Chapter Twenty Eight.How Nemesis makes her final call.Our heroes, as they returned arm-in-arm from the trial of Tom White, were conscious that in proportion as the troubles behind them diminished, those ahead loomed out big and ominous.They had escaped transportation; at least, so they told one another; and although, when all was said and done, they had not done much towards righting Tom White or recovering theMarthastill, somehow, Nemesis had been “choked off” in that direction.But when they turned their faces from what lay behind to the immediate future, their hearts failed them. They had staked high for the “Sociables.” Their run with the Harriers had been no trifle: and far more important was the general attention it had drawn to themselves, and to their efforts to get into, the select company. Their candidature was a master of public notoriety, and if Pledge should at the last moment carry out his threat, their fall would be sad in proportion.When they reached Templeton they found the place in a ferment. Fellows were going about with pencils and paper, making up their lists.“I say,” said Pauncefote, waylaying our heroes as they entered the Den; “vote for us, I say. I’ll vote for you.”“Oh, ah!” said Dick; “that means we give you three votes, and you only give us one. See any green? You get a couple of other chaps to stick us down, and then we’ll do it.”Pauncefote, rather bewildered by this way of putting the matter, went off immediately, and canvassed actively among his particular friends on behalf of the “Firm;” which was very kind of him, as several fellows told him.“Look here, you fellows,” said Gosse, approaching the “Firm” with a troubled face, “doyou know anybody in the lower Fourth who isn’t a cad? I’ve got down all the other forms, but I can’t get a single decent name for the lower Fourth.”“Aspinall,” said Dick.“But he’s such a muff. I’d be ashamed to put him down.”“Aspinall would lick you left-handed at tennis, and knows more Greek than you know English,” said Dick, hotly; for he always looked upon the Devonshire boy as a credit to his protecting arm. “If you call that being a muff, well, he is one, and you aren’t, that’s all.”Gosse received this judgment with attention, and went off to have a private look at Aspinall at close quarters.“Oh, I say, Dick,” said Raggles, whom our heroes presently found absorbed in the deepest study; “here’s a go! We’ve only got to put down six in each form, and I’ve got a dozen down for ours, and don’t see I can cut any of them out.”“Let’s hear their names,” said Dick.“All serene! Raggles—”“By Jove, that’s modest! You’re determinedhe’sto have one vote.”“Oh, you know, I believe I’m safe; but, of course, everybody votes for himself.”“Go on. Who are the rest?”“Raggles, Culver, Pauncefote, Smith, Gosse, Starkey, Crisp, Calverly, Strahan, Jobling, Cazenove, and—well, I thought of sticking down one of you three for the twelfth.”“Thanks,” said Dick. “We aren’t particular, are we, you chaps?”“I’m not,” said Coote. “You can stick me down if you like, Rag.”Raggles, finding not much assistance forthcoming to help him in his difficulty, retired to a quiet corner, and privately tossed up for each name in succession. As his penny came down “tails” persistently both for himself and everybody else, except Gosse, he resorted to the less risky method of shutting his eyes, and dropping six blots on his paper. This happy expedient was only partially successful, as none of the blots fell anywhere near any of the names. Finally, as time was growing short, he put down his own name on the paper, and resolved to sacrifice his other votes. And when he had done it, he rather wondered the idea had never struck him before.Our heroes meanwhile were busy with their own lists, which, under Dick’s guiding influence, rapidly filled up with a set of good names. When it came to their own Form they agreed that, being a “Firm” and all “in it,” they were entitled each of them to vote for the “Firm” as a body; which they did amid much mutual rejoicing.At a quarter to four the big Hall began to fill. Everybody was there. Fellows who were on the list, sanguine, anxious, touchy; fellows who were not on the list, cross, sarcastic, righteous. Nearly every one had his paper in his hand, which he furtively glanced through for the last time before the summons to deposit it in the basket on the platform.As before, the Sixth took rank as ordinary Templetonians, and no distinction was made between monitor and junior, eligible and non-eligible.When the clock struck there were loud cries for Freckleton, who accordingly ascended the dais, and, after waiting patiently for order, proceeded to explain the order of election.“I suppose,” said he, “all of us who mean to vote have by this time filled up our papers with the names of the fellows we think most worthy to be elected on the new Club. You’d better have a last look to see you haven’t put down more than thirty names altogether, and that there are not more than six in any one Form. Also make sure you have none of you signed your names to the papers, as this is secret voting, and it’s not supposed to be known how any one has voted. Now, will fellows come up by benches and drop their papers into the basket?”The front bench, consisting chiefly of Sixth-form fellows, obeyed the invitation, and deposited their papers in the receptacle. The rest of the meeting could not forbear the luxury of a few cheers as popular and unpopular seniors presented themselves; but, on the whole, the ceremony was gone through rapidly and in an orderly fashion.Among the juniors, the Firm walked solemnly up the room amid cheers and cries of “Well run, puppies!” and gave in their votes. They glanced nervously round at Pledge, where he sat with a sneer on his face, and did not like the looks of him. The sneer they would have thought nothing of, but there was a serious, half-determined look about him which was ominous.“The beast!” whispered Dick. “He’s going to do something.”“Ugh!” said Georgie, “to think I ever liked him!”“Now,” said Freckleton, when the voting was over, “to insure the counting being fairly done, I propose that three fellows who have not had the good luck to be on the list be asked to count. I dare say they won’t grudge the trouble, and it will be satisfactory to everybody to know they see fair play for the rest.” (Hear, hear.) “Will any three fellows volunteer?”Five stood up.“Will you five choose three among you?” said Freckleton.This was soon done, and the scrutineers were in a few moments buried in their work, watched eagerly by many anxious eyes.It took a good while, but to our heroes, as they sat and watched Pledge’s ugly look, the end seemed to come all too soon.There was a loud hum of excitement when the list, as finally made out, was handed solemnly to Freckleton.“I think, if you don’t mind,” said the Hermit, passing it back, “as I am an interested party, it would be better if one of you read it.”“All right,” said the obliging scrutineer. “Gentlemen,—Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I beg to read you the list of the Sociables’ Club. I don’t see my own name on the list, but perhaps you’ll consider the fag we three have been put to this afternoon is a public service for the good of Templeton. If so, please remember the poor scrutineers at the next election.” (Cheers and laughter.) “Now for the list.”“Better only read the names of the elected ones in each form, and not the number of votes,” suggested Freckleton.“Lucky Freckleton said so,” remarked the scrutineer, “or I should have told you that his name is at the top of the poll by a very long start.” (Tremendous cheers.) “But, as I’m not to let out figures, all I can say is, he’s in. And so are Crossfield, Cartwright, Swinstead, Frith, and Mansfield for the Sixth-Form.”It was curious to notice the effect of this announcement on the meeting generally and on the boys specially concerned. As name followed name without that of the Captain, fellows looked round at one another in something like consternation. After all, the Captain of Templetonwasthe Captain of Templeton, and those who had not voted for him had made sure other fellows would. But when five names were read out, and it was found that even Swinstead and Frith were elected, a sudden tide of repentance set in, which found vent in an unexpected cheer as the Captain’s name followed. Templeton felt it had had a narrow escape of making itself foolish, and the cheer was quite as much one of relief as of congratulation.Mansfield may have understood it. He had kept his eyes steadily on the reader, with a slight flush on his quiet face, and fellows who watched him could not tell whether the peculiar gleam which passed his eyes as his name was read was one of triumph or vexation. Whatever it was, every one knew the Captain would be altered neither in purpose nor motive by the incident. Jupiter would be Jupiter still, whether in Olympus or out of it; and Templeton, on the whole, felt that, had the vote gone otherwise, it would have had quite as much blushing to do as the defeated hero.The scrutineer continued his list in order of forms. Of our particular acquaintance, Birket, Hooker, Duffield, Braider, and Aspinall all got safely “landed,” while Bull, Wrangham, and Spokes were passed over.Templeton, in fact, was a very good judge of honour when it was put to the choice, and even the enemies of the new Club could not help admitting that the best men, on the whole, were the elected ones.A grim silence fell on the Hall as the scrutineer said—“Now, Gentlemen, the Upper Third. The following are elected:—“Richardson.”Dick caught his breath and felt he dared not move a muscle. Pledge was looking that way, and, as the boy’s eyes and his enemy’s met, the cheers of the Den sounded feeble, and the shouts of the Firm were spiritless.“Pauncefote.”Dick started again at this and shook off the spell that was upon him. How dared Pauncefote come between him and his Firm? If fellows voted for him—Dick—what on earth did they mean by not voting also for Georgie and Coote? He faced defiantly round towards the reader and waited for the next name.“Smith.”Dick quailed as he listened to the mighty cheer with which Pauncefote welcomed his chum into the realms of the Select. Pauncefote and Smith were partners; they hunted in couples, they wrote novels together: and here they were side by side, while the “Firm” was cruelly severed member from member. Surely Nemesis was having a fling too many if this was her doing!“Heathcote.”“Ah! about time, too,” thought Dick, as he raised his voice in a defiant cheer. He’d like a quiet five minutes with the fellows who had dared to pass his chum by in the voting. But, at any rate, Georgie was safe, and, if only Coote came next, the “Firm” could afford to snap its fingers at its constituents.“Cazenove.”What! fat Cazenove jammed in between the “Firm” and its junior partner! Dick and Georgie glared at him, scarcely able to repress a howl at the sight of his smiling expanse of countenance. It had never occurred to any of them that the ballot may part friends whom not even a sentence of transportation could have severed, and they looked on, now more than half bewildered, as the scrutineer read out the sixth name.“For the sixth place,” said he, “there appears to be a dead-heat. Calverly and Coote have both the same number of votes. What’s to be done, mighty Lycurgus?”“Say you retire!” shouted Dick to the astonished Calverly, on whom the announcement had fallen with as much surprise as it had on his friends.“Don’t you do anything of the sort,” shouted Gosse; “you’re are as good as that lot. Stick in!”“Of course he will,” shouted others.So Calverly announced he would stick in, and Coote had better retire, a suggestion Coote did not even condescend to notice. He was in his “Firm’s” hands, and the “Firm” were determined to fight the thing out till they had not a toe to stand on.“The simplest way,” said Freckleton, “is to vote again for the two. What do you say, gentlemen of the Den?”“All right,” roared the Den.“What’s it to be: ballot or show of hands?”“Show of hands,” shouted most of them.“Do you agree to show of hands, you two,” said Freckleton, “or would you sooner have ballot?”“I’d rather have show of hands,” said Calverly.“So would Coote,” shouted Dick and Georgie.“Then those who vote for Calverly hold up one hand,” said Freckleton.It was a big show, and the scrutineers, as they went from bench to bench, counted 141.“Now for Coote.”Every one could see it was a terribly close affair. As Dick and Georgie scanned the benches, their hearts sank at the sight of so many not voting.“Another dead-heat, I expect,” said Pauncefote.The suggestion drove Dick almost frantic. Cootemustcome in, or the consequences would be awful.“Now, you fellows,” he cried, starting up and addressing Templeton generally, as the scrutineers started on their rounds, “all together for old Coote! Don’t forget his trot with the Harriers!”This simple election speech called forth a cheer, and, better still, sent up two or three more hands.Loud cries of “Order” from the top end of the room prevented any further appeal, and amid dead silence the scrutineers finished their work.“For Coote,” announced the spokesman, “there are 146.”Then did the “Firm” go mad, and lose their heads. Then did they yell till their throats were hoarse, and wave their hands till their arms ached.Then did they link arms, as they sat victorious, and forget the sorrows of a term in that one paean of victory.“Very close,” they heard Freckleton say, as soon as order was restored. “Are you satisfied, Calverly?”Woe betide Calverly had he ventured to be otherwise!“All right,” he said, meekly, cowed by the mighty triumph of the “Firm.”“Then Coote is in,” announced the scrutineers.The election was over, and Freckleton was about to disperse the meeting, when it was noticed Pledge was on his legs, trying to speak.A low hiss and groan went round the Hall, but curiosity to hear what the deposed monitor had to say at such a time restored order.Three boys alone knew what it all meant, and their faces blanched, and their limbs shook, as they looked out from their retreat and awaited their fate.“Perhaps,” said Pledge, “as this is a public meeting, you will allow me, though I have not the proud honour of being a ‘Sociable,’ and although I believe I am not a monitor either, to ask a question. I assure you I do it in the interests of Templeton, and of your immaculate Club. I don’t suppose any one will thank me for doing it, and I am glad to say I have ceased to expect thanks. You may attribute any motive you like to me; the worse it is, probably, the better you will be satisfied. I certainly shall not trouble to tell you my motive, except that it is for your good. All I want to ask is, whether this meeting is aware that three members of the new Club are at this moment under the eyes of the police, for a disgraceful act of theft committed in the town; and, if so, whether you think that fact increases their claims to become members of a Club which is to be a credit to Templeton?”The speech was heard in dead silence. But as it closed, a storm broke forth from all quarters of the Hall.“Name! Sneak! Cad! Name!”The angry spots blazed out in Pledge’s cheeks as he faced the storm and heard the cries.“You want the names, do you? You think, perhaps, I do not dare to give them. I do dare, though I stand here single-handed. The three boys are Richardson, Heathcote, and Coote, and if you don’t believe me, ask them.”Another dead silence followed this announcement, and all eyes turned to where the “Firm” sat, pale and quivering.Before, however, they could say a word, Mansfield rose, and stepped up on to the platform.“Pledge has, for reasons best known to himself, charged three boys here with theft. Unlike his usual manner, he makes the charge in public before the whole school; and that being so, it is only fair the whole school should hear from him and his witnesses, if he has any, what the theft is.”The Captain’s words were greeted with cries of approval from the meeting, and every one turned now to Pledge.He stood a moment irresolute, scowling at his arch-enemy, and longing to be able to include him in the accusation he brought against hisprotégés. Then, with a half-swagger, he stepped on to the platform.“If the Captain thinks I’m afraid to do what he asks, he’s mistaken. I don’t believe in hole-and-corner business. And as he has challenged me to accuse his three young friends in public and bring my witness, I will do both.”“What witness?” groaned Heathcote, in a whisper to Dick.“Don’t talk to me,” hissed Dick, between his teeth.“Go on,” said Mansfield, to the accuser.“Thank you. So I will. A fortnight ago, gentlemen, a small boy went down to Templeton—”“Wait!” interposed Mansfield, “we must have names. What boy?”“A small boy named Coote,” began Pledge.Coote, at the sound of his name, half-bounded from his seat. He knew he was “in it.” But what on earth had any proceedings of his a fortnight ago to do with the loss of theMartha?“Went down to Templeton to a shop—”“What shop?” demanded Mansfield.“To Webster’s shop,” replied Pledge, beginning to be ruffled by the Captain’s determined manner.The “Firm” started suddenly. Whatever was coming?“While spending his time in the shop, the young gentleman, as young gentlemen sometimes do, stole a silver pencil.”There was a pause, and every eye turned towards Coote, who gaped at the announcement and stared at his partners as if he had been confronted with a ghost.On Dick’s countenance a curious change was taking place. Horror had already given way to bewilderment, and bewilderment was in turn giving way to something which actually looked like a grin.“The young gentleman,” proceeded Pledge, “had two dear friends, called Richardson and Heathcote, to whom he confided his stroke of business, and who joined him in concealing or disposing of the stolen article.”Dick could remain silent no longer. To the horror of his Firm, and the bewilderment of every one else—most of all, Pledge—he burst into a laugh, which sounded weird in the dead silence.“Order!” cried Mansfield, sternly. “Go on, Pledge.”“I heard of the theft from the—from Webster immediately after it occurred, and for the last fortnight have been watching the culprits—”Here he was interrupted by a hiss, which the Captain immediately suppressed.“And they have actually admitted their guilt in begging me not to tell of them to you.”At this point Dick started up excitedly, and began—“I should like to say—”But the Captain stopped him.“You will be heard shortly. First of all we must hear Pledge’s witness.”“Certainly. I told Webster to call up at half-past four. He doesn’t know what for. You’d better have him in. I’ll go and fetch him.”“No,” said the Captain. “Aspinall, will you ask him to come in?”
Our heroes, as they returned arm-in-arm from the trial of Tom White, were conscious that in proportion as the troubles behind them diminished, those ahead loomed out big and ominous.
They had escaped transportation; at least, so they told one another; and although, when all was said and done, they had not done much towards righting Tom White or recovering theMarthastill, somehow, Nemesis had been “choked off” in that direction.
But when they turned their faces from what lay behind to the immediate future, their hearts failed them. They had staked high for the “Sociables.” Their run with the Harriers had been no trifle: and far more important was the general attention it had drawn to themselves, and to their efforts to get into, the select company. Their candidature was a master of public notoriety, and if Pledge should at the last moment carry out his threat, their fall would be sad in proportion.
When they reached Templeton they found the place in a ferment. Fellows were going about with pencils and paper, making up their lists.
“I say,” said Pauncefote, waylaying our heroes as they entered the Den; “vote for us, I say. I’ll vote for you.”
“Oh, ah!” said Dick; “that means we give you three votes, and you only give us one. See any green? You get a couple of other chaps to stick us down, and then we’ll do it.”
Pauncefote, rather bewildered by this way of putting the matter, went off immediately, and canvassed actively among his particular friends on behalf of the “Firm;” which was very kind of him, as several fellows told him.
“Look here, you fellows,” said Gosse, approaching the “Firm” with a troubled face, “doyou know anybody in the lower Fourth who isn’t a cad? I’ve got down all the other forms, but I can’t get a single decent name for the lower Fourth.”
“Aspinall,” said Dick.
“But he’s such a muff. I’d be ashamed to put him down.”
“Aspinall would lick you left-handed at tennis, and knows more Greek than you know English,” said Dick, hotly; for he always looked upon the Devonshire boy as a credit to his protecting arm. “If you call that being a muff, well, he is one, and you aren’t, that’s all.”
Gosse received this judgment with attention, and went off to have a private look at Aspinall at close quarters.
“Oh, I say, Dick,” said Raggles, whom our heroes presently found absorbed in the deepest study; “here’s a go! We’ve only got to put down six in each form, and I’ve got a dozen down for ours, and don’t see I can cut any of them out.”
“Let’s hear their names,” said Dick.
“All serene! Raggles—”
“By Jove, that’s modest! You’re determinedhe’sto have one vote.”
“Oh, you know, I believe I’m safe; but, of course, everybody votes for himself.”
“Go on. Who are the rest?”
“Raggles, Culver, Pauncefote, Smith, Gosse, Starkey, Crisp, Calverly, Strahan, Jobling, Cazenove, and—well, I thought of sticking down one of you three for the twelfth.”
“Thanks,” said Dick. “We aren’t particular, are we, you chaps?”
“I’m not,” said Coote. “You can stick me down if you like, Rag.”
Raggles, finding not much assistance forthcoming to help him in his difficulty, retired to a quiet corner, and privately tossed up for each name in succession. As his penny came down “tails” persistently both for himself and everybody else, except Gosse, he resorted to the less risky method of shutting his eyes, and dropping six blots on his paper. This happy expedient was only partially successful, as none of the blots fell anywhere near any of the names. Finally, as time was growing short, he put down his own name on the paper, and resolved to sacrifice his other votes. And when he had done it, he rather wondered the idea had never struck him before.
Our heroes meanwhile were busy with their own lists, which, under Dick’s guiding influence, rapidly filled up with a set of good names. When it came to their own Form they agreed that, being a “Firm” and all “in it,” they were entitled each of them to vote for the “Firm” as a body; which they did amid much mutual rejoicing.
At a quarter to four the big Hall began to fill. Everybody was there. Fellows who were on the list, sanguine, anxious, touchy; fellows who were not on the list, cross, sarcastic, righteous. Nearly every one had his paper in his hand, which he furtively glanced through for the last time before the summons to deposit it in the basket on the platform.
As before, the Sixth took rank as ordinary Templetonians, and no distinction was made between monitor and junior, eligible and non-eligible.
When the clock struck there were loud cries for Freckleton, who accordingly ascended the dais, and, after waiting patiently for order, proceeded to explain the order of election.
“I suppose,” said he, “all of us who mean to vote have by this time filled up our papers with the names of the fellows we think most worthy to be elected on the new Club. You’d better have a last look to see you haven’t put down more than thirty names altogether, and that there are not more than six in any one Form. Also make sure you have none of you signed your names to the papers, as this is secret voting, and it’s not supposed to be known how any one has voted. Now, will fellows come up by benches and drop their papers into the basket?”
The front bench, consisting chiefly of Sixth-form fellows, obeyed the invitation, and deposited their papers in the receptacle. The rest of the meeting could not forbear the luxury of a few cheers as popular and unpopular seniors presented themselves; but, on the whole, the ceremony was gone through rapidly and in an orderly fashion.
Among the juniors, the Firm walked solemnly up the room amid cheers and cries of “Well run, puppies!” and gave in their votes. They glanced nervously round at Pledge, where he sat with a sneer on his face, and did not like the looks of him. The sneer they would have thought nothing of, but there was a serious, half-determined look about him which was ominous.
“The beast!” whispered Dick. “He’s going to do something.”
“Ugh!” said Georgie, “to think I ever liked him!”
“Now,” said Freckleton, when the voting was over, “to insure the counting being fairly done, I propose that three fellows who have not had the good luck to be on the list be asked to count. I dare say they won’t grudge the trouble, and it will be satisfactory to everybody to know they see fair play for the rest.” (Hear, hear.) “Will any three fellows volunteer?”
Five stood up.
“Will you five choose three among you?” said Freckleton.
This was soon done, and the scrutineers were in a few moments buried in their work, watched eagerly by many anxious eyes.
It took a good while, but to our heroes, as they sat and watched Pledge’s ugly look, the end seemed to come all too soon.
There was a loud hum of excitement when the list, as finally made out, was handed solemnly to Freckleton.
“I think, if you don’t mind,” said the Hermit, passing it back, “as I am an interested party, it would be better if one of you read it.”
“All right,” said the obliging scrutineer. “Gentlemen,—Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I beg to read you the list of the Sociables’ Club. I don’t see my own name on the list, but perhaps you’ll consider the fag we three have been put to this afternoon is a public service for the good of Templeton. If so, please remember the poor scrutineers at the next election.” (Cheers and laughter.) “Now for the list.”
“Better only read the names of the elected ones in each form, and not the number of votes,” suggested Freckleton.
“Lucky Freckleton said so,” remarked the scrutineer, “or I should have told you that his name is at the top of the poll by a very long start.” (Tremendous cheers.) “But, as I’m not to let out figures, all I can say is, he’s in. And so are Crossfield, Cartwright, Swinstead, Frith, and Mansfield for the Sixth-Form.”
It was curious to notice the effect of this announcement on the meeting generally and on the boys specially concerned. As name followed name without that of the Captain, fellows looked round at one another in something like consternation. After all, the Captain of Templetonwasthe Captain of Templeton, and those who had not voted for him had made sure other fellows would. But when five names were read out, and it was found that even Swinstead and Frith were elected, a sudden tide of repentance set in, which found vent in an unexpected cheer as the Captain’s name followed. Templeton felt it had had a narrow escape of making itself foolish, and the cheer was quite as much one of relief as of congratulation.
Mansfield may have understood it. He had kept his eyes steadily on the reader, with a slight flush on his quiet face, and fellows who watched him could not tell whether the peculiar gleam which passed his eyes as his name was read was one of triumph or vexation. Whatever it was, every one knew the Captain would be altered neither in purpose nor motive by the incident. Jupiter would be Jupiter still, whether in Olympus or out of it; and Templeton, on the whole, felt that, had the vote gone otherwise, it would have had quite as much blushing to do as the defeated hero.
The scrutineer continued his list in order of forms. Of our particular acquaintance, Birket, Hooker, Duffield, Braider, and Aspinall all got safely “landed,” while Bull, Wrangham, and Spokes were passed over.
Templeton, in fact, was a very good judge of honour when it was put to the choice, and even the enemies of the new Club could not help admitting that the best men, on the whole, were the elected ones.
A grim silence fell on the Hall as the scrutineer said—
“Now, Gentlemen, the Upper Third. The following are elected:—
“Richardson.”
Dick caught his breath and felt he dared not move a muscle. Pledge was looking that way, and, as the boy’s eyes and his enemy’s met, the cheers of the Den sounded feeble, and the shouts of the Firm were spiritless.
“Pauncefote.”
Dick started again at this and shook off the spell that was upon him. How dared Pauncefote come between him and his Firm? If fellows voted for him—Dick—what on earth did they mean by not voting also for Georgie and Coote? He faced defiantly round towards the reader and waited for the next name.
“Smith.”
Dick quailed as he listened to the mighty cheer with which Pauncefote welcomed his chum into the realms of the Select. Pauncefote and Smith were partners; they hunted in couples, they wrote novels together: and here they were side by side, while the “Firm” was cruelly severed member from member. Surely Nemesis was having a fling too many if this was her doing!
“Heathcote.”
“Ah! about time, too,” thought Dick, as he raised his voice in a defiant cheer. He’d like a quiet five minutes with the fellows who had dared to pass his chum by in the voting. But, at any rate, Georgie was safe, and, if only Coote came next, the “Firm” could afford to snap its fingers at its constituents.
“Cazenove.”
What! fat Cazenove jammed in between the “Firm” and its junior partner! Dick and Georgie glared at him, scarcely able to repress a howl at the sight of his smiling expanse of countenance. It had never occurred to any of them that the ballot may part friends whom not even a sentence of transportation could have severed, and they looked on, now more than half bewildered, as the scrutineer read out the sixth name.
“For the sixth place,” said he, “there appears to be a dead-heat. Calverly and Coote have both the same number of votes. What’s to be done, mighty Lycurgus?”
“Say you retire!” shouted Dick to the astonished Calverly, on whom the announcement had fallen with as much surprise as it had on his friends.
“Don’t you do anything of the sort,” shouted Gosse; “you’re are as good as that lot. Stick in!”
“Of course he will,” shouted others.
So Calverly announced he would stick in, and Coote had better retire, a suggestion Coote did not even condescend to notice. He was in his “Firm’s” hands, and the “Firm” were determined to fight the thing out till they had not a toe to stand on.
“The simplest way,” said Freckleton, “is to vote again for the two. What do you say, gentlemen of the Den?”
“All right,” roared the Den.
“What’s it to be: ballot or show of hands?”
“Show of hands,” shouted most of them.
“Do you agree to show of hands, you two,” said Freckleton, “or would you sooner have ballot?”
“I’d rather have show of hands,” said Calverly.
“So would Coote,” shouted Dick and Georgie.
“Then those who vote for Calverly hold up one hand,” said Freckleton.
It was a big show, and the scrutineers, as they went from bench to bench, counted 141.
“Now for Coote.”
Every one could see it was a terribly close affair. As Dick and Georgie scanned the benches, their hearts sank at the sight of so many not voting.
“Another dead-heat, I expect,” said Pauncefote.
The suggestion drove Dick almost frantic. Cootemustcome in, or the consequences would be awful.
“Now, you fellows,” he cried, starting up and addressing Templeton generally, as the scrutineers started on their rounds, “all together for old Coote! Don’t forget his trot with the Harriers!”
This simple election speech called forth a cheer, and, better still, sent up two or three more hands.
Loud cries of “Order” from the top end of the room prevented any further appeal, and amid dead silence the scrutineers finished their work.
“For Coote,” announced the spokesman, “there are 146.”
Then did the “Firm” go mad, and lose their heads. Then did they yell till their throats were hoarse, and wave their hands till their arms ached.
Then did they link arms, as they sat victorious, and forget the sorrows of a term in that one paean of victory.
“Very close,” they heard Freckleton say, as soon as order was restored. “Are you satisfied, Calverly?”
Woe betide Calverly had he ventured to be otherwise!
“All right,” he said, meekly, cowed by the mighty triumph of the “Firm.”
“Then Coote is in,” announced the scrutineers.
The election was over, and Freckleton was about to disperse the meeting, when it was noticed Pledge was on his legs, trying to speak.
A low hiss and groan went round the Hall, but curiosity to hear what the deposed monitor had to say at such a time restored order.
Three boys alone knew what it all meant, and their faces blanched, and their limbs shook, as they looked out from their retreat and awaited their fate.
“Perhaps,” said Pledge, “as this is a public meeting, you will allow me, though I have not the proud honour of being a ‘Sociable,’ and although I believe I am not a monitor either, to ask a question. I assure you I do it in the interests of Templeton, and of your immaculate Club. I don’t suppose any one will thank me for doing it, and I am glad to say I have ceased to expect thanks. You may attribute any motive you like to me; the worse it is, probably, the better you will be satisfied. I certainly shall not trouble to tell you my motive, except that it is for your good. All I want to ask is, whether this meeting is aware that three members of the new Club are at this moment under the eyes of the police, for a disgraceful act of theft committed in the town; and, if so, whether you think that fact increases their claims to become members of a Club which is to be a credit to Templeton?”
The speech was heard in dead silence. But as it closed, a storm broke forth from all quarters of the Hall.
“Name! Sneak! Cad! Name!”
The angry spots blazed out in Pledge’s cheeks as he faced the storm and heard the cries.
“You want the names, do you? You think, perhaps, I do not dare to give them. I do dare, though I stand here single-handed. The three boys are Richardson, Heathcote, and Coote, and if you don’t believe me, ask them.”
Another dead silence followed this announcement, and all eyes turned to where the “Firm” sat, pale and quivering.
Before, however, they could say a word, Mansfield rose, and stepped up on to the platform.
“Pledge has, for reasons best known to himself, charged three boys here with theft. Unlike his usual manner, he makes the charge in public before the whole school; and that being so, it is only fair the whole school should hear from him and his witnesses, if he has any, what the theft is.”
The Captain’s words were greeted with cries of approval from the meeting, and every one turned now to Pledge.
He stood a moment irresolute, scowling at his arch-enemy, and longing to be able to include him in the accusation he brought against hisprotégés. Then, with a half-swagger, he stepped on to the platform.
“If the Captain thinks I’m afraid to do what he asks, he’s mistaken. I don’t believe in hole-and-corner business. And as he has challenged me to accuse his three young friends in public and bring my witness, I will do both.”
“What witness?” groaned Heathcote, in a whisper to Dick.
“Don’t talk to me,” hissed Dick, between his teeth.
“Go on,” said Mansfield, to the accuser.
“Thank you. So I will. A fortnight ago, gentlemen, a small boy went down to Templeton—”
“Wait!” interposed Mansfield, “we must have names. What boy?”
“A small boy named Coote,” began Pledge.
Coote, at the sound of his name, half-bounded from his seat. He knew he was “in it.” But what on earth had any proceedings of his a fortnight ago to do with the loss of theMartha?
“Went down to Templeton to a shop—”
“What shop?” demanded Mansfield.
“To Webster’s shop,” replied Pledge, beginning to be ruffled by the Captain’s determined manner.
The “Firm” started suddenly. Whatever was coming?
“While spending his time in the shop, the young gentleman, as young gentlemen sometimes do, stole a silver pencil.”
There was a pause, and every eye turned towards Coote, who gaped at the announcement and stared at his partners as if he had been confronted with a ghost.
On Dick’s countenance a curious change was taking place. Horror had already given way to bewilderment, and bewilderment was in turn giving way to something which actually looked like a grin.
“The young gentleman,” proceeded Pledge, “had two dear friends, called Richardson and Heathcote, to whom he confided his stroke of business, and who joined him in concealing or disposing of the stolen article.”
Dick could remain silent no longer. To the horror of his Firm, and the bewilderment of every one else—most of all, Pledge—he burst into a laugh, which sounded weird in the dead silence.
“Order!” cried Mansfield, sternly. “Go on, Pledge.”
“I heard of the theft from the—from Webster immediately after it occurred, and for the last fortnight have been watching the culprits—”
Here he was interrupted by a hiss, which the Captain immediately suppressed.
“And they have actually admitted their guilt in begging me not to tell of them to you.”
At this point Dick started up excitedly, and began—
“I should like to say—”
But the Captain stopped him.
“You will be heard shortly. First of all we must hear Pledge’s witness.”
“Certainly. I told Webster to call up at half-past four. He doesn’t know what for. You’d better have him in. I’ll go and fetch him.”
“No,” said the Captain. “Aspinall, will you ask him to come in?”
Chapter Twenty Nine.How Templeton turns a corner.Aspinall was not absent three minutes altogether, but the interval seemed interminable.Our heroes, as they sat huddled together, pale, defiant, but bewildered, dividing the attention of the meeting with their accuser, thought it a century. More than once Dick, boiling over, started to his feet and attempted to speak, but every time Mansfield quietly suppressed him, and told him to wait till the proper time came.Coote was once more racked by doubts as to whether he had really taken the pencil after all. He was morally certain he had not, but Coote was a youth always open to conviction.The door opened at last, and Aspinall appeared ushering in the bookseller, who looked like a man who suspected a trap and was prepared to defend himself at the first sign of attack.He had received a note in the morning from Pledge—of whom he had seen or heard nothing since his visit to the shop a fortnight ago—asking him to be sure to call at the school at 4:30 on a matter of business.When Aspinall summoned him, he concluded it was to go to Pledge’s study. But when, instead of that, he found himself suddenly ushered into a congregation of the whole school, it was small wonder if he felt bewildered and sniffed treachery.“Mr Webster,” said Mansfield, “Pledge, here, has just been publicly accusing three boys of theft. He says they have robbed you, and we want you to hear his statement and tell us if it is true. Please repeat what you have to say, Pledge, in Mr Webster’s hearing.”The stationer, with inquiring face, turned to Pledge, who, despite some vague doubts which were beginning to disturb his confidence, smiled affably and said—“Oh, sorry to bring you up, Mr Webster, just at your busy time, but I was telling my friends here about that little affair of the pencil-case, you know, which was stolen from you; and as they don’t seem inclined to believe me, I thought the best thing would be for you to tell them about it yourself.”The countenance of the bookseller underwent a marvellous transformation as the speech proceeded. When Pledge had ceased, he exclaimed—“Pencil-case! Why, bless you, Mr Pledge, I found that a fortnight ago!”This announcement was the signal for a howl such as Templeton had rarely heard. The pent-up scorn of an afternoon broke out against the accuser as he stood there, pale and stupefied, staring at Webster.It was all Mansfield could do to restore order. The gust had to blow itself more than half out before even he was heeded.“Look here, you fellows,” said he, “don’t let us lose our heads. We want to hear the rights and wrongs of the case fairly. Hadn’t you better wait till that’s done before you turn the place into a bear-garden?”The rebuke told, and the meeting relapsed into silence.“You never told me that,” snarled Pledge. “You’ve been fooling me.”“You never asked me. Mr Richardson knew; he was in the shop just after I found it.”“Of course he was,” sneered Pledge.“He needn’t have been, if that’s what you mean. He’d nothing to do with it. Bless you, it’s an old story now; I’d almost forgotten it.”“You forgot, too, that you asked me to recover it for you; and you let me go on while all the time you had it.”“You offered to get it back. I never asked you. You said you had an interest in the young gentlemen.”“And you never thought it worth while to tell me the thing had turned up?”“I told Mr Richardson, and said I was sorry for the fright he and his two friends had had. It never struck me you’d go on bothering about it, or I’d have told you. Fact of the matter is, I’ve never seen you from that day to this.”“Is that all you want to say?” said Mansfield, turning to Pledge.“I can only say this,” said Pledge: “that I never saw three boys imitate guilt better. If they hadn’t done it, I should like to ask them why they quaked in their shoes whenever they met me, and why they sent me a round robin, asking me not to tell about them?”“I can tell you that!” shouted Dick, springing up.“You needn’t wait, Mr Webster,” said Mansfield. “Thank you for coming up.”“Thank you, gentlemen,” said the tradesman.“I’m sorry to be mixed up in the matter. Mr Pledge can go somewhere else for his books. Good day, gentlemen.”“Good day,” said several voices.When order was restored, Dick was discovered, red in the face, mounted on a form, propped up on either side by his faithful allies.“I can tell him that,” he cried, “and all of you, too. We thought he knew about another row of ours—about Tom White’s boat, you know. It was us let her go; at least I did, and Georgie was there, too, and Coote’s been in it since he came up. Tom White robbed us coming back from Grandcourt, and we were awfully wild, and were cads enough to slip his boat on the beach. There’s been a regular row, and we expected to be transported. We backed Tom White up all we could, and tried to get him off. I told the magistrate it was us did it, and he said I’d put him in a jolly fix. Pledge was always talking to us about the police, and the county gaol, and that sort of thing, and we made sure he’d found out all about it, and was going to do us over it. We never guessed he was running his head against that pencil business, or we could easily have put him right. We’re awfully sorry about the boat, you know. My governor came down and squared most of the fellows, and it’s all right now, and Tom’s got let off. Pledge has got a spite against all our ‘Firm,’ because we’re not going to let Georgie be made a cad of by him, and we told him so; didn’t we, you chaps?”“Yes, we did,” shouted the “chaps.”“Yes, he thought,” continued Dick, warming up, “he’d make Georgie go and fag for him again, by threatening him about this row; but we backed Georgie up, and wouldn’t let him; and then he promised to show us up at the ‘Sociables,’ and so he has.”Dick’s oration was too much for the feelings of his audience. They laughed and cheered at every sentence; and when finally he subsided between his two supporters, quite short of breath, and wondering at the length of his own speech, they forgot the Captain’s rebuke, and finished their howl against Pledge to the bitter end.“Does Pledge want to ask any more questions?” asked Mansfield.Pledge laughed bitterly.“No, thank you; I’m not quite clever enough for them.”“Perhaps you are right,” said the Captain, drily. “And if you have nothing more to say, perhaps you would like to go.”Pledge hesitated a moment, amid the howls which followed the Captain’s words. Then he coolly rose, and ascended the platform. His face was flushed, and his eyes uneasy; but otherwise impudence befriended him, and he stood there to all appearances neither humiliated nor dismayed.“Gentlemen,” he began; but a fresh storm arose, and drowned his voice.The uproar continued till Mansfield called for order, and said—“I think in ordinary decency you ought to treat everybody fairly on a day like this. It will do you no harm, and it will be more worthy of Templeton.”“Gentlemen,” said Pledge, “thank you for being ordinarily decent, although it wouldn’t break my heart if you didn’t hear me. It’s not as easy as you may suppose to stand up single-handed against a school full of howling enemies. It’s easy for you to howl when everybody howls on your side. Suppose you change places with me, and try to speak when everybody’s howling against you. However, I don’t complain. Somebody must be on the losing side, and as all of you take care to be on the winning. I’ll do without you.”Pledge certainly knew his audience. He had hit them cleverly on a weak point—the point of chivalry; and had he been content to rest where he was, he might even yet have saved a following for himself in Templeton. But he went on—“Our three young friends have told you a pretty story, which has highly amused you. It amused me too. They told you I had a spite against them. I must say it’s the first I’ve heard of it. As a rule Sixth-form fellows don’t waste much time in plotting against boys in the Third; but Richardson evidently thinks he and his friends are considerably more important than other boys of their age and brains. Suppose I were to tell you that, instead of my having a spite against any one, somebody has, for the last year, had a spite against me, and that somebody is the holy Captain of Templeton? Suppose I told you that he dared not show it openly, but made use of my wretched fag and his friends to tell tales, and trump up stories about me? Suppose I told you he and his fellow-monitors resorted to a mean dodge to get me to resign my monitorship, and then got up this precious Club in order to soft-soap their own toadies for helping them to do it? What has Mansfield done for Templeton, I should like to know? Hasn’t he done more harm than good by his hectoring manner and his favouritism and fussiness? Isn’t he one of the most unpopular fellows in Templeton? Didn’t he all but get ignominiously left out of his own wonderful Club? And what do you think of him when he gets up here and tries to pass as a model of justice, when as likely as not, he has pre-arranged the whole affair, and told every one what part he is to play in the farce?”He sat down amid a dead silence, conscious he had overdone it. A little less, and he might have convinced some that what he said was true; but when he talked such palpable nonsense as that of the Captain having arranged the whole scene which Pledge himself had got up, the meeting took his whole tirade for what it was worth, and received it in mocking silence.Freckleton, to the relief of everybody, got up and said—“I did think we might be spared quite such a ridiculous speech as that to which we have just listened. However, I have nothing to say about its comic side. What I want to say is this. It is perfectly true Mansfield had a spite against Pledge. So had I;sohad Cresswell. So had eleven out of twelve of all the other monitors. And I’ll tell you why. When a fellow deliberately sets himself to corrupt juniors entrusted to his care, as he corrupted young Forbes (howls), when he sets himself to upset every vestige of order and good form in Templeton; when he tells lies of everybody, and never tells the same lie correctly twice running (laughter); when he cudgels his brains how he may make mischief between friends (cheers from the ‘Firm’), and get the credit of being the only friend of the very fellows he tries to ruin; then, I say, it’s no wonder if Mansfield, and you, and everybody has a spite against him. I don’t say much for the Templetonian that hasn’t. I don’t mean the spite which would lead any one to kick him. Thank goodness, we can let him know what we think without wearing out our shoe-leather (laughter). He talks in noble strain about being single-handed, and on the losing side. Thank goodness he is single-handed, and on the losing side! Thank goodness, too, he is lonely, and finds no one ready to keep him company in his low ways! He talks about Mansfield,” continued the speaker, waxing unexpectedly warm. “Gentlemen, if you knew Mansfield as well as I do, you would be as angry as I am to hear the lies this miserable cad tells. Mansfield, gentlemen, would, I know, risk his life for the good of Templeton. He may not be popular. He’s told me, often and often, he knows he isn’t. But, I say to him, and I think you will say too, ‘Go on, old man,’ (cheers). ‘You’ve done more good to Templeton in a term than other Captains have done in a year; and if the only thing you had ever done had been to rid us of the cad, Pledge, you would have done the school a service that any one might be proud of,’ (loud cheers). There, I’ve used hard words, I know, and almost lost my temper, but it’s best to speak out sometimes. Pledge has heard what I’ve said, and I shouldn’t say anything different behind his back.”The Hermit sat down amidst a roar of applause, in which the Sixth joined as heartily as any. The effect of his simple, straightforward speech was immediately apparent when Mansfield rose to dismiss the assembly.For a moment he stood there, unable to speak for the cheers which greeted him. The honest indignation of his friend had touched a keynote, which suddenly awakened Templeton to the conviction that its Captain was a hero after all; and the almost pathetic reference to his unpopularity roused them to an enthusiasm of repentance which was almost startling.At length silence reigned, and the Captain said, with the faintest suspicion of a tremble in his voice—“I think we’ve all had enough of this, you fellows. There’s the Chapel bell. This meeting is over.”By a curious sort of instinct, the meeting, instead of immediately dispersing, remained seated, while Pledge rose, and moved to the door. He had got half-way there before he noticed his isolation, and a sudden flush of scarlet in his cheeks betrayed his emotion at the discovery. It was too late to retreat to his seat, and too late to pretend not to notice his position. With a pitiful attempt at a swagger, he completed his passage to the door, and left the Hall.As he reached the door, a low hiss rose from the middle of the assembly, but a sudden gesture of appeal from the Captain stifled it before it could spread, and the door closed behind the retreating figure amid a silence which spoke volumes.The meeting waited a minute or two, and then quietly rose and dispersed, every one feeling that from that afternoon a new era in the history of Templeton had been inaugurated.Our heroes, who in the midst of later excitements had half-forgotten their own share in the afternoon’s proceedings, were among the first to get out into the Quadrangle; and once there, their manner changed from one of dignified solemnity to one of agitated expectancy.In a quarter of an hour their guest was due in Cresswell’s study, and between now and then, what had they not to do?Who shall describe that wondrous spread, or the heroes that partook of it? How, when Mr Richardson arrived, punctual and hungry, he found a table groaning under every delicacy the ingenuity and pocket-money of three juniors could provide; how the kidneys were done to a turn and the tea-cake to a shade; how jam-pots stood like forts at each corner of the snowy cloth; how hot rolls and bath buns lorded it over white loaf and brown; how eggs, boiled three minutes and five seconds by Heathcote’s watch, peeped out among watercress and lettuces; how rosy apples and luscious pears jostled one another in the centre dish; and how tea and coffee breathed forth threatenings at one another from rival pots on the same tray?It was a spread to make the mouths in Olympus water, and drive Hebe and Ganymede to despair. Mr Richardson, who, in the guilelessness of his heart, had brought a small plum-cake as a contribution to the feast, positively blushed as he saw that table, and hid his poor mite back in his pocket for very shame.The “Firm,” when they did go in for a thing, did it well, and no mistake; and, if Mr Richardson had paid up royally for them during the day, he should find that more than one could play at that game, and that they would pay up royally at night.Like a brave man, the good father expanded his appetite, and, regardless of consequences, took a little of everything. The “Firm” took a great deal of everything, and never was a more jovial meal.Coote’s cup seemed to be always on the road to or from the pot, and Georgie was for ever mistaking the dish of tea-cake for his own private plate; while Dick, bolder than any of them, insisted on giving his parent ocular demonstration of the wholesomeness of each several dish, until that good gentleman began to think it was a good thing he was not a daily visitor at Templeton.“Jolly brickish of old Cress, giving us his study, isn’t it, you chaps?”“Rather!” said Georgie. “I think we might almost leave him out something.”“I don’t particularly want thisegg,” said Coote, who had already accomplished two and was gently tapping a third, “if you think he’d like that.”“How would it be to ask him in? Would you mind, father?”“Not at all,” said Mr Richardson, really relieved at the prospect of a fifth appetite to help off the banquet.So Dick went in search of his senior, and found him in Freckleton’s study. He felt constrained to invite both seniors to join their party, and, somewhat to his alarm, they both accepted gladly.Dick need not have been alarmed, though, for both the provisions and the company held out wonderfully.Mr Richardson was delighted with his boy’s seniors, and they were no less delighted with him. The whole story of Tom White’s boat was rehearsed again, as were also the other stories of the term, finishing up with the eventful assembly of the afternoon.“It wasn’t a pleasant affair at all,” said Cresswell, “but thunderstorms do clear the air sometimes, and I think Templeton understands itself better now.”“Of course we shall have Pledge still,” said Freckleton, “but, as long as fellows know what he is, he’s not dangerous. It’s when he gets hold of young greenhorns like Heathcote and Coote he does mischief.”“He never got hold of me,” said Coote.“I was an ass to let him make a cad of me,” said Heathcote. “I had warning, you know; the Ghost wrote to me before I’d been here a fortnight.”“What Ghost?” asked Mr Richardson.Cresswell laughed.“Nobody knows,” said he, “though some of us guess.”“Who? Was it you?” asked Dick. “I got a letter too, you know.”“No; it wasn’t I.”“Then, by Jove! it must have been Freckleton,” exclaimed Dick, interpreting the guilty look on the Hermit’s face. “Was it, I say?”“‘Dominat qui in se dominatur’!” said the Hermit in a sepulchral tone. “Yes, my boy; but keep it mum. I shan’t waste my Latin over you again in a hurry.”“Your letter really made me sit up,” said Dick, gravely.“Well, I expect,” said Cresswell, “if Templeton goes on as she’s doing now, the poor Ghost will be hard up for a job. Mansfield is the right man in the right place, and he’s more right than ever now.”“That he is,” said Freckleton, warmly. “I can tell you fellows that, in spite of his iron hand, he’s one of the humblest fellows that ever lived. I believe he prays for Templeton night and morning, and that’s more than a lot of us do, I fear.”“After all,” said Mr Richardson, “that’s the best sort of Christian. A man who lives up to what he believes will lead fifty, where a man who believes more than he acts up to will barely lead one.”“It strikes me,” said Freckleton, “it’s no joke to be a leader of men, or boys either; is it, Dick?”“Oh, I don’t know,” said Dick. “It’s no good as long as you don’t go quite straight yourself. You’ve got to go square yourself, I suppose, before any one else will back you up.”“Yes,” said Coote; “we couldn’t back you up, you know, while you were going on as you were, could we, Dick?”“Didn’t look like it,” said Dick, with a grin.“But I expect Dick thinks it was worth his while to have to go steady,” said Cresswell. “It’s done your ‘Firm’ no harm, has it?”“Rather not!” said the “Firm,” returning to their supper.The End.
Aspinall was not absent three minutes altogether, but the interval seemed interminable.
Our heroes, as they sat huddled together, pale, defiant, but bewildered, dividing the attention of the meeting with their accuser, thought it a century. More than once Dick, boiling over, started to his feet and attempted to speak, but every time Mansfield quietly suppressed him, and told him to wait till the proper time came.
Coote was once more racked by doubts as to whether he had really taken the pencil after all. He was morally certain he had not, but Coote was a youth always open to conviction.
The door opened at last, and Aspinall appeared ushering in the bookseller, who looked like a man who suspected a trap and was prepared to defend himself at the first sign of attack.
He had received a note in the morning from Pledge—of whom he had seen or heard nothing since his visit to the shop a fortnight ago—asking him to be sure to call at the school at 4:30 on a matter of business.
When Aspinall summoned him, he concluded it was to go to Pledge’s study. But when, instead of that, he found himself suddenly ushered into a congregation of the whole school, it was small wonder if he felt bewildered and sniffed treachery.
“Mr Webster,” said Mansfield, “Pledge, here, has just been publicly accusing three boys of theft. He says they have robbed you, and we want you to hear his statement and tell us if it is true. Please repeat what you have to say, Pledge, in Mr Webster’s hearing.”
The stationer, with inquiring face, turned to Pledge, who, despite some vague doubts which were beginning to disturb his confidence, smiled affably and said—
“Oh, sorry to bring you up, Mr Webster, just at your busy time, but I was telling my friends here about that little affair of the pencil-case, you know, which was stolen from you; and as they don’t seem inclined to believe me, I thought the best thing would be for you to tell them about it yourself.”
The countenance of the bookseller underwent a marvellous transformation as the speech proceeded. When Pledge had ceased, he exclaimed—
“Pencil-case! Why, bless you, Mr Pledge, I found that a fortnight ago!”
This announcement was the signal for a howl such as Templeton had rarely heard. The pent-up scorn of an afternoon broke out against the accuser as he stood there, pale and stupefied, staring at Webster.
It was all Mansfield could do to restore order. The gust had to blow itself more than half out before even he was heeded.
“Look here, you fellows,” said he, “don’t let us lose our heads. We want to hear the rights and wrongs of the case fairly. Hadn’t you better wait till that’s done before you turn the place into a bear-garden?”
The rebuke told, and the meeting relapsed into silence.
“You never told me that,” snarled Pledge. “You’ve been fooling me.”
“You never asked me. Mr Richardson knew; he was in the shop just after I found it.”
“Of course he was,” sneered Pledge.
“He needn’t have been, if that’s what you mean. He’d nothing to do with it. Bless you, it’s an old story now; I’d almost forgotten it.”
“You forgot, too, that you asked me to recover it for you; and you let me go on while all the time you had it.”
“You offered to get it back. I never asked you. You said you had an interest in the young gentlemen.”
“And you never thought it worth while to tell me the thing had turned up?”
“I told Mr Richardson, and said I was sorry for the fright he and his two friends had had. It never struck me you’d go on bothering about it, or I’d have told you. Fact of the matter is, I’ve never seen you from that day to this.”
“Is that all you want to say?” said Mansfield, turning to Pledge.
“I can only say this,” said Pledge: “that I never saw three boys imitate guilt better. If they hadn’t done it, I should like to ask them why they quaked in their shoes whenever they met me, and why they sent me a round robin, asking me not to tell about them?”
“I can tell you that!” shouted Dick, springing up.
“You needn’t wait, Mr Webster,” said Mansfield. “Thank you for coming up.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” said the tradesman.
“I’m sorry to be mixed up in the matter. Mr Pledge can go somewhere else for his books. Good day, gentlemen.”
“Good day,” said several voices.
When order was restored, Dick was discovered, red in the face, mounted on a form, propped up on either side by his faithful allies.
“I can tell him that,” he cried, “and all of you, too. We thought he knew about another row of ours—about Tom White’s boat, you know. It was us let her go; at least I did, and Georgie was there, too, and Coote’s been in it since he came up. Tom White robbed us coming back from Grandcourt, and we were awfully wild, and were cads enough to slip his boat on the beach. There’s been a regular row, and we expected to be transported. We backed Tom White up all we could, and tried to get him off. I told the magistrate it was us did it, and he said I’d put him in a jolly fix. Pledge was always talking to us about the police, and the county gaol, and that sort of thing, and we made sure he’d found out all about it, and was going to do us over it. We never guessed he was running his head against that pencil business, or we could easily have put him right. We’re awfully sorry about the boat, you know. My governor came down and squared most of the fellows, and it’s all right now, and Tom’s got let off. Pledge has got a spite against all our ‘Firm,’ because we’re not going to let Georgie be made a cad of by him, and we told him so; didn’t we, you chaps?”
“Yes, we did,” shouted the “chaps.”
“Yes, he thought,” continued Dick, warming up, “he’d make Georgie go and fag for him again, by threatening him about this row; but we backed Georgie up, and wouldn’t let him; and then he promised to show us up at the ‘Sociables,’ and so he has.”
Dick’s oration was too much for the feelings of his audience. They laughed and cheered at every sentence; and when finally he subsided between his two supporters, quite short of breath, and wondering at the length of his own speech, they forgot the Captain’s rebuke, and finished their howl against Pledge to the bitter end.
“Does Pledge want to ask any more questions?” asked Mansfield.
Pledge laughed bitterly.
“No, thank you; I’m not quite clever enough for them.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said the Captain, drily. “And if you have nothing more to say, perhaps you would like to go.”
Pledge hesitated a moment, amid the howls which followed the Captain’s words. Then he coolly rose, and ascended the platform. His face was flushed, and his eyes uneasy; but otherwise impudence befriended him, and he stood there to all appearances neither humiliated nor dismayed.
“Gentlemen,” he began; but a fresh storm arose, and drowned his voice.
The uproar continued till Mansfield called for order, and said—
“I think in ordinary decency you ought to treat everybody fairly on a day like this. It will do you no harm, and it will be more worthy of Templeton.”
“Gentlemen,” said Pledge, “thank you for being ordinarily decent, although it wouldn’t break my heart if you didn’t hear me. It’s not as easy as you may suppose to stand up single-handed against a school full of howling enemies. It’s easy for you to howl when everybody howls on your side. Suppose you change places with me, and try to speak when everybody’s howling against you. However, I don’t complain. Somebody must be on the losing side, and as all of you take care to be on the winning. I’ll do without you.”
Pledge certainly knew his audience. He had hit them cleverly on a weak point—the point of chivalry; and had he been content to rest where he was, he might even yet have saved a following for himself in Templeton. But he went on—
“Our three young friends have told you a pretty story, which has highly amused you. It amused me too. They told you I had a spite against them. I must say it’s the first I’ve heard of it. As a rule Sixth-form fellows don’t waste much time in plotting against boys in the Third; but Richardson evidently thinks he and his friends are considerably more important than other boys of their age and brains. Suppose I were to tell you that, instead of my having a spite against any one, somebody has, for the last year, had a spite against me, and that somebody is the holy Captain of Templeton? Suppose I told you that he dared not show it openly, but made use of my wretched fag and his friends to tell tales, and trump up stories about me? Suppose I told you he and his fellow-monitors resorted to a mean dodge to get me to resign my monitorship, and then got up this precious Club in order to soft-soap their own toadies for helping them to do it? What has Mansfield done for Templeton, I should like to know? Hasn’t he done more harm than good by his hectoring manner and his favouritism and fussiness? Isn’t he one of the most unpopular fellows in Templeton? Didn’t he all but get ignominiously left out of his own wonderful Club? And what do you think of him when he gets up here and tries to pass as a model of justice, when as likely as not, he has pre-arranged the whole affair, and told every one what part he is to play in the farce?”
He sat down amid a dead silence, conscious he had overdone it. A little less, and he might have convinced some that what he said was true; but when he talked such palpable nonsense as that of the Captain having arranged the whole scene which Pledge himself had got up, the meeting took his whole tirade for what it was worth, and received it in mocking silence.
Freckleton, to the relief of everybody, got up and said—
“I did think we might be spared quite such a ridiculous speech as that to which we have just listened. However, I have nothing to say about its comic side. What I want to say is this. It is perfectly true Mansfield had a spite against Pledge. So had I;sohad Cresswell. So had eleven out of twelve of all the other monitors. And I’ll tell you why. When a fellow deliberately sets himself to corrupt juniors entrusted to his care, as he corrupted young Forbes (howls), when he sets himself to upset every vestige of order and good form in Templeton; when he tells lies of everybody, and never tells the same lie correctly twice running (laughter); when he cudgels his brains how he may make mischief between friends (cheers from the ‘Firm’), and get the credit of being the only friend of the very fellows he tries to ruin; then, I say, it’s no wonder if Mansfield, and you, and everybody has a spite against him. I don’t say much for the Templetonian that hasn’t. I don’t mean the spite which would lead any one to kick him. Thank goodness, we can let him know what we think without wearing out our shoe-leather (laughter). He talks in noble strain about being single-handed, and on the losing side. Thank goodness he is single-handed, and on the losing side! Thank goodness, too, he is lonely, and finds no one ready to keep him company in his low ways! He talks about Mansfield,” continued the speaker, waxing unexpectedly warm. “Gentlemen, if you knew Mansfield as well as I do, you would be as angry as I am to hear the lies this miserable cad tells. Mansfield, gentlemen, would, I know, risk his life for the good of Templeton. He may not be popular. He’s told me, often and often, he knows he isn’t. But, I say to him, and I think you will say too, ‘Go on, old man,’ (cheers). ‘You’ve done more good to Templeton in a term than other Captains have done in a year; and if the only thing you had ever done had been to rid us of the cad, Pledge, you would have done the school a service that any one might be proud of,’ (loud cheers). There, I’ve used hard words, I know, and almost lost my temper, but it’s best to speak out sometimes. Pledge has heard what I’ve said, and I shouldn’t say anything different behind his back.”
The Hermit sat down amidst a roar of applause, in which the Sixth joined as heartily as any. The effect of his simple, straightforward speech was immediately apparent when Mansfield rose to dismiss the assembly.
For a moment he stood there, unable to speak for the cheers which greeted him. The honest indignation of his friend had touched a keynote, which suddenly awakened Templeton to the conviction that its Captain was a hero after all; and the almost pathetic reference to his unpopularity roused them to an enthusiasm of repentance which was almost startling.
At length silence reigned, and the Captain said, with the faintest suspicion of a tremble in his voice—
“I think we’ve all had enough of this, you fellows. There’s the Chapel bell. This meeting is over.”
By a curious sort of instinct, the meeting, instead of immediately dispersing, remained seated, while Pledge rose, and moved to the door. He had got half-way there before he noticed his isolation, and a sudden flush of scarlet in his cheeks betrayed his emotion at the discovery. It was too late to retreat to his seat, and too late to pretend not to notice his position. With a pitiful attempt at a swagger, he completed his passage to the door, and left the Hall.
As he reached the door, a low hiss rose from the middle of the assembly, but a sudden gesture of appeal from the Captain stifled it before it could spread, and the door closed behind the retreating figure amid a silence which spoke volumes.
The meeting waited a minute or two, and then quietly rose and dispersed, every one feeling that from that afternoon a new era in the history of Templeton had been inaugurated.
Our heroes, who in the midst of later excitements had half-forgotten their own share in the afternoon’s proceedings, were among the first to get out into the Quadrangle; and once there, their manner changed from one of dignified solemnity to one of agitated expectancy.
In a quarter of an hour their guest was due in Cresswell’s study, and between now and then, what had they not to do?
Who shall describe that wondrous spread, or the heroes that partook of it? How, when Mr Richardson arrived, punctual and hungry, he found a table groaning under every delicacy the ingenuity and pocket-money of three juniors could provide; how the kidneys were done to a turn and the tea-cake to a shade; how jam-pots stood like forts at each corner of the snowy cloth; how hot rolls and bath buns lorded it over white loaf and brown; how eggs, boiled three minutes and five seconds by Heathcote’s watch, peeped out among watercress and lettuces; how rosy apples and luscious pears jostled one another in the centre dish; and how tea and coffee breathed forth threatenings at one another from rival pots on the same tray?
It was a spread to make the mouths in Olympus water, and drive Hebe and Ganymede to despair. Mr Richardson, who, in the guilelessness of his heart, had brought a small plum-cake as a contribution to the feast, positively blushed as he saw that table, and hid his poor mite back in his pocket for very shame.
The “Firm,” when they did go in for a thing, did it well, and no mistake; and, if Mr Richardson had paid up royally for them during the day, he should find that more than one could play at that game, and that they would pay up royally at night.
Like a brave man, the good father expanded his appetite, and, regardless of consequences, took a little of everything. The “Firm” took a great deal of everything, and never was a more jovial meal.
Coote’s cup seemed to be always on the road to or from the pot, and Georgie was for ever mistaking the dish of tea-cake for his own private plate; while Dick, bolder than any of them, insisted on giving his parent ocular demonstration of the wholesomeness of each several dish, until that good gentleman began to think it was a good thing he was not a daily visitor at Templeton.
“Jolly brickish of old Cress, giving us his study, isn’t it, you chaps?”
“Rather!” said Georgie. “I think we might almost leave him out something.”
“I don’t particularly want thisegg,” said Coote, who had already accomplished two and was gently tapping a third, “if you think he’d like that.”
“How would it be to ask him in? Would you mind, father?”
“Not at all,” said Mr Richardson, really relieved at the prospect of a fifth appetite to help off the banquet.
So Dick went in search of his senior, and found him in Freckleton’s study. He felt constrained to invite both seniors to join their party, and, somewhat to his alarm, they both accepted gladly.
Dick need not have been alarmed, though, for both the provisions and the company held out wonderfully.
Mr Richardson was delighted with his boy’s seniors, and they were no less delighted with him. The whole story of Tom White’s boat was rehearsed again, as were also the other stories of the term, finishing up with the eventful assembly of the afternoon.
“It wasn’t a pleasant affair at all,” said Cresswell, “but thunderstorms do clear the air sometimes, and I think Templeton understands itself better now.”
“Of course we shall have Pledge still,” said Freckleton, “but, as long as fellows know what he is, he’s not dangerous. It’s when he gets hold of young greenhorns like Heathcote and Coote he does mischief.”
“He never got hold of me,” said Coote.
“I was an ass to let him make a cad of me,” said Heathcote. “I had warning, you know; the Ghost wrote to me before I’d been here a fortnight.”
“What Ghost?” asked Mr Richardson.
Cresswell laughed.
“Nobody knows,” said he, “though some of us guess.”
“Who? Was it you?” asked Dick. “I got a letter too, you know.”
“No; it wasn’t I.”
“Then, by Jove! it must have been Freckleton,” exclaimed Dick, interpreting the guilty look on the Hermit’s face. “Was it, I say?”
“‘Dominat qui in se dominatur’!” said the Hermit in a sepulchral tone. “Yes, my boy; but keep it mum. I shan’t waste my Latin over you again in a hurry.”
“Your letter really made me sit up,” said Dick, gravely.
“Well, I expect,” said Cresswell, “if Templeton goes on as she’s doing now, the poor Ghost will be hard up for a job. Mansfield is the right man in the right place, and he’s more right than ever now.”
“That he is,” said Freckleton, warmly. “I can tell you fellows that, in spite of his iron hand, he’s one of the humblest fellows that ever lived. I believe he prays for Templeton night and morning, and that’s more than a lot of us do, I fear.”
“After all,” said Mr Richardson, “that’s the best sort of Christian. A man who lives up to what he believes will lead fifty, where a man who believes more than he acts up to will barely lead one.”
“It strikes me,” said Freckleton, “it’s no joke to be a leader of men, or boys either; is it, Dick?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Dick. “It’s no good as long as you don’t go quite straight yourself. You’ve got to go square yourself, I suppose, before any one else will back you up.”
“Yes,” said Coote; “we couldn’t back you up, you know, while you were going on as you were, could we, Dick?”
“Didn’t look like it,” said Dick, with a grin.
“But I expect Dick thinks it was worth his while to have to go steady,” said Cresswell. “It’s done your ‘Firm’ no harm, has it?”
“Rather not!” said the “Firm,” returning to their supper.
|Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3| |Chapter 4| |Chapter 5| |Chapter 6| |Chapter 7| |Chapter 8| |Chapter 9| |Chapter 10| |Chapter 11| |Chapter 12| |Chapter 13| |Chapter 14| |Chapter 15| |Chapter 16| |Chapter 17| |Chapter 18| |Chapter 19| |Chapter 20| |Chapter 21| |Chapter 22| |Chapter 23| |Chapter 24| |Chapter 25| |Chapter 26| |Chapter 27| |Chapter 28| |Chapter 29|