for his return, when I caught sight of him, apparently coming from the direction of the yard, as if he had been to the loft.
“Oh, here you are then!” he cried, as, after catching sight of me, he ran to meet me, and began vehemently. “I’ve been hunting everywhere for you.”
“I have been hunting everywhere for you,” I said coldly.
“Have you? Well, look here, Frank, I was up in the loft last night, and I forgot to lock up the bin.”
It was just as I thought.
“I forgot it once or twice before, thinking about something else; and now some one has been and locked it up, and taken the key away.”
“Indeed?” I said coldly.
“Yes. Don’t look at a fellow that way. I didn’t say you’d taken it, because, of course, if you had, you would have put it up on the beam. I say, who could it have been?”
“Ah! who could it have been?” I said.
“What’s the matter with you? How queer you are! I tell you, I don’t think it was you, but old fatty Dicksee; I’ve seen him sneaking about the yard a good deal lately, watching me, and he must have found out where we kept the key, and he has nailed it for some lark, or to tease me. Yes, that’s it. You see if, next time we go, we don’t find a dead dog, or a dead cat, or something nasty, tucked in the bin. Some of ’em served me that way before, when Bob Hopley’s old donkey died, and they put in its head. What shall we do?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I have the key.”
“You have? Oh, I am glad!”
“I went up and found the key there, so I locked it and put it in my pocket.”
“Why didn’t you put it in the old place, and not give me all this fright?”
“You know,” I said solemnly.
“I—er—er—know—er—er—” he drawled tragically. “Dear me, how grand we are!” he added, with a forced laugh. “No, I don’t know.”
“Then come up there with me, and I’ll show you,” I said fiercely.
“Oh, sir—no, sir—please, sir—don’t, sir—I, sir— Oh, sir—I won’t do so any more, sir. Don’t take me up there, sir, and punch my head, sir.”
“Don’t play the fool, but come along with me.”
“Why, Frank, old chap, you aren’t serious, are you? What’s the matter?”
“Come up into the loft and see,” I replied, as sternly as I could, but feeling so miserable that I could hardly keep my voice from quivering.
“Oh, all right! I’m ready,” he said rather stiffly now. “I’ve done nothing to offend you that I know of. Come on.”
We moved toward the yard, but before we reached the gateway, without speaking now, our names were shouted, and, stopping and looking round, I saw Mr Hasnip and Mr Rebble coming after us, the former beckoning.
We turned and walked toward him, with a cold sensation of dread running through me; for what I knew made me shiver with dread, lest the real cause of the disappearance of the watch should have been discovered; and I remembered now about my headache on the cricket match day, and how Mercer had hung about near me, going and coming between me and the tent.
The next moment we were facing the two masters, and Mr Rebble spoke, looking at me very severely.
“Burr junior,” he said, “the Doctor wishes to see you in his room directly.”
I felt as if I had turned white, and I saw Mr Hasnip looking at me in a horrified way, as Mr Rebble continued:
“And, Mercer, you are to come as well.”
“Poor Tom!” I thought, as my hot anger against him died away. “It is all found out. What will we do? I shall have to tell the whole truth.”
Chapter Twenty Six.Everything seemed to me as if we were in a dream, and I grew more and more troubled as we were marched in separately to the Doctor’s library, where to my astonishment I found Burr major and Dicksee standing, while the Doctor sat back in his big chair, with one hand over his eyes.I glanced once at Mercer, but he did not meet my eyes, and we took our places as pointed out by Mr Rebble, who then stood waiting, and at last coughed softly.“Yes, Mr Rebble,” said the Doctor huskily, as he dropped his hand, and I saw that there was a look of pain on his plump face that I had not seen before. “Yes, Mr Rebble, I see. I was trying to arrange my thoughts, so as to meet this painful case calmly. Pray sit down, Mr Rebble—Mr Hasnip.”The two ushers took chairs, and we boys alone remained standing, while the Doctor cleared his throat, and spoke in a way which drew me toward him as I had never felt drawn before, since, boy-like, I had been rather too apt to look upon my instructor as one of the enemies of my life.“Gentlemen,” he said, “I look upon what I have learned as a catastrophe to my school, a trouble more painful than I can express, but, for all our sakes, I hope that the dark cloud will prove to be a mist of error, which by calm investigation we shall be able to disperse, for, be it understood, I make no accusation.”Mr Rebble and Mr Hasnip both coughed, the Doctor sighed, glanced at me, and then went on.“Burr major, you have already told me that you had a presentation silver watch from your father.”I had been hoping that I was in error, and that we were called in for reproof about some trivial matter, but now my spirits sank.“Yes, sir.”“And that, on the day of the cricket match, you left that watch in your vest on the form at the back of the cricket tent?”“Yes, sir.”“That, when you returned to the tent, and resumed your garments, you afterwards found the watch gone?”“Yes, sir.”“That every search was made, and that, though, as you say, you had suspicions, about which we will talk by and by, that watch was never found?”“Yes, sir.”I glanced at Mercer, but he was staring hard at Burr major.“Now, Dicksee,” said the Doctor, “have the goodness to repeat what you told me a short time back.”“Yes, sir,” said Dicksee eagerly. “I went up into the big loft over the stable this afternoon, to see if I could find some nice stout pieces of straw in one of the old trusses to make jackstraws with, when I heard somebody coming.”I started as I remembered fancying I heard some one in the loft.“Yes; go on.”“I looked out of the window, and saw it was Burr junior, so I went and hid myself in the straw.”The rustling I thought was rats.“Why?” said the Doctor sharply.“Because Burr junior and Mercer are so jealous about any other boy going up there, and they would have knocked me about, as you know, sir, they did once before, for being up there.”“It isn’t true!” I cried.“Silence, sir,” said the Doctor. “You shall be heard afterwards. Go on, Dicksee.”“Yes, sir, please, sir. So I hid under the straw, and then I saw Burr junior come up into the loft, and look round, and out of the window, and everywhere but in the straw.”“State what you saw simply, sir,” said the Doctor sternly; “and recollect that you do not stand upon a very good pedestal, for you were playing one of the meanest parts a human being can take, that of a spy.”“Hear! hear!” said the two masters together.“Please, sir, I was afraid,” pleaded Dicksee.“Go on,” said the Doctor.“And I saw Burr junior open the big bin where he and Mercer keep their rubbish.”“It may not be rubbish to them,” said the Doctor, “Go on, sir.”“And after fiddling about a bit, and looking round to see if he was watched, Burr junior took up a stuffed rabbit, put his hand inside, and pulled out some tow, and then he opened that, and took out Burr major’s silver watch.”“How do you know it was?” said the Doctor sharply.“Because we saw it such lots of times, sir, and I knew it again directly.”“It might have been any watch,” said the Doctor. “Go on.”“Yes, sir. And he looked at it, and played with it ever so long, and then wrapped it up in tow again, and stuffed it inside the rabbit, and then locked up the bin, put the key in his pocket, and went down.”“And you?”“I waited till he had gone, sir, and then I ran and told Burr major, sir.”“That will do. Now, Burr major, add what you told me this afternoon; but bear in mind, sir, that it is your duty to be very careful, for this is a charge of theft—of a crime sufficient almost to ruin a school-fellow’s career.”Burr major spoke out quickly and eagerly, while I stood with my head down, feeling as if I were being involved in a tangle, out of which it seemed impossible to extricate myself.“On the day I lost my watch, sir, Burr junior and Mercer were a good deal about near the tent. Burr junior would not play, because he said he had a bad headache, and Tom Mercer wouldn’t play either.”“Well, sir?”“I am very sorry to say it, sir,” continued Burr major hesitatingly. “It’s a very painful charge to make, and I never said anything before to-day, but I always suspected Burr junior of taking the watch.”“Oh!” I ejaculated indignantly, as I faced round, but he did not meet my eye.“And, pray, why?” said the Doctor.“Because, please, sir, he seemed to be hanging about so near the tent.”I began to feel more confused, especially as the Doctor said then,—“Then now we will adjourn—to the loft.” I made a gesture as if to speak, but the Doctor raised his hand.“After a while, Burr,” he said, “after a while. Your turn will come.”I felt in a whirl of emotion, for I was half stunned at the turn matters had taken, and I tried again to catch Mercer’s eye, but he did not even glance at me, but stood opening and shutting his hands as he glared at Dicksee, who looked horribly alarmed, and as if he would like to run away.The Doctor signed to us to go, and we were taken through the house and servants’ offices, so as not to attract the attention of the boys, reaching the yard at last, and entering the stable.My ears seemed to have bells ringing in them as we stood there, and I heard the Doctor say,—“Rather an awkward place for me to get up, Mr Rebble; but I suppose I must try.”He made the effort after we had all gone before, and reached the top no worse off than by the addition of a little dust upon his glossy black coat. Then, clearing his voice, as we all stood near the bin, in much the same positions as in the library, he began,—“Ah, that is the straw, I suppose. Burr junior and Mercer have used this place a good deal, I believe, as a kind of atelier or workshop?”“Yes, sir,” said Burr major promptly.“Then that is the bin, is it, Dicksee?”“Yes, sir.”“And you say you saw Burr junior lock it up. Have you the key, Burr?”I stood gazing at him wildly without answering, and then I glanced at Mercer, who met my eye with a look of terror and misery that was piteous to see. For now it was all to come out, and the theft would be brought home to him, for the poor lad to be expelled in disgrace and go home despairingly to those who loved him, and all because he could not restrain that horrible feeling of covetousness.“I said, ‘Have you the key, Burr junior?’” continued the Doctor more sternly, and I shuddered as the thought struck me now that I was becoming mixed up with the trouble, that they would not believe me if I told the truth—that truth which would be so difficult to tell for Mercer’s sake.“Burr junior,” cried the Doctor very sharply now, “have you the key of that padlock?”“Yes; sir,” I faltered, giving quite a start now, as his words roused me as from a dream, and I felt horrified as I fully saw how guilty all this made me appear.“Take the key, Mr Rebble, if you please,” continued the Doctor, looking more and more pained, as I withdrew the rusty little instrument from my pocket. “Open the bin, please, and see if Dicksee’s statement is made out.”Mr Hasnip was, I found, looking at me, and I felt a choking sensation as he shook his head at me sadly.Then I glanced at Mercer, and found he was looking at me in a horrified way, and I let my eyes drop as I said to myself,—“Poor fellow! I shall not have to speak; he’ll confess it all. I wish I could save him.”And all the while the usher was unlocking the padlock, taking it from the staple, and throwing open the great lid back against the whitewashed wall, every click and grate of the iron and the creak of the old hinges sounding clear and loud amidst the painful silence.“Will you come and look, sir?” said Mr Rebble.“No,” said the Doctor sternly. “Is there a rabbit-skin there, as this boy described?”“Yes, sir.”“Take it out.”Mr Rebble obeyed, and once more I met Mercer’s eyes gazing at me wildly, and, as I interpreted the look, imploring me not to speak.The miserable stuffed distortion was brought out, and I felt half disposed to laugh at it, as I thought of my school-fellow’s queer ideas for a group in natural history. But that was only a flying thought, succeeded by a mental pang that was most keen, as the rabbit was laid on the floor, and, acting on the Doctor’s instructions, Mr Rebble went down on one knee, held the stuffed animal with one hand, and began to draw out the tow with the other.A great patch came out, and Mr Rebble pressed it together and then opened it out, and I fancied I heard the Doctor sigh with satisfaction at nothing being found.“It’s further in, sir,” cried Dicksee eagerly.“Ah! you seem to know a great deal about it, Dicksee,” said the Doctor.“Yes, sir; I saw him put it in.”Mr Rebble thrust in his hand again, and my spirits sank lower as he drew out another tuft of tow, compressed it, and then, frowning heavily, began to tear it open.“There is nothing there, then, Mr Rebble?” cried the Doctor eagerly.“I am sorry to say, sir, there is,” said the usher, as he laid open the tow till it was like a nest, with the little silver watch lying glistening in the middle; and the Doctor drew a long breath, his forehead now full of deeply-cut lines.“Burr major,” said the Doctor huskily. “Have the goodness to look at that watch. Is it yours?”My school-fellow stepped to the Doctor’s side and looked.“Yes, sir,” he said eagerly. “That’s the watch I lost.”“How do you know, sir?”“My father had my initials cut in the little round spot on the case, sir. There they are.”The Doctor took the watch, glanced at the letters, and laid it down.“Yes,” he said sadly, “that is quite right.—Mercer!” Tom started as if he had received a blow, and looked wildly from one to the other.“Come here.”“Oh, poor, poor Tom!” I sighed to myself, and I looked at him pityingly, while he glanced at me.“Hah!” ejaculated the Doctor; “there seems to be some understanding between you. Now, sir, that bin has been used by you for some time, has it not, for your collection?”“Yes, sir,” faltered Mercer.“You and Burr junior have, I noticed, always been companions.”“Yes, sir.”“He joined you in collecting natural history objects?”“Yes, sir; a little.”“Could he obtain access to that bin when he wished? Had he a key?”“He could always get the key, sir, when he liked.” The Doctor sighed, and there was silence once more, while I glanced at Mercer wildly, and if he could have read my eyes, he would have known that they said, “Speak out now. Confess, and ask the Doctor to forgive you for giving way to this terrible piece of covetousness.”“Now,” said the Doctor, and we both started at the firm, sonorous tones, “speak out frankly, sir. This is no time for trying to conceal the truth so as to screen your friend, for I tell you that it would be an unkind act, and you would be injuring his future by such a mistaken policy. Tell me, did you know that the watch was hidden there?”Mercer was silent.“Speak, sir,” cried the Doctor. “I insist!”“No, sir,” faltered Mercer, after another appealing look at me; and in my agony, as I heard his words, I started forward.“Burr junior!” roared the Doctor; and I stopped as if fascinated.“Now, Mercer,” he continued, “tell me. Did you know that your school-fellow had that watch in his possession?”“Oh no, sir!” cried Mercer eagerly. “I’m sure he hadn’t.”“Humph!” ejaculated the Doctor. “That will do.—I wish, gentlemen,” he continued, turning to the two masters, “to make this painful business as short as possible.”I turned to him quickly, and as I met his eyes, I thought at first that he was looking at me sadly and pityingly, but his face was very stern next moment.“You are sure, Thomas Mercer,” he said, “that you did not know the watch was in that bin—hidden away?”Tom looked at me again wildly, and then, with his brow all wrinkled up, he said in a hopeless tone full of sadness,—“No, sir—no, sir; I didn’t know it was there.”My hands clenched, and a burst of rage made me turn giddy for the moment. For I felt as if I could have dashed at him, dragged him to his knees, and made him speak the truth.But that passed off as quickly as it came, and a feeling of pity came for the boy who, in his horror of detection, had felt himself bound to save himself at another’s expense, and I found myself wondering whether under the circumstances I should not have done the same.These thoughts darted through my mind like lightning, and so did those which followed.“I want to save him,” I said to myself, in the midst of the painful silence during which the Doctor stood thinking and softly wiping his forehead and then the palms of his hands upon his white pocket handkerchief; “but I can’t take the credit of it all. It is too horrible. But if I tell all I know, he will be expelled, and it will ruin him. Oh, why don’t he confess?—why don’t he confess?”It was as if the Doctor had heard these last words as I thought them, for he said now in a deep, grave voice, as he turned to me, just as I was feeling that it would be too cruel to denounce my companion,—“This is a sad—a painful affair, Burr junior. I wanted to disbelieve in your guilt, I wanted to feel that there was no young gentleman in my establishment who could stoop to such a piece of base pilfering; but the truth is so circumstantially brought home through the despicable meanness of a boy of whose actions I feel the utmost abhorrence, that I am bound to say to you that there is nothing left but for you to own frankly that you have been led into temptation—to say that you bitterly repent of what you have done, and throw yourself upon my mercy. Do this at once, boy, for the sake of those at home who love you.”I felt my face twitch at these words and the picture they evoked, and then, numbed as it were, I stood listening, slightly buoyed up by the feeling that Mercer would speak directly and clear me.“You were entrusted to my care, Burr junior,” continued the Doctor, “as a youth who was in future to enter upon one of the most honourable of careers, that of a soldier; but now that you have disgraced yourself like this—”“No, no, sir!” I cried. “Don’t—pray don’t think I took the wretched watch!”There was so much passionate agony in my voice that the Doctor paused for a few moments, before, in the midst of the solemn silence which ensued, he said coldly,—“Do you deny that you took the watch?”“Yes, yes. Indeed, indeed I did not take it, sir!” The Doctor sighed.“Do you deny that you were seen by Dicksee this morning with the watch in your hands?”“No, sir; that is true,” I said, with a look at Mercer, who hung down his head.“Then I am bound by the statements that have been made, painful as it is to me, to consider that in a moment of weak impulse you did this base thing. If I am wrong, Heaven forgive me, forhumanum est errare. The truth, however, seems too clear.”“I—I found it there,” I panted.The Doctor shook his head.“It is like charging your school-fellow with stealing the watch. Do you do this?”I was silent.“Mr Rebble,” said the Doctor, “you came here as a gentleman to aid me in the training of these youths. Can you do anything to help me here?”“I—I,” said Mr Rebble huskily, “would gladly do so, sir, if I could. I wouldn’t trust Dicksee’s word in anything. He is as pitiful and contemptible a boy as ever came under my charge, but I am afraid he has spoken the truth here.”“I fear so,” said the Doctor. “Mr Hasnip, you have—been but a short time among us, still you have learned the disposition of the pupils. Can you help me—help us?—for it is terrible to me to have to pass judgment in such a case.”“Doctor Browne,” cried Mr Hasnip warmly, and I saw the tears start to his eyes, “I would give anything to be able to say it is all a mistake.”“But you feel that you can not?”Mr Hasnip shook his head, and turned away to hide the working of his face, while I stood wondering at the feeling he displayed.There was again a painful silence, and I stood there, shrinking, but with a hot feeling of anger swelling within me, waiting for Tom Mercer to speak out and save me from disgrace. And with this hot tide of bitterness and rage that I should be so doubted and suspected, came a feeling of obstinacy that was maddening, while something within me seemed to say, “They would not believe you if you spoke.”“No,” said the Doctor at last, “I am afraid that you cannot; and I now address myself to you, Burr junior. Do you confess that you are guilty?”“No, sir,” I cried angrily, “I am not!” and again there was silence.“I think I will give you time for reflection,” said the Doctor. “Mr Rebble, I place Burr junior in your charge. Of course he must be secluded. I, too, want time for reflection before sending word to the unhappy lad’s friends—a most painful task—a most painful task.”He walked slowly toward the steps, and a fresh feeling of excitement surged up within me. I wanted to speak now—to say something in my own defence, as I thought of the Doctor’s letter going to my mother, and of her agony, then of my uncle learning this, and coming over. It seemed too terrible, and I tried to call the Doctor back, but no words would come. I saw him descend slowly, and Mr Hasnip sign to the boys to follow, after which, giving me a sad look, he too descended, leaving me alone with Mr Rebble, whose first words were so stern and harsh that I could not turn to him and confide and ask his sympathy and help.“This way, sir,” he said sharply, and without a word I followed him down and across the stable-yard, passing cook at the door ready to give me a pitying glance for being in disgrace.Then, as if it was all a dream, I was led into the house, and up-stairs to a small room containing only one bed—a room whose window looked out away toward the General’s estates.The door was closed behind me without a word, and as I stood there I heard it locked and the key withdrawn, followed by Mr Rebble’s footsteps along the passage, and then I threw myself down on the bed in a passion of rage against Mercer.“You coward!” I cried, and as I ground my teeth I indulged in a wish that I could have him there.“Oh!” I cried, “only for half an hour, and then—” I did not finish my sentence, but bounded off the bed to stand up there alone, unconsciously enough in the position Lomax had taught me, and with my left hand raised to strike.
Everything seemed to me as if we were in a dream, and I grew more and more troubled as we were marched in separately to the Doctor’s library, where to my astonishment I found Burr major and Dicksee standing, while the Doctor sat back in his big chair, with one hand over his eyes.
I glanced once at Mercer, but he did not meet my eyes, and we took our places as pointed out by Mr Rebble, who then stood waiting, and at last coughed softly.
“Yes, Mr Rebble,” said the Doctor huskily, as he dropped his hand, and I saw that there was a look of pain on his plump face that I had not seen before. “Yes, Mr Rebble, I see. I was trying to arrange my thoughts, so as to meet this painful case calmly. Pray sit down, Mr Rebble—Mr Hasnip.”
The two ushers took chairs, and we boys alone remained standing, while the Doctor cleared his throat, and spoke in a way which drew me toward him as I had never felt drawn before, since, boy-like, I had been rather too apt to look upon my instructor as one of the enemies of my life.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I look upon what I have learned as a catastrophe to my school, a trouble more painful than I can express, but, for all our sakes, I hope that the dark cloud will prove to be a mist of error, which by calm investigation we shall be able to disperse, for, be it understood, I make no accusation.”
Mr Rebble and Mr Hasnip both coughed, the Doctor sighed, glanced at me, and then went on.
“Burr major, you have already told me that you had a presentation silver watch from your father.”
I had been hoping that I was in error, and that we were called in for reproof about some trivial matter, but now my spirits sank.
“Yes, sir.”
“And that, on the day of the cricket match, you left that watch in your vest on the form at the back of the cricket tent?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That, when you returned to the tent, and resumed your garments, you afterwards found the watch gone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That every search was made, and that, though, as you say, you had suspicions, about which we will talk by and by, that watch was never found?”
“Yes, sir.”
I glanced at Mercer, but he was staring hard at Burr major.
“Now, Dicksee,” said the Doctor, “have the goodness to repeat what you told me a short time back.”
“Yes, sir,” said Dicksee eagerly. “I went up into the big loft over the stable this afternoon, to see if I could find some nice stout pieces of straw in one of the old trusses to make jackstraws with, when I heard somebody coming.”
I started as I remembered fancying I heard some one in the loft.
“Yes; go on.”
“I looked out of the window, and saw it was Burr junior, so I went and hid myself in the straw.”
The rustling I thought was rats.
“Why?” said the Doctor sharply.
“Because Burr junior and Mercer are so jealous about any other boy going up there, and they would have knocked me about, as you know, sir, they did once before, for being up there.”
“It isn’t true!” I cried.
“Silence, sir,” said the Doctor. “You shall be heard afterwards. Go on, Dicksee.”
“Yes, sir, please, sir. So I hid under the straw, and then I saw Burr junior come up into the loft, and look round, and out of the window, and everywhere but in the straw.”
“State what you saw simply, sir,” said the Doctor sternly; “and recollect that you do not stand upon a very good pedestal, for you were playing one of the meanest parts a human being can take, that of a spy.”
“Hear! hear!” said the two masters together.
“Please, sir, I was afraid,” pleaded Dicksee.
“Go on,” said the Doctor.
“And I saw Burr junior open the big bin where he and Mercer keep their rubbish.”
“It may not be rubbish to them,” said the Doctor, “Go on, sir.”
“And after fiddling about a bit, and looking round to see if he was watched, Burr junior took up a stuffed rabbit, put his hand inside, and pulled out some tow, and then he opened that, and took out Burr major’s silver watch.”
“How do you know it was?” said the Doctor sharply.
“Because we saw it such lots of times, sir, and I knew it again directly.”
“It might have been any watch,” said the Doctor. “Go on.”
“Yes, sir. And he looked at it, and played with it ever so long, and then wrapped it up in tow again, and stuffed it inside the rabbit, and then locked up the bin, put the key in his pocket, and went down.”
“And you?”
“I waited till he had gone, sir, and then I ran and told Burr major, sir.”
“That will do. Now, Burr major, add what you told me this afternoon; but bear in mind, sir, that it is your duty to be very careful, for this is a charge of theft—of a crime sufficient almost to ruin a school-fellow’s career.”
Burr major spoke out quickly and eagerly, while I stood with my head down, feeling as if I were being involved in a tangle, out of which it seemed impossible to extricate myself.
“On the day I lost my watch, sir, Burr junior and Mercer were a good deal about near the tent. Burr junior would not play, because he said he had a bad headache, and Tom Mercer wouldn’t play either.”
“Well, sir?”
“I am very sorry to say it, sir,” continued Burr major hesitatingly. “It’s a very painful charge to make, and I never said anything before to-day, but I always suspected Burr junior of taking the watch.”
“Oh!” I ejaculated indignantly, as I faced round, but he did not meet my eye.
“And, pray, why?” said the Doctor.
“Because, please, sir, he seemed to be hanging about so near the tent.”
I began to feel more confused, especially as the Doctor said then,—
“Then now we will adjourn—to the loft.” I made a gesture as if to speak, but the Doctor raised his hand.
“After a while, Burr,” he said, “after a while. Your turn will come.”
I felt in a whirl of emotion, for I was half stunned at the turn matters had taken, and I tried again to catch Mercer’s eye, but he did not even glance at me, but stood opening and shutting his hands as he glared at Dicksee, who looked horribly alarmed, and as if he would like to run away.
The Doctor signed to us to go, and we were taken through the house and servants’ offices, so as not to attract the attention of the boys, reaching the yard at last, and entering the stable.
My ears seemed to have bells ringing in them as we stood there, and I heard the Doctor say,—
“Rather an awkward place for me to get up, Mr Rebble; but I suppose I must try.”
He made the effort after we had all gone before, and reached the top no worse off than by the addition of a little dust upon his glossy black coat. Then, clearing his voice, as we all stood near the bin, in much the same positions as in the library, he began,—
“Ah, that is the straw, I suppose. Burr junior and Mercer have used this place a good deal, I believe, as a kind of atelier or workshop?”
“Yes, sir,” said Burr major promptly.
“Then that is the bin, is it, Dicksee?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you say you saw Burr junior lock it up. Have you the key, Burr?”
I stood gazing at him wildly without answering, and then I glanced at Mercer, who met my eye with a look of terror and misery that was piteous to see. For now it was all to come out, and the theft would be brought home to him, for the poor lad to be expelled in disgrace and go home despairingly to those who loved him, and all because he could not restrain that horrible feeling of covetousness.
“I said, ‘Have you the key, Burr junior?’” continued the Doctor more sternly, and I shuddered as the thought struck me now that I was becoming mixed up with the trouble, that they would not believe me if I told the truth—that truth which would be so difficult to tell for Mercer’s sake.
“Burr junior,” cried the Doctor very sharply now, “have you the key of that padlock?”
“Yes; sir,” I faltered, giving quite a start now, as his words roused me as from a dream, and I felt horrified as I fully saw how guilty all this made me appear.
“Take the key, Mr Rebble, if you please,” continued the Doctor, looking more and more pained, as I withdrew the rusty little instrument from my pocket. “Open the bin, please, and see if Dicksee’s statement is made out.”
Mr Hasnip was, I found, looking at me, and I felt a choking sensation as he shook his head at me sadly.
Then I glanced at Mercer, and found he was looking at me in a horrified way, and I let my eyes drop as I said to myself,—
“Poor fellow! I shall not have to speak; he’ll confess it all. I wish I could save him.”
And all the while the usher was unlocking the padlock, taking it from the staple, and throwing open the great lid back against the whitewashed wall, every click and grate of the iron and the creak of the old hinges sounding clear and loud amidst the painful silence.
“Will you come and look, sir?” said Mr Rebble.
“No,” said the Doctor sternly. “Is there a rabbit-skin there, as this boy described?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take it out.”
Mr Rebble obeyed, and once more I met Mercer’s eyes gazing at me wildly, and, as I interpreted the look, imploring me not to speak.
The miserable stuffed distortion was brought out, and I felt half disposed to laugh at it, as I thought of my school-fellow’s queer ideas for a group in natural history. But that was only a flying thought, succeeded by a mental pang that was most keen, as the rabbit was laid on the floor, and, acting on the Doctor’s instructions, Mr Rebble went down on one knee, held the stuffed animal with one hand, and began to draw out the tow with the other.
A great patch came out, and Mr Rebble pressed it together and then opened it out, and I fancied I heard the Doctor sigh with satisfaction at nothing being found.
“It’s further in, sir,” cried Dicksee eagerly.
“Ah! you seem to know a great deal about it, Dicksee,” said the Doctor.
“Yes, sir; I saw him put it in.”
Mr Rebble thrust in his hand again, and my spirits sank lower as he drew out another tuft of tow, compressed it, and then, frowning heavily, began to tear it open.
“There is nothing there, then, Mr Rebble?” cried the Doctor eagerly.
“I am sorry to say, sir, there is,” said the usher, as he laid open the tow till it was like a nest, with the little silver watch lying glistening in the middle; and the Doctor drew a long breath, his forehead now full of deeply-cut lines.
“Burr major,” said the Doctor huskily. “Have the goodness to look at that watch. Is it yours?”
My school-fellow stepped to the Doctor’s side and looked.
“Yes, sir,” he said eagerly. “That’s the watch I lost.”
“How do you know, sir?”
“My father had my initials cut in the little round spot on the case, sir. There they are.”
The Doctor took the watch, glanced at the letters, and laid it down.
“Yes,” he said sadly, “that is quite right.—Mercer!” Tom started as if he had received a blow, and looked wildly from one to the other.
“Come here.”
“Oh, poor, poor Tom!” I sighed to myself, and I looked at him pityingly, while he glanced at me.
“Hah!” ejaculated the Doctor; “there seems to be some understanding between you. Now, sir, that bin has been used by you for some time, has it not, for your collection?”
“Yes, sir,” faltered Mercer.
“You and Burr junior have, I noticed, always been companions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He joined you in collecting natural history objects?”
“Yes, sir; a little.”
“Could he obtain access to that bin when he wished? Had he a key?”
“He could always get the key, sir, when he liked.” The Doctor sighed, and there was silence once more, while I glanced at Mercer wildly, and if he could have read my eyes, he would have known that they said, “Speak out now. Confess, and ask the Doctor to forgive you for giving way to this terrible piece of covetousness.”
“Now,” said the Doctor, and we both started at the firm, sonorous tones, “speak out frankly, sir. This is no time for trying to conceal the truth so as to screen your friend, for I tell you that it would be an unkind act, and you would be injuring his future by such a mistaken policy. Tell me, did you know that the watch was hidden there?”
Mercer was silent.
“Speak, sir,” cried the Doctor. “I insist!”
“No, sir,” faltered Mercer, after another appealing look at me; and in my agony, as I heard his words, I started forward.
“Burr junior!” roared the Doctor; and I stopped as if fascinated.
“Now, Mercer,” he continued, “tell me. Did you know that your school-fellow had that watch in his possession?”
“Oh no, sir!” cried Mercer eagerly. “I’m sure he hadn’t.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the Doctor. “That will do.—I wish, gentlemen,” he continued, turning to the two masters, “to make this painful business as short as possible.”
I turned to him quickly, and as I met his eyes, I thought at first that he was looking at me sadly and pityingly, but his face was very stern next moment.
“You are sure, Thomas Mercer,” he said, “that you did not know the watch was in that bin—hidden away?”
Tom looked at me again wildly, and then, with his brow all wrinkled up, he said in a hopeless tone full of sadness,—
“No, sir—no, sir; I didn’t know it was there.”
My hands clenched, and a burst of rage made me turn giddy for the moment. For I felt as if I could have dashed at him, dragged him to his knees, and made him speak the truth.
But that passed off as quickly as it came, and a feeling of pity came for the boy who, in his horror of detection, had felt himself bound to save himself at another’s expense, and I found myself wondering whether under the circumstances I should not have done the same.
These thoughts darted through my mind like lightning, and so did those which followed.
“I want to save him,” I said to myself, in the midst of the painful silence during which the Doctor stood thinking and softly wiping his forehead and then the palms of his hands upon his white pocket handkerchief; “but I can’t take the credit of it all. It is too horrible. But if I tell all I know, he will be expelled, and it will ruin him. Oh, why don’t he confess?—why don’t he confess?”
It was as if the Doctor had heard these last words as I thought them, for he said now in a deep, grave voice, as he turned to me, just as I was feeling that it would be too cruel to denounce my companion,—
“This is a sad—a painful affair, Burr junior. I wanted to disbelieve in your guilt, I wanted to feel that there was no young gentleman in my establishment who could stoop to such a piece of base pilfering; but the truth is so circumstantially brought home through the despicable meanness of a boy of whose actions I feel the utmost abhorrence, that I am bound to say to you that there is nothing left but for you to own frankly that you have been led into temptation—to say that you bitterly repent of what you have done, and throw yourself upon my mercy. Do this at once, boy, for the sake of those at home who love you.”
I felt my face twitch at these words and the picture they evoked, and then, numbed as it were, I stood listening, slightly buoyed up by the feeling that Mercer would speak directly and clear me.
“You were entrusted to my care, Burr junior,” continued the Doctor, “as a youth who was in future to enter upon one of the most honourable of careers, that of a soldier; but now that you have disgraced yourself like this—”
“No, no, sir!” I cried. “Don’t—pray don’t think I took the wretched watch!”
There was so much passionate agony in my voice that the Doctor paused for a few moments, before, in the midst of the solemn silence which ensued, he said coldly,—
“Do you deny that you took the watch?”
“Yes, yes. Indeed, indeed I did not take it, sir!” The Doctor sighed.
“Do you deny that you were seen by Dicksee this morning with the watch in your hands?”
“No, sir; that is true,” I said, with a look at Mercer, who hung down his head.
“Then I am bound by the statements that have been made, painful as it is to me, to consider that in a moment of weak impulse you did this base thing. If I am wrong, Heaven forgive me, forhumanum est errare. The truth, however, seems too clear.”
“I—I found it there,” I panted.
The Doctor shook his head.
“It is like charging your school-fellow with stealing the watch. Do you do this?”
I was silent.
“Mr Rebble,” said the Doctor, “you came here as a gentleman to aid me in the training of these youths. Can you do anything to help me here?”
“I—I,” said Mr Rebble huskily, “would gladly do so, sir, if I could. I wouldn’t trust Dicksee’s word in anything. He is as pitiful and contemptible a boy as ever came under my charge, but I am afraid he has spoken the truth here.”
“I fear so,” said the Doctor. “Mr Hasnip, you have—been but a short time among us, still you have learned the disposition of the pupils. Can you help me—help us?—for it is terrible to me to have to pass judgment in such a case.”
“Doctor Browne,” cried Mr Hasnip warmly, and I saw the tears start to his eyes, “I would give anything to be able to say it is all a mistake.”
“But you feel that you can not?”
Mr Hasnip shook his head, and turned away to hide the working of his face, while I stood wondering at the feeling he displayed.
There was again a painful silence, and I stood there, shrinking, but with a hot feeling of anger swelling within me, waiting for Tom Mercer to speak out and save me from disgrace. And with this hot tide of bitterness and rage that I should be so doubted and suspected, came a feeling of obstinacy that was maddening, while something within me seemed to say, “They would not believe you if you spoke.”
“No,” said the Doctor at last, “I am afraid that you cannot; and I now address myself to you, Burr junior. Do you confess that you are guilty?”
“No, sir,” I cried angrily, “I am not!” and again there was silence.
“I think I will give you time for reflection,” said the Doctor. “Mr Rebble, I place Burr junior in your charge. Of course he must be secluded. I, too, want time for reflection before sending word to the unhappy lad’s friends—a most painful task—a most painful task.”
He walked slowly toward the steps, and a fresh feeling of excitement surged up within me. I wanted to speak now—to say something in my own defence, as I thought of the Doctor’s letter going to my mother, and of her agony, then of my uncle learning this, and coming over. It seemed too terrible, and I tried to call the Doctor back, but no words would come. I saw him descend slowly, and Mr Hasnip sign to the boys to follow, after which, giving me a sad look, he too descended, leaving me alone with Mr Rebble, whose first words were so stern and harsh that I could not turn to him and confide and ask his sympathy and help.
“This way, sir,” he said sharply, and without a word I followed him down and across the stable-yard, passing cook at the door ready to give me a pitying glance for being in disgrace.
Then, as if it was all a dream, I was led into the house, and up-stairs to a small room containing only one bed—a room whose window looked out away toward the General’s estates.
The door was closed behind me without a word, and as I stood there I heard it locked and the key withdrawn, followed by Mr Rebble’s footsteps along the passage, and then I threw myself down on the bed in a passion of rage against Mercer.
“You coward!” I cried, and as I ground my teeth I indulged in a wish that I could have him there.
“Oh!” I cried, “only for half an hour, and then—” I did not finish my sentence, but bounded off the bed to stand up there alone, unconsciously enough in the position Lomax had taught me, and with my left hand raised to strike.
Chapter Twenty Seven.It was very different to be a prisoner now alone. I longed for Mercer’s companionship, but it was so that I might punish him for what I again and again called his miserable cowardice, which seemed to me to make his crime ten times worse. And so I walked up and down the little room restlessly, thinking over the times when my school-fellow had talked about the watch, and his intense longing to possess it, or such a one.Nothing could be plainer. He had given way at last, and taken it on that unlucky day when he was hanging about talking to me as I lay on the grass with my head throbbing, and then walking away toward the tent or to where he could get a good look at the cricketers.“Too much for him,” I said,—“too much for him, and I am to take the credit of his theft. But I will not. If he is such a mean coward as to let me take his stealing on my shoulders, he is not worth sparing, and he shall take the credit for himself—upon his own shoulders and not mine.”“Oh, what an ass I have been ever to make friends with such a fellow!” I cried, after a pause. “I ought to have known better. Never mind, I do know better now, and to-morrow morning I’ll ask to see the Doctor, and I’ll tell him everything, and—get him expelled!”That set me thinking once more about his people at home, and as I did, I began to waver, and call to mind how terrible it would be, and that I liked him too well in spite of all.For I did like him. I had never had a brother, and he had seemed to fill his place, so that now, for the first time, I fully understood how we two lads had become knit together, and how terribly hard it would be to speak out.I sat down by the window at last, to let the cool breeze play upon my aching temples, and as I leaned my head against the side, the cheery voices of the boys in the field floated up to me, to make me more wretched still.“It’s nothing to them,” I said to myself. “Nobody there cares, and Eely and Dicksee were only too glad to have their revenge upon me. I don’t know, though,” I said; “they both thought I took the watch, and believed all they said. But it was a triumph for them.”I sat thinking.“I wonder what Lomax will say? Will he believe that I am a common thief?“What is Tom doing now? Out at play, I suppose, and glorying in his escape. He knows I would not be such a sneak as to tell, and thinks I shall bear it all patiently—too ready to spare him, or too cowardly to say a word.”I was interrupted by steps, and in my misery I hoped that they would pass the door, but a key was thrust in, and I caught a glimpse of Mr Rebble, who waited outside while one of the maids brought in my tea on a tray,—a plain mug, and a plate of bread and butter; then she gave me a look of commiseration, making my cheeks burn, as I wondered whether she knew that I was shut up because people thought I was a thief, and unfit to associate with the other boys. But no word was spoken; she passed out, the door was shut and locked, and I rested my aching head once more against the side of the window, the very sight of food making me feel disgust; and there I stayed for how long I cannot say, but at last I started up, puzzled and wondering, to find that I must have dropped asleep, regularly wearied out, and that it was growing dusk, and the moon, like a thin curved streak, was sailing down in the faint glow of the heavens, not far from where the sun had gone.I shivered a little, for I was cold, but my head was better, and I began to go over the events of the afternoon again, wondering whether the Doctor would send for me in the morning, to say that Mercer had confessed, and that he was glad to be able once more to take me by the hand.Just then I heard a faint sigh, apparently coming up from the garden, and I involuntarily looked down, but could see nothing.The sigh rose again, and now I was able to locate it in a clump of evergreens at the edge of the lawn. But I could see nothing save green leaves; and started again and drew back a little a few minutes later, as the sigh was again repeated, this time followed by a faint whisper, and I heard my name.“Frank—Frank Burr. Hist!”“Yes; who called?” I said.“Me. Can’t you hear? Tom—Tom Mercer.”I was silent, and stood, feeling hot and angry, gazing down into the grounds.“Frank!” came up again. “I say!”I remained silent.“Have you got any string? Let a piece down.”I knew what that meant. He had been to the kitchens and was going to send me up some supper. In other words, he was going to try and smooth over his despicable behaviour.“A coward! A sneak! I hate him!” I muttered, as I stood there close to the window, as if unable to drag myself away, but listening greedily all the while, as Mercer went on in an excited whisper, insulting me, as I called it.“Oh, I say, do speak, Frank,” he said. “I can’t stop long, and there’d be a row if any one knew I came to you. I am so sorry, Frank. I’ve been down to Polly Hopley’s, and bought a lot of her turnovers and some sweet tuck. I want to send it up to you. Haven’t you any string?”I made no reply.“Frank! I say: I know: tear up your handkerchiefs. I’ll give you some of mine to make up. Tie the bits together so as to make a long string, and let it down. Frank!”“Go away, you miserable, cowardly sneak!” I cried passionately; “and never dare to speak to me again.”He was silent for a few minutes, as if stunned by my fierce words. Then he began again.“Oh, I say,” he whispered, “don’t turn on a chap like that when he was going to stick to you. I couldn’t help it.”I knew that the temptation had been too strong for him, but I was none the less bitter against him, and my wrath reached its climax soon after, when he said eagerly,—“I say, Frank, I am indeed so sorry! and I’d have said it was I did it, if it would have got you off; but they wouldn’t have believed me.”Bang!That was the window, which, in my passion at his coolness, I shut down with all my might, and then went and threw myself on the bed, with my head aching violently, and the sensation of misery increasing, so that at times I felt as if I must try and break open the door, creep down in the night, and run away somewhere—anywhere, so as to end the trouble I was in.I never knew when, but I suppose the throbbing in my head must have lulled a little, and I once more dropped off to sleep, to wake up with a start in the darkness, wondering where I was, and whether I had been having a confused dream about a watch being stolen, and some one getting into trouble. Who it was I could not quite tell, for my head ached, I felt sick, and everything was confused and strange.While I was trying hard to collect myself, I suppose I must have dropped to sleep again, for when I next opened my eyes, the sun was shining brightly, and, light-hearted and eager, I jumped off the bed to run and open the window, but, as my feet touched the floor, memory began to come back with its heavy load of misery.Why was I dressed even to my boots? Why was I in a fresh room? Where was Tom Mercer?The answers to my questions came, and I stood there with a sinking sensation of misery, increasing moment by moment, till with a sigh I roused myself a little and went toward the window.“Where is Tom Mercer?” I said to myself again, with a bitter laugh. “Safe, and I am to take the blame for his miserable acts. Where’s Tom Mercer?”I was opening the window as I spoke, and there he was hiding behind a clump of Portugal laurel, where he had been watching, quite ready to spring up eagerly now, and begin to make signs, as he showed me a school bag with something heavy inside.I knew what it meant, of course, but the bitter feeling against him was too intense for me to accept aid in any form, and I drew back without noticing him further; and, as I did so, my head felt clearer for my night’s rest, and I began to see the course that was open to me.I could not turn upon Tom and become his accuser, for, if the crime was brought home to him, it would be terrible, and I knew I should never forgive myself for saving my own credit by denouncing my companion. No; I had fully made up my mind, in those few minutes since rising, to deny firmly and defiantly the charge of taking the watch. Even if they expelled me, and I was sent away, they might call it in disgrace, but it would not be. And even if Doctor Browne and the masters believed me guilty, I knew there was some one at home who would take my word at once, indignant at such a charge being brought against me.Yes, that was my course, plain enough: to maintain my innocence firmly, but to say no more. They might find out about Tom Mercer. I would not betray him.A stubborn feeling of determination came over me now, and all seemed to be as plain as could be. I was actually beginning to wonder that I should have taken it all so much to heart. “She will believe me,” I said; “and they will have to at last.”I had just arrived at this point in reasoning out my position, when I was brought to a sudden check by a fresh thought—one which made me turn cold. It was, “What will uncle say?”I was thrown back into a state of the greatest misery again directly by this. For my uncle was so stern a disciplinarian that in advance I saw with horror the impression such a charge hanging over me would make upon one who had so often impressed upon me the duties of him who would grow up to be a gentleman, and who was to occupy the position of an officer in a gallant service.“Shall I dare to hold out?” I asked myself; “shall I be able to clear myself without accusing Tom?”I started, for there was a thud at my window, as if something moderately soft had struck the frame.But I could see nothing, and I was sinking back into my musing fit again, when something struck me on the back, and then fell with a dull sound upon the floor and rolled under the wash-stand.I stooped and picked it up, to find that it was one of the solid indiarubber balls we used for our games at rounders, and tightly fastened around it was a piece of thin twine, the strong, light string we used for kites. The twine hung out of the window, and I knew that Mercer had thrown it up, and the second time sent it right in at the open sash,—no difficult task for him, as he was one of the most skilful throwers we had in the school, and he could generally hit a boy running fast when we were engaged in a game, while at cricket, the way in which he could field a ball, and send it up to the wicket-keeper, made him a special acquisition in a game.“I’m not going to be bribed into silence!” I cried; “I’d sooner starve;” and, going quickly to the window, I hurled the ball down, before drawing back, and then approaching the opening again to peer down from behind one of the white dimity curtains, where, unseen myself, I could watch Mercer slowly winding up the string till the indiarubber ball reached his hands, when, after a doleful look up, he ducked down behind the bushes with the school bag and walked cautiously away.
It was very different to be a prisoner now alone. I longed for Mercer’s companionship, but it was so that I might punish him for what I again and again called his miserable cowardice, which seemed to me to make his crime ten times worse. And so I walked up and down the little room restlessly, thinking over the times when my school-fellow had talked about the watch, and his intense longing to possess it, or such a one.
Nothing could be plainer. He had given way at last, and taken it on that unlucky day when he was hanging about talking to me as I lay on the grass with my head throbbing, and then walking away toward the tent or to where he could get a good look at the cricketers.
“Too much for him,” I said,—“too much for him, and I am to take the credit of his theft. But I will not. If he is such a mean coward as to let me take his stealing on my shoulders, he is not worth sparing, and he shall take the credit for himself—upon his own shoulders and not mine.”
“Oh, what an ass I have been ever to make friends with such a fellow!” I cried, after a pause. “I ought to have known better. Never mind, I do know better now, and to-morrow morning I’ll ask to see the Doctor, and I’ll tell him everything, and—get him expelled!”
That set me thinking once more about his people at home, and as I did, I began to waver, and call to mind how terrible it would be, and that I liked him too well in spite of all.
For I did like him. I had never had a brother, and he had seemed to fill his place, so that now, for the first time, I fully understood how we two lads had become knit together, and how terribly hard it would be to speak out.
I sat down by the window at last, to let the cool breeze play upon my aching temples, and as I leaned my head against the side, the cheery voices of the boys in the field floated up to me, to make me more wretched still.
“It’s nothing to them,” I said to myself. “Nobody there cares, and Eely and Dicksee were only too glad to have their revenge upon me. I don’t know, though,” I said; “they both thought I took the watch, and believed all they said. But it was a triumph for them.”
I sat thinking.
“I wonder what Lomax will say? Will he believe that I am a common thief?
“What is Tom doing now? Out at play, I suppose, and glorying in his escape. He knows I would not be such a sneak as to tell, and thinks I shall bear it all patiently—too ready to spare him, or too cowardly to say a word.”
I was interrupted by steps, and in my misery I hoped that they would pass the door, but a key was thrust in, and I caught a glimpse of Mr Rebble, who waited outside while one of the maids brought in my tea on a tray,—a plain mug, and a plate of bread and butter; then she gave me a look of commiseration, making my cheeks burn, as I wondered whether she knew that I was shut up because people thought I was a thief, and unfit to associate with the other boys. But no word was spoken; she passed out, the door was shut and locked, and I rested my aching head once more against the side of the window, the very sight of food making me feel disgust; and there I stayed for how long I cannot say, but at last I started up, puzzled and wondering, to find that I must have dropped asleep, regularly wearied out, and that it was growing dusk, and the moon, like a thin curved streak, was sailing down in the faint glow of the heavens, not far from where the sun had gone.
I shivered a little, for I was cold, but my head was better, and I began to go over the events of the afternoon again, wondering whether the Doctor would send for me in the morning, to say that Mercer had confessed, and that he was glad to be able once more to take me by the hand.
Just then I heard a faint sigh, apparently coming up from the garden, and I involuntarily looked down, but could see nothing.
The sigh rose again, and now I was able to locate it in a clump of evergreens at the edge of the lawn. But I could see nothing save green leaves; and started again and drew back a little a few minutes later, as the sigh was again repeated, this time followed by a faint whisper, and I heard my name.
“Frank—Frank Burr. Hist!”
“Yes; who called?” I said.
“Me. Can’t you hear? Tom—Tom Mercer.”
I was silent, and stood, feeling hot and angry, gazing down into the grounds.
“Frank!” came up again. “I say!”
I remained silent.
“Have you got any string? Let a piece down.”
I knew what that meant. He had been to the kitchens and was going to send me up some supper. In other words, he was going to try and smooth over his despicable behaviour.
“A coward! A sneak! I hate him!” I muttered, as I stood there close to the window, as if unable to drag myself away, but listening greedily all the while, as Mercer went on in an excited whisper, insulting me, as I called it.
“Oh, I say, do speak, Frank,” he said. “I can’t stop long, and there’d be a row if any one knew I came to you. I am so sorry, Frank. I’ve been down to Polly Hopley’s, and bought a lot of her turnovers and some sweet tuck. I want to send it up to you. Haven’t you any string?”
I made no reply.
“Frank! I say: I know: tear up your handkerchiefs. I’ll give you some of mine to make up. Tie the bits together so as to make a long string, and let it down. Frank!”
“Go away, you miserable, cowardly sneak!” I cried passionately; “and never dare to speak to me again.”
He was silent for a few minutes, as if stunned by my fierce words. Then he began again.
“Oh, I say,” he whispered, “don’t turn on a chap like that when he was going to stick to you. I couldn’t help it.”
I knew that the temptation had been too strong for him, but I was none the less bitter against him, and my wrath reached its climax soon after, when he said eagerly,—
“I say, Frank, I am indeed so sorry! and I’d have said it was I did it, if it would have got you off; but they wouldn’t have believed me.”
Bang!
That was the window, which, in my passion at his coolness, I shut down with all my might, and then went and threw myself on the bed, with my head aching violently, and the sensation of misery increasing, so that at times I felt as if I must try and break open the door, creep down in the night, and run away somewhere—anywhere, so as to end the trouble I was in.
I never knew when, but I suppose the throbbing in my head must have lulled a little, and I once more dropped off to sleep, to wake up with a start in the darkness, wondering where I was, and whether I had been having a confused dream about a watch being stolen, and some one getting into trouble. Who it was I could not quite tell, for my head ached, I felt sick, and everything was confused and strange.
While I was trying hard to collect myself, I suppose I must have dropped to sleep again, for when I next opened my eyes, the sun was shining brightly, and, light-hearted and eager, I jumped off the bed to run and open the window, but, as my feet touched the floor, memory began to come back with its heavy load of misery.
Why was I dressed even to my boots? Why was I in a fresh room? Where was Tom Mercer?
The answers to my questions came, and I stood there with a sinking sensation of misery, increasing moment by moment, till with a sigh I roused myself a little and went toward the window.
“Where is Tom Mercer?” I said to myself again, with a bitter laugh. “Safe, and I am to take the blame for his miserable acts. Where’s Tom Mercer?”
I was opening the window as I spoke, and there he was hiding behind a clump of Portugal laurel, where he had been watching, quite ready to spring up eagerly now, and begin to make signs, as he showed me a school bag with something heavy inside.
I knew what it meant, of course, but the bitter feeling against him was too intense for me to accept aid in any form, and I drew back without noticing him further; and, as I did so, my head felt clearer for my night’s rest, and I began to see the course that was open to me.
I could not turn upon Tom and become his accuser, for, if the crime was brought home to him, it would be terrible, and I knew I should never forgive myself for saving my own credit by denouncing my companion. No; I had fully made up my mind, in those few minutes since rising, to deny firmly and defiantly the charge of taking the watch. Even if they expelled me, and I was sent away, they might call it in disgrace, but it would not be. And even if Doctor Browne and the masters believed me guilty, I knew there was some one at home who would take my word at once, indignant at such a charge being brought against me.
Yes, that was my course, plain enough: to maintain my innocence firmly, but to say no more. They might find out about Tom Mercer. I would not betray him.
A stubborn feeling of determination came over me now, and all seemed to be as plain as could be. I was actually beginning to wonder that I should have taken it all so much to heart. “She will believe me,” I said; “and they will have to at last.”
I had just arrived at this point in reasoning out my position, when I was brought to a sudden check by a fresh thought—one which made me turn cold. It was, “What will uncle say?”
I was thrown back into a state of the greatest misery again directly by this. For my uncle was so stern a disciplinarian that in advance I saw with horror the impression such a charge hanging over me would make upon one who had so often impressed upon me the duties of him who would grow up to be a gentleman, and who was to occupy the position of an officer in a gallant service.
“Shall I dare to hold out?” I asked myself; “shall I be able to clear myself without accusing Tom?”
I started, for there was a thud at my window, as if something moderately soft had struck the frame.
But I could see nothing, and I was sinking back into my musing fit again, when something struck me on the back, and then fell with a dull sound upon the floor and rolled under the wash-stand.
I stooped and picked it up, to find that it was one of the solid indiarubber balls we used for our games at rounders, and tightly fastened around it was a piece of thin twine, the strong, light string we used for kites. The twine hung out of the window, and I knew that Mercer had thrown it up, and the second time sent it right in at the open sash,—no difficult task for him, as he was one of the most skilful throwers we had in the school, and he could generally hit a boy running fast when we were engaged in a game, while at cricket, the way in which he could field a ball, and send it up to the wicket-keeper, made him a special acquisition in a game.
“I’m not going to be bribed into silence!” I cried; “I’d sooner starve;” and, going quickly to the window, I hurled the ball down, before drawing back, and then approaching the opening again to peer down from behind one of the white dimity curtains, where, unseen myself, I could watch Mercer slowly winding up the string till the indiarubber ball reached his hands, when, after a doleful look up, he ducked down behind the bushes with the school bag and walked cautiously away.
Chapter Twenty Eight.Human nature is a curious thing, and the older one grows the more strange and wonderful it seems. There was I watching Tom Mercer from the window, and the minute before I felt as if I would have given anything to have him there alone with our jackets off, to put in force the old sergeant’s teaching, knowing that I could in my passion nearly knock his head off. The next minute, as I saw him walk dejectedly away with his head down, evidently bitterly hurt and disappointed, I found myself sorry for him, and wanting to call him back.And this was from no desire to partake of the good things he had, I was perfectly sure, in the bag, for in my misery I had no appetite or desire to eat anything, but from honest liking for the boy who had been my companion from the first.But I was too proud to call him back, and in my anger I mentally called him a contemptible, cowardly thief, and vowed that I would never speak to him again.Boys always keep those vows, of course—for an hour or two, and then break them, and a good thing too. They would be horrible young misanthropes if they did not.So Tom Mercer was gone, with his bagful, string, and indiarubber ball, and I plumped myself down on a chair by the window, rested my crossed arms on the inner ledge, and, placing my chin upon them, sat staring out over the beautiful Sussex landscape, thinking about what was to come.But, mingled with those thoughts, there came plenty of memories of the past; as my eyes lit on the woods and fields, with a glint of one of the General’s ponds where we boys had fished.Oh, how lovely it all looked that sunny morning, with the rays flashing from the dewy grass and leaves, and how impossible it seemed that I could be so unhappy, shut up there like a prisoner, and looked upon by every one as a thief!What should I do? Wait for the truth to come out, or behave like any high-spirited boy would,—high-spirited and gallant from my point of view,—set them all at defiance, wait for my opportunity, and escape—go right away and seek my fortune?No, I did not want any fortune. My uncle wished me to be a soldier, as my father had been, and that meant study for years, then training perhaps at Woolwich, and at last a commission.“I will not wait for that,” I said to myself; “I’ll be a soldier at once. I’ll go and enlist, and rise from the ranks, and in years to come, when I am a captain or a major, I will go back home, and tell them that I was perfectly innocent, and they’ll be sorry they believed that I was a thief.”These romantic thoughts put me in better spirits, and I began to plan what I would do, and how I could get away, for I could not see in my excitement what a young donkey I was to fill my head with such nonsense, and what a mean, cowardly thing it would be to go off, and make my supposed guilt a certainty with my uncle, break my mother’s heart, and generally throw all my future to the winds—always supposing it possible that I could have found any recruiting sergeant who would have taken such a slip of a boy, as, of course, I could not; for to a certainty I should have been laughed at, and come away like a frightened cur, with my tail between my legs.I was mentally blind then, puffed up with vanity, and as bitter and angry as it is possible for a boy to be, and all I can say in extenuation is that I had had good cause to be upset by the trouble I had gone through.“I’ll go,” I said excitedly. “To-night as soon as it is dark, and—”I stopped short, for I saw a familiar figure going along the road in front of the great house. It was Lomax, having his morning pipe and walk before going back to his garden, and the sight of the old sergeant made me feel sorry for my determination. He had been so friendly, and under his stiff military ways there had been so much kindliness. He had been so proud of the way in which I had acquired the things he taught; and as he went on, tall, upright, and manly-looking, I began to wonder what he would say, and I exclaimed eagerly,—“He’ll know that I have gone off to join the army, and say I have done well.”Down came a wet blanket.“No,” I said dolefully; “he will think I have run away because I was a thief.”“I can’t go. It is impossible for me to go,” I said passionately, as I began to pace the room, and sheets torn up and tied together with counterpane and blankets, to make out the rope down which I was to slide to liberty, fell away as if they were so much tinder; while the other plan I had of unscrewing the lock of the door, and taking it off with my pocket-knife, so as to steal down the stairs, tumbled to nothing, as soon as I thought that I must steal away.Just then I started, for there was a tap at the door—a very soft, gentle tap, and then a hoarse whisper.“Master Burr! Master Burr!”“Yes,” I said sourly. “Who is it? What do you want?”“It’s me, my dear. Cook. I’m just going down. Are you dressed yet?”“Yes.”“I heard last night that you were shut up. Whatever is the matter?”I was silent.“Master Mercer came and told me, and asked me for something to eat for you, because he said he knew they’d only give you bread and water.”“Master Mercer!” I muttered to myself angrily; “and I’m to suffer for him!”“There, I won’t bother you, my dear, but I’m very sorry, and I don’t suppose it’s anything much. Have you broken a window?”“No, Cook.”“Now don’t say you’ve been stealing apples, because I’d have given you lots if you’d asked.”“No,” I said softly, for the woman’s voice sounded so pleasant and sympathetic that I wanted her to stay.“Then I know: you’ve been breaking bounds. Oh dear, boys will be boys, and it’s quite natural, my dear, for you to want to get away, and run where you like. I don’t wonder, shut up as you all are, like being in a cage. There, don’t you fret, and it’ll all come right. I’ll see that you have something beside bread and water. Bread and water, indeed! Such stuff as is only to cook with. Why, they might just as well feed you on flour.”“What time is it, Cook?” I asked.“Just gone six, my dear; and there: I mustn’t stop gossiping, for I’ve my fire to light, my kitchen to do; but I hate people to be miserable. I can’t abide it. There’s plenty of worries with one’s work, as I told missus only yesterday. There, good-bye, and don’t you fret.”I heard the rustling of her dress as she went along the passage, and I stood by the door till it died away, feeling sad but pleased, for it was satisfactory to know that there were people about the place who cared for me. But I felt more low-spirited directly as I thought of what she might say as soon as she knew the real cause of why I was a prisoner.The bell rang for rising, and I heard some of the boys soon after out in their gardens; then, as I stood back from the window, I caught sight of one or two, and after a while heard the increasing hum and buzz of voices, and knew that some of them must be getting up lessons that had been neglected over-night. And as I listened, I thought of the times when I had murmured and felt dissatisfied at being obliged to give so much time to such work, whereas now I was envying the happy boys who were seated at study, with no greater care upon their minds.Perhaps I was learning a great lesson then, one that I did not know.The time went on very slowly, and it seemed many hours since I awoke, when the breakfast-bell rang, and I sat picturing the scene, and fancying I could hear the boys talking and the mugs and spoons clattering, as the great piles of bread and butter disappeared.I was just thinking this when there were steps in the passage, and soon after the key was rattled in the lock, Mr Rebble appeared, and with him one of the maids, with a tray on which was a mug and a plate of bread and butter.He did not look at me, only admitted the maid to set down the tray, saw her out, and I was locked in again.It was very much like the old time, but Tom Mercer was not there to lighten my loneliness.As the door closed, I noticed that the mug was steaming, and found that I was not to have prison fare though I was a prisoner, for my breakfast was precisely the same as that of the other boys.“I can’t touch it,” I said, “It is impossible to eat.”But I was feverishly thirsty, and I took up the mug of milk, just made warm by the addition of some boiling water. It was pleasantly sweet, too, and I half fancied that Cook had put in an extra quantity of sugar.More from habit than anything else, for I felt sick and full of distaste for food, I broke off a piece of bread and butter and began to eat it mechanically, and now knew that I was right, for, instead of the salt butter we generally had, this was fresh and sweet. Cook had certainly been favouring me, and that scrap led to the finishing of the slice, and finally to the disappearance of all that was on the plate, while the last drop of milk and water was drained from the big mug.As soon as the breakfast was finished, a morbid feeling of vexation came over me. I was angry because I had touched it, and wished that I had sulked, and shown myself too much injured to go on as if nothing had happened. But it was too late then.After a while, Mr Rebble came back, looking very severe. He watched the maid as she took the tray, but the girl gave me a sympathetic look, and then I was once more left alone.Hard people think they do not,—they say, “Oh, he’s only a boy; he’ll soon forget,”—but boys suffer mentally as keenly, or more keenly, than grown people. Of course they do, for everything about them is young, tender, and easily wounded. I know that they soon recover from some mental injury. Naturally. They are young and elastic, and the sapling, if bent down, springs up again, but for the time they suffer cruelly.I know I did, shut up there in disgrace, and, as I sat or walked about my prison, it made no difference to me that it was a plainly furnished, neat bedroom, for it was as prison-like to me in my vein as if the floor had been stone, the door of iron-clamped oak with rusty hinges. And as I moved about the place, I began to understand how prisoners gladly made friends with spiders, mice, and rats, or employed themselves cutting their names on the walls, carving pieces of wood, or writing long histories.But I had no insects or animals to amuse me, no wood to carve, no stone walls upon which to chisel my name.I had only been a prisoner for a few hours, you may say.Quite true, but, oh, what hours they were, and what agony I suffered from my thoughts!I spent most of my time at the window, forcing myself to think of how things were going on in school, and I pictured the boys at their lessons—at the Doctor’s desk at Mr Rebble’s, and Mr Hasnip’s. It was German day, too, and I thought about our quaint foreign master, and about Lomax drilling the boys in the afternoon. He would be asking them where I was; and the question arose in my mind, would the boys tell him, or would they have had orders, as we did once before, about a year back, when a pupil disgraced himself, not to mention the affair outside the school walls.My spirits rose a little at this, for it would be horrible for Lomax to know, and go and think it over. And I seemed to know that he would take it more to heart about me than if it were any other boy, for I was to be a soldier, and, as he would have expressed it, “One of ours.”Dinner-time at last—the bell ringing, and the shouts and cries of the boys, “All in! all in!” though we used to want very little calling for meals.After a time, my dinner was brought up, as my breakfast had been, in silence, and I felt then that I should have liked Mr Rebble to speak, if it had only been to bully. But he did not so much as look at me, only stalked into the room and out again.Who was going to eat and enjoy a dinner, brought like that?“It’s like an animal in a cage being fed,” I said angrily; and I was quite angry because the roast beef, potatoes, and greens smelt so nice that I was obliged to sit down and eat and enjoy the meal, for I was very hungry.After the tray had been fetched, I made up my mind that at any minute now the Doctor might send for me, to give me a severe examination, and I shivered at the idea of being forced to speak out, and say everything I knew. I wished now that it was dark, so that I might have attempted to escape, if only to avoid that meeting. But it was impossible. Even if I could get off the lock, I should be seen, for certain, and brought back in an ignominious fashion, that would be terrible.But the afternoon wore away, as I sat listening to the shouts of the boys at play, thinking bitterly of how little they thought of me shut up there; and I began wondering where Mercer was, little thinking that he was watching me; but he was, sure enough, for, just close upon tea-time, I caught sight of him, lying down upon his chest, where he had crawled unseen among the shrubs, and there he was, with his elbows on the ground and his chin in his hands, watching me, just as a faithful dog might his master.I shrank away from the window, as soon as I saw him, and then waited till the bell rang for tea, when I peeped out again, to see that he was gone, but I could trace him by the movement of the laurels, bays, and lilacs, whose branches were thrust aside as he crept through.“He’ll come back again after tea,” I thought, and I was right. I had only just finished my own, brought up as before, when, glancing from the window, there I saw him, gazing up at me like a whipped dog, asking to be taken into favour once again.“Why hasn’t the Doctor sent for me?” I asked myself; but I could find only one reason,—he meant me to come to his study quite late in the evening.But he did not, and that dreary time passed slowly away, as I watched the darkness come on, and the stars peer out one by one. Then I saw the moon rise far away over the sea, shining brightly, till the sky grew cloudy, as my life seemed now to be.But no footstep—no summons to go down to the Doctor’s room, and, though I kept on fancying that I heard steps on the stairs, I was always deceived, and it was not until I heard the bell ring for prayers and bed, that I knew I should not have to meet the Doctor that night.There were steps enough now in the corridors and on the stairs, and I sat near the door, for the sake of the company, naming the boys to myself, as I recognised the voices. But I shrank away once, as two boys stopped by my door, and I heard them say,—“Wonder how old Burr junior’s getting on?”“Ah! he’s in for it now. Don’t talk, or he’ll hear us.”They passed on, and I heard their door close, after which there was a loud scuffling and bumping from the other sides accompanied by smothered laughter and dull blows.I knew directly what was going on, and sighed, as I recalled how many times I had engaged in the forbidden joys of a bolstering match.Their merriment only made me feel the pain the more bitterly, and I was glad when I heard a familiar cough at the end of the passage, and the tapping of a stick on the floor.All was silent in an instant, and by degrees every murmur died away, and I lay down and slept heavily, for mine was weary trouble. There was no guilty conscience to keep me awake.
Human nature is a curious thing, and the older one grows the more strange and wonderful it seems. There was I watching Tom Mercer from the window, and the minute before I felt as if I would have given anything to have him there alone with our jackets off, to put in force the old sergeant’s teaching, knowing that I could in my passion nearly knock his head off. The next minute, as I saw him walk dejectedly away with his head down, evidently bitterly hurt and disappointed, I found myself sorry for him, and wanting to call him back.
And this was from no desire to partake of the good things he had, I was perfectly sure, in the bag, for in my misery I had no appetite or desire to eat anything, but from honest liking for the boy who had been my companion from the first.
But I was too proud to call him back, and in my anger I mentally called him a contemptible, cowardly thief, and vowed that I would never speak to him again.
Boys always keep those vows, of course—for an hour or two, and then break them, and a good thing too. They would be horrible young misanthropes if they did not.
So Tom Mercer was gone, with his bagful, string, and indiarubber ball, and I plumped myself down on a chair by the window, rested my crossed arms on the inner ledge, and, placing my chin upon them, sat staring out over the beautiful Sussex landscape, thinking about what was to come.
But, mingled with those thoughts, there came plenty of memories of the past; as my eyes lit on the woods and fields, with a glint of one of the General’s ponds where we boys had fished.
Oh, how lovely it all looked that sunny morning, with the rays flashing from the dewy grass and leaves, and how impossible it seemed that I could be so unhappy, shut up there like a prisoner, and looked upon by every one as a thief!
What should I do? Wait for the truth to come out, or behave like any high-spirited boy would,—high-spirited and gallant from my point of view,—set them all at defiance, wait for my opportunity, and escape—go right away and seek my fortune?
No, I did not want any fortune. My uncle wished me to be a soldier, as my father had been, and that meant study for years, then training perhaps at Woolwich, and at last a commission.
“I will not wait for that,” I said to myself; “I’ll be a soldier at once. I’ll go and enlist, and rise from the ranks, and in years to come, when I am a captain or a major, I will go back home, and tell them that I was perfectly innocent, and they’ll be sorry they believed that I was a thief.”
These romantic thoughts put me in better spirits, and I began to plan what I would do, and how I could get away, for I could not see in my excitement what a young donkey I was to fill my head with such nonsense, and what a mean, cowardly thing it would be to go off, and make my supposed guilt a certainty with my uncle, break my mother’s heart, and generally throw all my future to the winds—always supposing it possible that I could have found any recruiting sergeant who would have taken such a slip of a boy, as, of course, I could not; for to a certainty I should have been laughed at, and come away like a frightened cur, with my tail between my legs.
I was mentally blind then, puffed up with vanity, and as bitter and angry as it is possible for a boy to be, and all I can say in extenuation is that I had had good cause to be upset by the trouble I had gone through.
“I’ll go,” I said excitedly. “To-night as soon as it is dark, and—”
I stopped short, for I saw a familiar figure going along the road in front of the great house. It was Lomax, having his morning pipe and walk before going back to his garden, and the sight of the old sergeant made me feel sorry for my determination. He had been so friendly, and under his stiff military ways there had been so much kindliness. He had been so proud of the way in which I had acquired the things he taught; and as he went on, tall, upright, and manly-looking, I began to wonder what he would say, and I exclaimed eagerly,—
“He’ll know that I have gone off to join the army, and say I have done well.”
Down came a wet blanket.
“No,” I said dolefully; “he will think I have run away because I was a thief.”
“I can’t go. It is impossible for me to go,” I said passionately, as I began to pace the room, and sheets torn up and tied together with counterpane and blankets, to make out the rope down which I was to slide to liberty, fell away as if they were so much tinder; while the other plan I had of unscrewing the lock of the door, and taking it off with my pocket-knife, so as to steal down the stairs, tumbled to nothing, as soon as I thought that I must steal away.
Just then I started, for there was a tap at the door—a very soft, gentle tap, and then a hoarse whisper.
“Master Burr! Master Burr!”
“Yes,” I said sourly. “Who is it? What do you want?”
“It’s me, my dear. Cook. I’m just going down. Are you dressed yet?”
“Yes.”
“I heard last night that you were shut up. Whatever is the matter?”
I was silent.
“Master Mercer came and told me, and asked me for something to eat for you, because he said he knew they’d only give you bread and water.”
“Master Mercer!” I muttered to myself angrily; “and I’m to suffer for him!”
“There, I won’t bother you, my dear, but I’m very sorry, and I don’t suppose it’s anything much. Have you broken a window?”
“No, Cook.”
“Now don’t say you’ve been stealing apples, because I’d have given you lots if you’d asked.”
“No,” I said softly, for the woman’s voice sounded so pleasant and sympathetic that I wanted her to stay.
“Then I know: you’ve been breaking bounds. Oh dear, boys will be boys, and it’s quite natural, my dear, for you to want to get away, and run where you like. I don’t wonder, shut up as you all are, like being in a cage. There, don’t you fret, and it’ll all come right. I’ll see that you have something beside bread and water. Bread and water, indeed! Such stuff as is only to cook with. Why, they might just as well feed you on flour.”
“What time is it, Cook?” I asked.
“Just gone six, my dear; and there: I mustn’t stop gossiping, for I’ve my fire to light, my kitchen to do; but I hate people to be miserable. I can’t abide it. There’s plenty of worries with one’s work, as I told missus only yesterday. There, good-bye, and don’t you fret.”
I heard the rustling of her dress as she went along the passage, and I stood by the door till it died away, feeling sad but pleased, for it was satisfactory to know that there were people about the place who cared for me. But I felt more low-spirited directly as I thought of what she might say as soon as she knew the real cause of why I was a prisoner.
The bell rang for rising, and I heard some of the boys soon after out in their gardens; then, as I stood back from the window, I caught sight of one or two, and after a while heard the increasing hum and buzz of voices, and knew that some of them must be getting up lessons that had been neglected over-night. And as I listened, I thought of the times when I had murmured and felt dissatisfied at being obliged to give so much time to such work, whereas now I was envying the happy boys who were seated at study, with no greater care upon their minds.
Perhaps I was learning a great lesson then, one that I did not know.
The time went on very slowly, and it seemed many hours since I awoke, when the breakfast-bell rang, and I sat picturing the scene, and fancying I could hear the boys talking and the mugs and spoons clattering, as the great piles of bread and butter disappeared.
I was just thinking this when there were steps in the passage, and soon after the key was rattled in the lock, Mr Rebble appeared, and with him one of the maids, with a tray on which was a mug and a plate of bread and butter.
He did not look at me, only admitted the maid to set down the tray, saw her out, and I was locked in again.
It was very much like the old time, but Tom Mercer was not there to lighten my loneliness.
As the door closed, I noticed that the mug was steaming, and found that I was not to have prison fare though I was a prisoner, for my breakfast was precisely the same as that of the other boys.
“I can’t touch it,” I said, “It is impossible to eat.”
But I was feverishly thirsty, and I took up the mug of milk, just made warm by the addition of some boiling water. It was pleasantly sweet, too, and I half fancied that Cook had put in an extra quantity of sugar.
More from habit than anything else, for I felt sick and full of distaste for food, I broke off a piece of bread and butter and began to eat it mechanically, and now knew that I was right, for, instead of the salt butter we generally had, this was fresh and sweet. Cook had certainly been favouring me, and that scrap led to the finishing of the slice, and finally to the disappearance of all that was on the plate, while the last drop of milk and water was drained from the big mug.
As soon as the breakfast was finished, a morbid feeling of vexation came over me. I was angry because I had touched it, and wished that I had sulked, and shown myself too much injured to go on as if nothing had happened. But it was too late then.
After a while, Mr Rebble came back, looking very severe. He watched the maid as she took the tray, but the girl gave me a sympathetic look, and then I was once more left alone.
Hard people think they do not,—they say, “Oh, he’s only a boy; he’ll soon forget,”—but boys suffer mentally as keenly, or more keenly, than grown people. Of course they do, for everything about them is young, tender, and easily wounded. I know that they soon recover from some mental injury. Naturally. They are young and elastic, and the sapling, if bent down, springs up again, but for the time they suffer cruelly.
I know I did, shut up there in disgrace, and, as I sat or walked about my prison, it made no difference to me that it was a plainly furnished, neat bedroom, for it was as prison-like to me in my vein as if the floor had been stone, the door of iron-clamped oak with rusty hinges. And as I moved about the place, I began to understand how prisoners gladly made friends with spiders, mice, and rats, or employed themselves cutting their names on the walls, carving pieces of wood, or writing long histories.
But I had no insects or animals to amuse me, no wood to carve, no stone walls upon which to chisel my name.
I had only been a prisoner for a few hours, you may say.
Quite true, but, oh, what hours they were, and what agony I suffered from my thoughts!
I spent most of my time at the window, forcing myself to think of how things were going on in school, and I pictured the boys at their lessons—at the Doctor’s desk at Mr Rebble’s, and Mr Hasnip’s. It was German day, too, and I thought about our quaint foreign master, and about Lomax drilling the boys in the afternoon. He would be asking them where I was; and the question arose in my mind, would the boys tell him, or would they have had orders, as we did once before, about a year back, when a pupil disgraced himself, not to mention the affair outside the school walls.
My spirits rose a little at this, for it would be horrible for Lomax to know, and go and think it over. And I seemed to know that he would take it more to heart about me than if it were any other boy, for I was to be a soldier, and, as he would have expressed it, “One of ours.”
Dinner-time at last—the bell ringing, and the shouts and cries of the boys, “All in! all in!” though we used to want very little calling for meals.
After a time, my dinner was brought up, as my breakfast had been, in silence, and I felt then that I should have liked Mr Rebble to speak, if it had only been to bully. But he did not so much as look at me, only stalked into the room and out again.
Who was going to eat and enjoy a dinner, brought like that?
“It’s like an animal in a cage being fed,” I said angrily; and I was quite angry because the roast beef, potatoes, and greens smelt so nice that I was obliged to sit down and eat and enjoy the meal, for I was very hungry.
After the tray had been fetched, I made up my mind that at any minute now the Doctor might send for me, to give me a severe examination, and I shivered at the idea of being forced to speak out, and say everything I knew. I wished now that it was dark, so that I might have attempted to escape, if only to avoid that meeting. But it was impossible. Even if I could get off the lock, I should be seen, for certain, and brought back in an ignominious fashion, that would be terrible.
But the afternoon wore away, as I sat listening to the shouts of the boys at play, thinking bitterly of how little they thought of me shut up there; and I began wondering where Mercer was, little thinking that he was watching me; but he was, sure enough, for, just close upon tea-time, I caught sight of him, lying down upon his chest, where he had crawled unseen among the shrubs, and there he was, with his elbows on the ground and his chin in his hands, watching me, just as a faithful dog might his master.
I shrank away from the window, as soon as I saw him, and then waited till the bell rang for tea, when I peeped out again, to see that he was gone, but I could trace him by the movement of the laurels, bays, and lilacs, whose branches were thrust aside as he crept through.
“He’ll come back again after tea,” I thought, and I was right. I had only just finished my own, brought up as before, when, glancing from the window, there I saw him, gazing up at me like a whipped dog, asking to be taken into favour once again.
“Why hasn’t the Doctor sent for me?” I asked myself; but I could find only one reason,—he meant me to come to his study quite late in the evening.
But he did not, and that dreary time passed slowly away, as I watched the darkness come on, and the stars peer out one by one. Then I saw the moon rise far away over the sea, shining brightly, till the sky grew cloudy, as my life seemed now to be.
But no footstep—no summons to go down to the Doctor’s room, and, though I kept on fancying that I heard steps on the stairs, I was always deceived, and it was not until I heard the bell ring for prayers and bed, that I knew I should not have to meet the Doctor that night.
There were steps enough now in the corridors and on the stairs, and I sat near the door, for the sake of the company, naming the boys to myself, as I recognised the voices. But I shrank away once, as two boys stopped by my door, and I heard them say,—
“Wonder how old Burr junior’s getting on?”
“Ah! he’s in for it now. Don’t talk, or he’ll hear us.”
They passed on, and I heard their door close, after which there was a loud scuffling and bumping from the other sides accompanied by smothered laughter and dull blows.
I knew directly what was going on, and sighed, as I recalled how many times I had engaged in the forbidden joys of a bolstering match.
Their merriment only made me feel the pain the more bitterly, and I was glad when I heard a familiar cough at the end of the passage, and the tapping of a stick on the floor.
All was silent in an instant, and by degrees every murmur died away, and I lay down and slept heavily, for mine was weary trouble. There was no guilty conscience to keep me awake.