Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Thirteen.Corder to the Front.The morning of the return match with Rendlesham was damp and muggy, and so assorted well with the spirits of Fellsgarth generally.The juniors of course were cheerful—everything came in the day’s work for them—but among the seniors on either side gloom prevailed. Even Ranger, the lighthearted, was snappish, as his fag discovered; and Denton, the amiable, hoped he would not, for his temper’s sake, meet too many Moderns between morning and evening. The captain, though he kept up his usual show of serenity, was evidently worried. But he had no notion of giving in. No! If the School was to be thrashed let them take their thrashing like men, and not whine about like the “other boys.”“After all,” said he to Ranger, “we may not get glory, but we needn’t lose it. Only, for goodness’ sake, let us keep our rows to ourselves, and not talk about them out of doors.”“Right you are!” said his friend. “I wish I had your temper. The cads! And after the way you’ve treated them, too. Why, some of us thought you went out of your way to favour them.”The captain grunted, and began to throw his flannels into his bag.“What about Rollitt?” he asked.“No go. He’s gone off for a day’s fishing.”The captain whistled dismally. “Then we must play a man short. There’s no one else worth putting in. It’s like marching to one’s execution,” he said; “I wish it was all over. But it’s only just beginning.”The Moderns were gloomy too. They had taken their course, and they must stand by it now. When they came to reflect, it was not a particularly glorious one, nor did it seem to promise much by way of compensation. They were done out of football for the rest of the term; they were reduced to a faction in Fellsgarth, and what was worse, they were secretly doubtful whether they were quite as much in the right as they tried to persuade themselves.They had taken their course, however, and must go on.“I suppose none of our side will go on the omnibus,” said Brinkman.“Why not?” said Clapperton. “It will do them good to have spectators. I shall go; not that I care about it, but just to assert my rights.”“Hurrah for self-sacrifice!” said Fullerton. “If your principles will allow you to take chicken and tongue sandwiches with you, I’ll go too.”“It’s ten to one they’ll try to prevent our going,” said Dangle; “I hope they’ll try.”When the two coaches drove up to carry the fifteen and the prefects and other privileged boys to the scene of conflict, a good deal of surprise was evinced at the appearance of Clapperton, Brinkman, Dangle, and Fullerton, in ordinary costume, and without bags, ready to accompany the party.Contrary to their expectations and hopes, no protest was made, and, as far as the Classic seniors were concerned, no notice was vouchsafed them. This was annoying, particularly as the juniors present took care to call attention to their presence.“Look at ’em,” cried Wally; “don’t they look clever?”“Kicked out of the team—serve ’em right!” shouted Ashby.“Who’s kicked out?” retorted the Modern fags. “It would take better chaps than you to kick them out.”“Don’t you wish you could kick them in? They know better,” retorted Percy and Co.Amid such embarrassing comments, the four Modern heroes mounted to their places.The cheers of their adherents hardly made up for the chilly welcome of their travelling companions. Yorke, seeing Clapperton looking for a place, politely moved up to make room, and then turned his back and talked to Ranger. The other three were similarly cut off, Dangle finding himself in between Fisher major and Denton, who talked across him. Brinkman, on another coach, was tucked in among some rowdy Classic middle-boys who were discussing the “strike” very vigorously among themselves. As for Fullerton, he was lucky enough to get the seat beside the driver, where, at any rate, he could count on one sympathetic soul into whose ears to pour his occasional words of wisdom.Just as the first coach was starting, a shout was heard from across the Green, and Corder, the Modern boy whose services were declined on the previous occasion, equipped in an ulster and with his bag in his hand, appeared signalling for thecortègeto wait.“Well! what is it?” demanded Dangle.“Is Yorke there? Yorke, can I play to-day?”“No, you can’t,” said Dangle in a menacing undertone. “None of us are playing; you know that.”“I don’t see why I mayn’t play if I have the chance,” said Corder. “I awfully want to play in the fifteen.”“We’re a man short,” said Yorke. “You can play, Corder.”“If you dare to come and play,” said Dangle, still in a whisper, “you’ll find it so precious hot for yourself afterwards that you’ll be sorry for it.”“Yorke says I may play,” persisted Corder; “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”“Cad! traitor! blackleg!” yelled Percy and Co., as they saw their man mount the coach.“Ha, ha! gotoneman among you who isn’t a coward and a sneak, and—and a howling kid!” retorted Wally. “Gee up!” Whereat the whips cracked and the happy party drove off.Corder was one of those obtuse youths who can never take in more than one idea at a time. His present idea was football. He had come up this term with a consuming ambition to get into the fifteen, and had played hard and desperately to secure his end. Last week, when Brinkman was obliged to retire, he thought his chance was come, and great was his mortification when he found that his nomination was not accepted by the captain. Still he didn’t despair. When he saw the vacancies caused in the team by the defection of the Moderns, his hopes rose again; but once more they were dashed by the captain’s announcement of a fifteen made up wholly of Classics.To-day he had not had the heart to come out and see the coaches start, and was moping in his own room, when some one brought in word that Rollitt was not going to play after all, and that the team was setting out a man short.Whereupon Corder dashed into his ulster, flung his flannels into his bag, and tore out of his house just in time to secure for himself the long-coveted honour, and find himself in the glorious position of “playing for the School.”How was such a fellow likely to trouble his head about strikes, and protests, and organised desertion?Fortunately for the comfort of his journey, he had to pack himself away on the floor between the feet of Ridgway and another of the team, who, if they kicked him at all, only did it by accident or by way of encouragement, and not as Dangle or Brinkman might have done, in spite.The rain was coming down pretty steadily by the time the party got to their destination, and the gloom on the brows of the four Modern prefects deepened as they looked up and speculated on the delights of standing for an hour on the wet grass watching their rivals play.“Dangle,” said Clapperton, “we must stop that cad Corder’s playing at all cost. It will upset everything. Come and talk to him.”But Corder, perhaps with an inkling of what was in store for him, had entrenched himself behind a number of other players, and in close proximity to Ranger, who had evidently told himself off to see that the last recruit of the fifteen was not tampered with.The signals of the two seniors were studiously not observed, and when Dangle, getting desperate, said—“Corder, half a minute; Clapperton wants you.” Ranger interposed with—“Come on, you fellows, it’s time we got into our flannels,” and effectually checkmated the manoeuvre.“If he doesn’t get paid out for this,” growled Clapperton, “I’m precious mistaken.”“Yes; and the other fellows must see that he is. If this sort of thing spreads, we may as well cave in at once.”The Rendlesham fellows hovered about under shelter till the last moment, grumbling at the weather, the grass, and the dock. At length the Fellsgarth boys put in an appearance; sides were solemnly tossed for, and the order to “spread out” was given.“Hullo!” said one of the Rendlesham men as he passed Clapperton and Dangle, “why aren’t you playing? Afraid of the cold?”“No, we scratched because—”“Have you got that big man down who was so hot in the scrimmages? I forget his name.He’snot one of the delicate ones, I fancy.”“No more are we; we’re not playing because—”“Hullo! they’re waiting,” said the player, and went off, leaving the explanation still unfinished.One of the last to run out was Corder.“You young cad,” growled Clapperton as he passed; “take my advice and don’t play, unless—”“Come on, Corder—waiting,” shouted Yorke.Corder obeyed like lightning.The match began disastrously for Fellsgarth. Within five minutes of the kick-off, a run up by one of the Rendlesham quarter-backs carried the ball right into the School lines, and a touch-down resulted. On a fine day like last Saturday a goal would have been certain, but on the wet grass, the try did not come off. But five minutes later, a drop-kick from the middle of the field by the Rendlesham captain secured a magnificent goal for the home team.Clapperton sneered.“What I expected,” said he. “They’ll be lucky if they don’t lose a dozen.”Yorke, on the contrary, was cheering up. Bad as these opening ten minutes had been, he fancied his team was not going to do so badly after all. The new players were working like mad in the scrimmage. Ranger was as quick on his feet in the wet as in the dry; and Corder at half-back had been surprisingly steady.Before kicking off again he made one or two changes. He moved Ridgway, who was a heavy weight, up into the forwards. Corder, greatly to his delight, was entrusted with the goal, and Fisher major moved up to half-back. The forwards were ordered on no account to break loose, but if necessary to keep the ball among them till time was called.Then, with his well-known “On you go!” he lacked off.The ball was almost immediately locked up in a tight, fierce scrimmage. The boys took the captain’s advice with a vengeance, and held the ball among their feet doggedly, neither letting it through on their side, nor forcing it out on the side of the enemy.At length, however, it could be seen filtering out sideways, just where the captain was hovering outside the scrimmage.“Let it come!” he whispered. “Look out, Ranger!”Next moment the ball was under his arm, and before any one realised that the scrimmage was up, he was off with it and among the enemy’s half-backs. The half-backs knew Yorke of old, and closed upon him before he could double or get round them.“Pass!” shouted Ranger.It was beautifully done, while Yorke was falling and Ranger brushing past. The enemy’s half-backs were not in it with the fleet Fellsgarth runner, nor was their back; and to their own utter amazement, three minutes later the School placed to their credit an easy goal.Then did Clapperton and Dangle and Brinkman gnash their teeth till they ached, and Fullerton, standing near, had his gibe.“It was worth coming here in the rain to see that, wasn’t it?”The match was not yet over. The Rendlesham men, startled into attention by this unexpected rebuff, took care that such a misadventure should not happen again, and making all the use they could of their superior weight, bore down the scrimmages and forced the ball into the open. Once they carried it through with a splendid rush, and their captain picking it up under the very feet of the boys, ran it forward a few yards, and took a drop-kick which missed by only a few inches.A little later came Corder’s chance. He had lived all the term for this moment. If he was taken back to Fellsgarth on a shutter he would not care, so long as he did himself credit now.He had a clear field to start with, and was well out of touch before the advance guard of the enemy bore down on him. Then it was a sight to see him wriggle and dodge, and twist and turn in and out among them, threading them like a needle through a string of beads, and slipping through their hands like an eel.“Well played indeed, Corder!” cried Yorke.Oh, what music was in the sound! What would he not dare now!On he went, now diving under an arm, now staggering round a leg; now jumping like a kangaroo against an opponent. The very sight of his evolutions seemed to demoralise the Rendlesham men. They floundered and slid on the slippery grass, and made wild grabs without ever reaching him. It was really too ridiculous to be eluded by a raw hand like this—and yet he eluded them.Half-way down the field he ran with a roar of applause at his back, and only a handful of the enemy left ahead. How splendid if he could only pass them, and make his record with a run from one goal to the other!Alas! a swoop from behind greeted the proud thought; two hands clawed at his shoulders, and from his shoulders slipped to his waist, and from his waist slid down to his ankles, where for a moment they held, and sent the runner tripping over on his nose in the mud, with the ball spinning away a yard ahead.It was all up. No! Fisher was on the spot, and at Fisher’s heels Ridgway. The Rendlesham backs flung themselves in the way, but only to divert, not to stop their career. When Corder picked himself up and rubbed the mud out of his eyes, the first thing he saw was Ridgway sitting behind the enemy’s line with the ball comfortably resting on his knee! It was another for the School—perhaps a goal.Alas! on that ground the long side-kick was too much even for Yorke. It shot wide, and Rendlesham breathed again.But the long and short of it was that the match was a tie; a goal and a try to each side; and that to Corder belonged the credit of a big hand in the lesser point.“Awfully well run, Corder,” said the captain, as, time having been called, the two walked off the field together. “You must play for us again.”After that, who should say life was not worth living?The very weather seemed to change for Corder. The sun came out, flowers sprang up at his feet, birds started singing in the trees overhead. What a letter he would have to write home to-morrow! The captain’s pat on the back sent a glow all through him. Who wouldn’t be a Fellsgarth chap after all?It scarcely damped his joy to perceive that neither Clapperton, Dangle, nor Brinkman shared in the general congratulations, but looked more black and threatening than ever as he passed. Pooh! what did he care for that!How he enjoyed the glorious Rendlesham high tea, and the drive home in the rain with everybody talking and laughing and rejoicing, singing songs and shouting war-cries! He was quite sorry when it came to an end, and he had to dismount and go over alone to his own house.He could hear the shouts and huzzas of the Classics across the Green as Wakefield’s turned out in a body to welcome their men. No one at Forder’s turned out to welcome him. The four prefects themselves had not even waited for him.For the first time that day Corder felt himself wishing he had a little sympathy in his jubilation. It was dull, when everybody over on the other side was shouting himself hoarse, to hear not a “cheep” of congratulation from his own fellows.However, it didn’t matter much. He went to his room and changed, and hoped his messmate Wilson would not be long in coming for supper and a gossip.Wilson came presently, but his face was glum and his manner frigid.“Oh, here you are, old chap; I’m peckish. Did you hear about the match, we—”“Shut up,” said Wilson; “you’re a cad. I don’t want to talk to you.”Corder put down his knife and fork, and looked up in amazement. This from Wilson! He knew Clapperton was sore about it, but Wilson—He went on eating while thinking it out, and Wilson ate too in silence, and then rose to go.“Are you not going to prepare to-night?”“Yes, in Dangle’s room.”And Corder was left alone.This was too bad of Wilson—to-night of all nights. He would go and look up Selby. Selby, he knew, would be interested in the day’s news, for had they not practised drop-kicks together for an hour a day all this term?Selby was in, but not at all glad to see him.“Are you busy, old man?” asked Corder.“I don’t want you here,” said Selby.“Why, what’s the row?”“Row? You’re a sneak, that’s the row. Cut!”Surely Selby must be out of sorts to talk like that. Corder stood in the door for a moment, on the off-chance that his friend might be joking. But no; Selby turned his back and began to read a book.This was getting monotonous. Corder returned to his study to think it out a little more. His fag, Cash, was there looking for a paper.“Hullo, youngster! that you? We didn’t get beaten after all, to-day, I suppose you heard.”Cash’s reply was laconic, to say the least of it. He turned round and put out his tongue.“None of your cheek, I say,” said Corder, “or I’ll—”“Howdareyou speak to me!” said the junior; “you’re a cad—I’m not going to fag for a cad.”And he vanished.Corder went to bed that night sorely perplexed. And his perplexity was not relieved when he rose next morning and found a paper on his table with the following genial notice:—“Any boy in Forder’s found speaking to Corder the sneak will be cut by the house. By Order.”

The morning of the return match with Rendlesham was damp and muggy, and so assorted well with the spirits of Fellsgarth generally.

The juniors of course were cheerful—everything came in the day’s work for them—but among the seniors on either side gloom prevailed. Even Ranger, the lighthearted, was snappish, as his fag discovered; and Denton, the amiable, hoped he would not, for his temper’s sake, meet too many Moderns between morning and evening. The captain, though he kept up his usual show of serenity, was evidently worried. But he had no notion of giving in. No! If the School was to be thrashed let them take their thrashing like men, and not whine about like the “other boys.”

“After all,” said he to Ranger, “we may not get glory, but we needn’t lose it. Only, for goodness’ sake, let us keep our rows to ourselves, and not talk about them out of doors.”

“Right you are!” said his friend. “I wish I had your temper. The cads! And after the way you’ve treated them, too. Why, some of us thought you went out of your way to favour them.”

The captain grunted, and began to throw his flannels into his bag.

“What about Rollitt?” he asked.

“No go. He’s gone off for a day’s fishing.”

The captain whistled dismally. “Then we must play a man short. There’s no one else worth putting in. It’s like marching to one’s execution,” he said; “I wish it was all over. But it’s only just beginning.”

The Moderns were gloomy too. They had taken their course, and they must stand by it now. When they came to reflect, it was not a particularly glorious one, nor did it seem to promise much by way of compensation. They were done out of football for the rest of the term; they were reduced to a faction in Fellsgarth, and what was worse, they were secretly doubtful whether they were quite as much in the right as they tried to persuade themselves.

They had taken their course, however, and must go on.

“I suppose none of our side will go on the omnibus,” said Brinkman.

“Why not?” said Clapperton. “It will do them good to have spectators. I shall go; not that I care about it, but just to assert my rights.”

“Hurrah for self-sacrifice!” said Fullerton. “If your principles will allow you to take chicken and tongue sandwiches with you, I’ll go too.”

“It’s ten to one they’ll try to prevent our going,” said Dangle; “I hope they’ll try.”

When the two coaches drove up to carry the fifteen and the prefects and other privileged boys to the scene of conflict, a good deal of surprise was evinced at the appearance of Clapperton, Brinkman, Dangle, and Fullerton, in ordinary costume, and without bags, ready to accompany the party.

Contrary to their expectations and hopes, no protest was made, and, as far as the Classic seniors were concerned, no notice was vouchsafed them. This was annoying, particularly as the juniors present took care to call attention to their presence.

“Look at ’em,” cried Wally; “don’t they look clever?”

“Kicked out of the team—serve ’em right!” shouted Ashby.

“Who’s kicked out?” retorted the Modern fags. “It would take better chaps than you to kick them out.”

“Don’t you wish you could kick them in? They know better,” retorted Percy and Co.

Amid such embarrassing comments, the four Modern heroes mounted to their places.

The cheers of their adherents hardly made up for the chilly welcome of their travelling companions. Yorke, seeing Clapperton looking for a place, politely moved up to make room, and then turned his back and talked to Ranger. The other three were similarly cut off, Dangle finding himself in between Fisher major and Denton, who talked across him. Brinkman, on another coach, was tucked in among some rowdy Classic middle-boys who were discussing the “strike” very vigorously among themselves. As for Fullerton, he was lucky enough to get the seat beside the driver, where, at any rate, he could count on one sympathetic soul into whose ears to pour his occasional words of wisdom.

Just as the first coach was starting, a shout was heard from across the Green, and Corder, the Modern boy whose services were declined on the previous occasion, equipped in an ulster and with his bag in his hand, appeared signalling for thecortègeto wait.

“Well! what is it?” demanded Dangle.

“Is Yorke there? Yorke, can I play to-day?”

“No, you can’t,” said Dangle in a menacing undertone. “None of us are playing; you know that.”

“I don’t see why I mayn’t play if I have the chance,” said Corder. “I awfully want to play in the fifteen.”

“We’re a man short,” said Yorke. “You can play, Corder.”

“If you dare to come and play,” said Dangle, still in a whisper, “you’ll find it so precious hot for yourself afterwards that you’ll be sorry for it.”

“Yorke says I may play,” persisted Corder; “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

“Cad! traitor! blackleg!” yelled Percy and Co., as they saw their man mount the coach.

“Ha, ha! gotoneman among you who isn’t a coward and a sneak, and—and a howling kid!” retorted Wally. “Gee up!” Whereat the whips cracked and the happy party drove off.

Corder was one of those obtuse youths who can never take in more than one idea at a time. His present idea was football. He had come up this term with a consuming ambition to get into the fifteen, and had played hard and desperately to secure his end. Last week, when Brinkman was obliged to retire, he thought his chance was come, and great was his mortification when he found that his nomination was not accepted by the captain. Still he didn’t despair. When he saw the vacancies caused in the team by the defection of the Moderns, his hopes rose again; but once more they were dashed by the captain’s announcement of a fifteen made up wholly of Classics.

To-day he had not had the heart to come out and see the coaches start, and was moping in his own room, when some one brought in word that Rollitt was not going to play after all, and that the team was setting out a man short.

Whereupon Corder dashed into his ulster, flung his flannels into his bag, and tore out of his house just in time to secure for himself the long-coveted honour, and find himself in the glorious position of “playing for the School.”

How was such a fellow likely to trouble his head about strikes, and protests, and organised desertion?

Fortunately for the comfort of his journey, he had to pack himself away on the floor between the feet of Ridgway and another of the team, who, if they kicked him at all, only did it by accident or by way of encouragement, and not as Dangle or Brinkman might have done, in spite.

The rain was coming down pretty steadily by the time the party got to their destination, and the gloom on the brows of the four Modern prefects deepened as they looked up and speculated on the delights of standing for an hour on the wet grass watching their rivals play.

“Dangle,” said Clapperton, “we must stop that cad Corder’s playing at all cost. It will upset everything. Come and talk to him.”

But Corder, perhaps with an inkling of what was in store for him, had entrenched himself behind a number of other players, and in close proximity to Ranger, who had evidently told himself off to see that the last recruit of the fifteen was not tampered with.

The signals of the two seniors were studiously not observed, and when Dangle, getting desperate, said—

“Corder, half a minute; Clapperton wants you.” Ranger interposed with—

“Come on, you fellows, it’s time we got into our flannels,” and effectually checkmated the manoeuvre.

“If he doesn’t get paid out for this,” growled Clapperton, “I’m precious mistaken.”

“Yes; and the other fellows must see that he is. If this sort of thing spreads, we may as well cave in at once.”

The Rendlesham fellows hovered about under shelter till the last moment, grumbling at the weather, the grass, and the dock. At length the Fellsgarth boys put in an appearance; sides were solemnly tossed for, and the order to “spread out” was given.

“Hullo!” said one of the Rendlesham men as he passed Clapperton and Dangle, “why aren’t you playing? Afraid of the cold?”

“No, we scratched because—”

“Have you got that big man down who was so hot in the scrimmages? I forget his name.He’snot one of the delicate ones, I fancy.”

“No more are we; we’re not playing because—”

“Hullo! they’re waiting,” said the player, and went off, leaving the explanation still unfinished.

One of the last to run out was Corder.

“You young cad,” growled Clapperton as he passed; “take my advice and don’t play, unless—”

“Come on, Corder—waiting,” shouted Yorke.

Corder obeyed like lightning.

The match began disastrously for Fellsgarth. Within five minutes of the kick-off, a run up by one of the Rendlesham quarter-backs carried the ball right into the School lines, and a touch-down resulted. On a fine day like last Saturday a goal would have been certain, but on the wet grass, the try did not come off. But five minutes later, a drop-kick from the middle of the field by the Rendlesham captain secured a magnificent goal for the home team.

Clapperton sneered.

“What I expected,” said he. “They’ll be lucky if they don’t lose a dozen.”

Yorke, on the contrary, was cheering up. Bad as these opening ten minutes had been, he fancied his team was not going to do so badly after all. The new players were working like mad in the scrimmage. Ranger was as quick on his feet in the wet as in the dry; and Corder at half-back had been surprisingly steady.

Before kicking off again he made one or two changes. He moved Ridgway, who was a heavy weight, up into the forwards. Corder, greatly to his delight, was entrusted with the goal, and Fisher major moved up to half-back. The forwards were ordered on no account to break loose, but if necessary to keep the ball among them till time was called.

Then, with his well-known “On you go!” he lacked off.

The ball was almost immediately locked up in a tight, fierce scrimmage. The boys took the captain’s advice with a vengeance, and held the ball among their feet doggedly, neither letting it through on their side, nor forcing it out on the side of the enemy.

At length, however, it could be seen filtering out sideways, just where the captain was hovering outside the scrimmage.

“Let it come!” he whispered. “Look out, Ranger!”

Next moment the ball was under his arm, and before any one realised that the scrimmage was up, he was off with it and among the enemy’s half-backs. The half-backs knew Yorke of old, and closed upon him before he could double or get round them.

“Pass!” shouted Ranger.

It was beautifully done, while Yorke was falling and Ranger brushing past. The enemy’s half-backs were not in it with the fleet Fellsgarth runner, nor was their back; and to their own utter amazement, three minutes later the School placed to their credit an easy goal.

Then did Clapperton and Dangle and Brinkman gnash their teeth till they ached, and Fullerton, standing near, had his gibe.

“It was worth coming here in the rain to see that, wasn’t it?”

The match was not yet over. The Rendlesham men, startled into attention by this unexpected rebuff, took care that such a misadventure should not happen again, and making all the use they could of their superior weight, bore down the scrimmages and forced the ball into the open. Once they carried it through with a splendid rush, and their captain picking it up under the very feet of the boys, ran it forward a few yards, and took a drop-kick which missed by only a few inches.

A little later came Corder’s chance. He had lived all the term for this moment. If he was taken back to Fellsgarth on a shutter he would not care, so long as he did himself credit now.

He had a clear field to start with, and was well out of touch before the advance guard of the enemy bore down on him. Then it was a sight to see him wriggle and dodge, and twist and turn in and out among them, threading them like a needle through a string of beads, and slipping through their hands like an eel.

“Well played indeed, Corder!” cried Yorke.

Oh, what music was in the sound! What would he not dare now!

On he went, now diving under an arm, now staggering round a leg; now jumping like a kangaroo against an opponent. The very sight of his evolutions seemed to demoralise the Rendlesham men. They floundered and slid on the slippery grass, and made wild grabs without ever reaching him. It was really too ridiculous to be eluded by a raw hand like this—and yet he eluded them.

Half-way down the field he ran with a roar of applause at his back, and only a handful of the enemy left ahead. How splendid if he could only pass them, and make his record with a run from one goal to the other!

Alas! a swoop from behind greeted the proud thought; two hands clawed at his shoulders, and from his shoulders slipped to his waist, and from his waist slid down to his ankles, where for a moment they held, and sent the runner tripping over on his nose in the mud, with the ball spinning away a yard ahead.

It was all up. No! Fisher was on the spot, and at Fisher’s heels Ridgway. The Rendlesham backs flung themselves in the way, but only to divert, not to stop their career. When Corder picked himself up and rubbed the mud out of his eyes, the first thing he saw was Ridgway sitting behind the enemy’s line with the ball comfortably resting on his knee! It was another for the School—perhaps a goal.

Alas! on that ground the long side-kick was too much even for Yorke. It shot wide, and Rendlesham breathed again.

But the long and short of it was that the match was a tie; a goal and a try to each side; and that to Corder belonged the credit of a big hand in the lesser point.

“Awfully well run, Corder,” said the captain, as, time having been called, the two walked off the field together. “You must play for us again.”

After that, who should say life was not worth living?

The very weather seemed to change for Corder. The sun came out, flowers sprang up at his feet, birds started singing in the trees overhead. What a letter he would have to write home to-morrow! The captain’s pat on the back sent a glow all through him. Who wouldn’t be a Fellsgarth chap after all?

It scarcely damped his joy to perceive that neither Clapperton, Dangle, nor Brinkman shared in the general congratulations, but looked more black and threatening than ever as he passed. Pooh! what did he care for that!

How he enjoyed the glorious Rendlesham high tea, and the drive home in the rain with everybody talking and laughing and rejoicing, singing songs and shouting war-cries! He was quite sorry when it came to an end, and he had to dismount and go over alone to his own house.

He could hear the shouts and huzzas of the Classics across the Green as Wakefield’s turned out in a body to welcome their men. No one at Forder’s turned out to welcome him. The four prefects themselves had not even waited for him.

For the first time that day Corder felt himself wishing he had a little sympathy in his jubilation. It was dull, when everybody over on the other side was shouting himself hoarse, to hear not a “cheep” of congratulation from his own fellows.

However, it didn’t matter much. He went to his room and changed, and hoped his messmate Wilson would not be long in coming for supper and a gossip.

Wilson came presently, but his face was glum and his manner frigid.

“Oh, here you are, old chap; I’m peckish. Did you hear about the match, we—”

“Shut up,” said Wilson; “you’re a cad. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Corder put down his knife and fork, and looked up in amazement. This from Wilson! He knew Clapperton was sore about it, but Wilson—

He went on eating while thinking it out, and Wilson ate too in silence, and then rose to go.

“Are you not going to prepare to-night?”

“Yes, in Dangle’s room.”

And Corder was left alone.

This was too bad of Wilson—to-night of all nights. He would go and look up Selby. Selby, he knew, would be interested in the day’s news, for had they not practised drop-kicks together for an hour a day all this term?

Selby was in, but not at all glad to see him.

“Are you busy, old man?” asked Corder.

“I don’t want you here,” said Selby.

“Why, what’s the row?”

“Row? You’re a sneak, that’s the row. Cut!”

Surely Selby must be out of sorts to talk like that. Corder stood in the door for a moment, on the off-chance that his friend might be joking. But no; Selby turned his back and began to read a book.

This was getting monotonous. Corder returned to his study to think it out a little more. His fag, Cash, was there looking for a paper.

“Hullo, youngster! that you? We didn’t get beaten after all, to-day, I suppose you heard.”

Cash’s reply was laconic, to say the least of it. He turned round and put out his tongue.

“None of your cheek, I say,” said Corder, “or I’ll—”

“Howdareyou speak to me!” said the junior; “you’re a cad—I’m not going to fag for a cad.”

And he vanished.

Corder went to bed that night sorely perplexed. And his perplexity was not relieved when he rose next morning and found a paper on his table with the following genial notice:—

“Any boy in Forder’s found speaking to Corder the sneak will be cut by the house. By Order.”

Chapter Fourteen.The Shop Opens.Robert—no one knew his surname—was a regular institution at Fellsgarth. Pluralist and jack-of-all-trades as he was, he seemed unable to make much of a hand at anything he took up. He was School porter, owner of the School shop, keeper of the club properties, and occasional School policeman; and he discharged none of his functions well. The masters did not regard him with much confidence, the boys, for the most part, did not care for him, the other men about the place disliked him. And yet, as part and parcel of Fellsgarth, every one put up with him.As has already been hinted, his management of the School shop had been a conspicuous failure—both for himself and the young innocents who squandered their substance on his tarts. He complained that he could make no profit; and as his method for recouping himself was to supply the worst possible article at the highest possible price, his young customers neglected him and aggravated his loss.It was rumoured that another more questionable method of replenishing his exchequer was by laying odds on the School games, which (as in the case of the second Rendlesham match) did not always turn out in the way he expected. This, however, was only rumour, and was not to be reckoned among Bob’s known transgressions, which were general stupidity, surliness, unsteadiness, and an inveterate distaste for veracity.Such being his reputation, it astonished no one on the Monday following the events recorded in the last chapter to see the shutters of the shop at the Watch-tower Gate up, and a rudely scrawled announcement, “This shop is closed.”But what did cause astonishment was a subsequent announcement inscribed in print letters:—“This establishment will reopen on Wednesday under entirely new management. Superior grub at greatly reduced prices. No more shoe-leather or flat swipes! Best tarts 1 penny each; ditto ginger-beer 1½ pence a bottle. Fresh fruit and pastry daily. Rally round the old shop!“By Order.”Speculation ran high as to who the enterprising new tradesman could be. Some said it was Mrs Wisdom. Others said one of the Penchurch shops was going to run it as a branch. Others suggested that some of the seniors had a hand in it. But the truth never once leaked out.Our nine juniors played an artful part in that day’s business. They mingled with the crowd in front of the notice, and freely bandied about wild conjectures as to who the new manager or managers could be, at the same time hinting broadly thattheyintended to patronise the new concern.“Tell you what,” said D’Arcy, “perhaps it’s the doctor wants to turn an honest penny. Don’t blame him either.”“Perhaps it’s Rollitt,” suggested Cash, amid laughter. “What a game! He’ll go selling tarts by the pint and ginger-beer by the ounce. Whew! think of Rollitt’s ginger-beer.”“I asked Bob if he knew who it was,” said Wally, “and he said, ‘No, he wished he did; he’d get something out of him for good-will.’”“What’s that?” asked Ashby. “If he’d said bad temper, there might have been some of that going about.”“Anyhow,” said Wally, “I rather fancy the thing myself. The things can’t be worse than they have been, and if they’re fresh every day, they’re bound to be better, and the tarts are a halfpenny less, and so’s the ginger-pop.”“Hooroo!” said Cottle; “you can get half as much again for the same money. I wish they’d open to-day.”After which, one by one they tailed off, leaving a general impression behind them that whoever else was in the secret, these nine young innocent lambs were not.Matters had not advanced to this stage without considerable deliberation. Several committee meetings had been held, some of which, under Mr Stratton’s presidency, had been of a practical nature, others, without his controlling presence, had ended in dust. On the whole, however, the young merchant adventurers had exhibited a reasonable grasp of their responsibilities and an aptitude for dealing with the necessary details.One point discussed was whether the shop should be open all day, or only at certain times. Mr Stratton was in favour of the latter. He urged that during the off hours between eleven and twelve, and in the afternoon between four and six, would be ample.The committee argued, from personal experience, that there were other hours of the day when a fellow felt in the humour for a “blow out.” To this Mr Stratton replied, “Let him ‘blow out’ by all means, but not on the company’s premises. He could do his shopping during shop hours, and ‘blow out’ with his purchases at any hour of the day or night the School rules permitted. They couldn’t undertake to provide a banqueting hall for their customers.”“But,” urged the committee, “if you have a shopman, why not get your money’s worth out of him?”“Why waste our money on a shopman at all?” propounded Mr Stratton to his astounded fellow-directors. “Why not take turns behind the counter ourselves; say one of the Wheatfields and Cash one week, and Cottle and Ashby the next, and so on? The hours proposed were not school hours; and though the persons on duty might occasionally be done out of a game, still it would fall on all alike, and would be a little sacrifice for the common good.”“But,” said Percy, whose hair was on end at this tremendous proposition, “suppose Wally—that is, I mean, wouldn’t it be necessary to count the tarts before each chap went on duty and see how many there were at the end?”“It might with you and your lot,” retorted Wally, very red in the face. “It’d be best to have a weighing machine handy and charge you 8 pence a pound for every pound extra you weighed at the end of the day!”“We’ll neither count nor weigh,” said Mr Stratton; “we’ll trust to every fellow’s honour. Why, if we couldn’t do that, do you suppose the shop would keep open a week?”This impressed the meeting vastly, and the discussion was changed to the question of profits.The boys were in favour of screwing all they could out of their customers. They didn’t see why, if Bob sold bad tarts for three-halfpence, they shouldn’t sell good ones at least for the same price.“It’s giving it to ’em both ends,” said they.“Why not?” said the master. “We want the fellows to get the benefit. We don’t want all the profit. As it is, we shall make a farthing on every tart we sell. We ought to sell four times as many as Bob did, oughtn’t we?”“Quite that,” said they.“Very well; see how that works out.”And Mr Stratton took his chalk and worked out this sum on the black-board:—12 bad tarts at 1½ pence = 1 shilling, 6 pence, cost 9 pence, profit 9 pence.48 good tarts at 1 penny = 4 shillings, cost 3 shillings, profit 1 shilling.“You see,” said he, “if we can only increase the demand, we shall easily make Bob’s profit, and more. Having good tarts will increase it in one way, and selling cheap will increase it another. It’s worth trying, anyhow.”And so the deliberations went on, and the boys’ minds gradually took on the new idea.The thirty shillings, Mr Stratton reported, had been advanced, and Mrs Stratton was appointed a subcommittee to lay it out. A method of accounts was arranged. The first day’s stock was to be charged at the selling price to the shopman for the day. At the end of the day he was to hand over to the treasurer the money he had taken and what was left of the stock, which two items together ought to make up the sum of his responsibility. It was felt that in a very few days the committee would ascertain pretty nearly what quantity of each article was consumed, and would be able to order accordingly. Any deficiency was to be set down to bad management, and no other reason; and any shopman deficient three days running was to forfeit his right to officiate again during that term.Lots were solemnly drawn for the distinction of opening the shop, and the choice fell on D’Arcy, and Lickford, who for the next day or two went about shaking in their shoes. As the day drew nearer, the venture seemed a tremendous one, and Mr Stratton had to use all his powers of encouragement to keep his colleagues from not taking fright at the last moment.“It will all go swimmingly, you’ll see,” said he. “I will hold myself in readiness to come down and back you up if there’s the least hitch, but I shall be greatly disappointed if you need me.”The last act of the committee before commencing proceedings was to draw up a manifesto, which was copied out and duly affixed to the notice boards and the shop-shutters on the morning of the opening.Under the distinguished patronage of Mr and Mrs Stratton.The Fellsgarth Shop will be opened this day from 11 to 12,And 4 To 8,and daily (sundays excepted) till further notice.The following prime goods, at the cheap prices affixed.(Here followed a list of the stores.)Ready money. No tick. Change given.no more stomach-ache!!Real jam!Ripe fruit!Fresh pastry!All the season’s novelties. Nothing stale.Boys of Fellsgarth—Come in your thousands!No risk to man or boy.No favour.Masters and fags treated alike.All the profits for the clubs.Treasurer, Mrs Stratton.Managing directors, Nine gentlemen, Carefully Selected.President, Mr Stratton.Plenty for all. No questions asked.All are welcome.Come early and stay late.By Order.This soul-stirring manifesto, which had the hearty approval both of the president and treasurer (who carefully revised the spelling), threw some satisfactory light on the mystery. Who were the “carefully selected gentlemen” was still obscure, although it was generally held that Fellsgarth only contained nine individuals answering to that particular description. What was more important was that Mr and Mrs Stratton were at the back of the venture. If so, it was not a swindle, and the grub was pretty sure to be right. The new price list, moreover, was very satisfactory, and on the whole the hours were approved of.When the eleven o’clock bell sounded, on the Wednesday morning, a general movement was made for the Watch-Tower Gate, where, firmly entrenched behind a clean counter piled up with the good things a schoolboy holds dear, demurely stood D’Arcy and Lickford, looking very anxious and scared.At judiciously selected points among the crowd their friends looked on sympathetically.After the laughter which had greeted the discovery had died away, an awkward pause ensued. No one exactly liked to start. The seniors present felt their dignity would be compromised. The middle-boys did not like to do what the seniors were too shy to do. The juniors were afraid some one might laugh if they led off. Consequently for a minute or two every one stared at the two shopmen, who cast down their eyes, and blushed and simpered.At length, however, the ice was broken in a very pretty way. For Mrs Stratton on her way out of the school looked in, and taking in the situation, advanced to the counter and said—“A bottle of ginger-beer, if you please, Lickford.”Lickford, who, to use his own polite phrase, was “bossing the drinks and fruit” for the day, nearly tumbled down with the shock of this sudden challenge, and made a wild grab at the nearest bottle within reach. The eyes of Fellsgarth were upon him; he lost his head entirely, and made herculean efforts to draw the cork without loosing the wire. His contortions were terrible.When he could not hold the bottle firm enough between his knees, he tried gripping it between his feet. Then in a hot whisper he besought D’Arcy to hang on to the end, and for a time the bottle was invisible under the two. Then he took another, amid the enthusiastic cheers of the spectators, and was proceeding to release the corkscrew from the refractory vessel, when Mrs Stratton said in her pleasant way—“I see you keep the new kind of bottles that have the corks wired down. They are much better than the old, and it’s very little trouble undoing the wire.”This saved Lickford. In a moment the wire was removed, and the cork burst out triumphantly, even before it was pulled, showering a grateful froth of fizz into the waistcoat of the operator.“It’s beautifully well up. Thank you, Lickford, how much?” said Mrs Stratton.“They’re a shilling a dozen. I mean three-halfpence each,” said D’Arcy. “We can give you change.”“Here’s twopence. I’ll take a halfpenny apple. That will make it right, won’t it?”And amid loud cheers she departed.The ice thus broken, a rush took place, as Ridgway, who was poetical, said—“Fellows may step in where angels didn’t fear to tread.”Then did D’Arcy and Lickford pant and perspire, and wish they had never been born. Hands reached in from all sides, and helped themselves to cakes and tarts, and coppers showered in on them from nobody could tell where.They found themselves handing change out into space, and sowing sweets broadcast among the crowd.The other directors meanwhile, as in duty bound, nobly rallied round them, and added to their embarrassment.“Walk up, walk up!” shouted Wally. “Try our brandy-balls, eight a penny. Eight brandy-balls for Dalton; you chaps, look sharp. Change for a sov. for Clapperton; beg pardon, sixpence (didn’t know he kept such small coins). Hullo, hullo! stand by for my young brother Percy! He’s just a-going to begin. Fifteen jam tarts, half a pound of peppermints, half a dozen ginger-beer. Bite his money hard, D’Arcy; see there are no bad ’uns. I know the chap!”“Bah! I hope they’ve got better toffee here than that muck you make,” said Percy.“Come, wake up!” cried Cash. “I’ve been waiting five minutes for my cake.”“Can’t have ’em; we’ve run out,” said D’Arcy.“Well, you must be a green one only to get such a few,” said a middle-boy, who had also built his hopes on the same delicacy.“Very sorry,” said Percy to the company generally. “You must excuse these chaps—raw hands—they don’t know how to manage at present. Give ’em time. They’ll do better; won’t you, Lickford? Takes some time to get a notion into Lickford’s head, but when it gets there, my word, it sticks. Get in a double lot of cakes to-morrow, do you hear, or I shall give you the sack.”Despite these pleasant recriminations the business went on merrily. The “tuck” was pronounced a great advance on anything Robert had provided, and rumours of its excellence penetrated into quarters which had never contributed customers to the old shop.In the afternoon the crowd was less, but the business more steady. Mr Stratton dropped in for a slice of cake, and Mrs Wakefield and the three little Wakefields came to patronise the undertaking. One or two fellows, too, sent their fags to secure “extras” for tea, and one or two left orders for another day. Inquiries were made, moreover, for certain articles, such as lemons, tea-cakes, etcetera, which the shopmen took a note of as worth laying in a stock of. And the lack of demand for a few of the things they had, suggested to the same astute young merchants that they might be dispensed with in future.Of course, a few boys tried to interfere with the regulations by demanding “tick,” and wanting to make bargains. But they were promptly met by anon possumusfrom the directors present, and finally brought to reason by being referred to Mr Stratton.The day passed without the necessity of any appeal to the president. An anxious consultation was, however, held in his room after closing time. Naturally, owing to the exceptional rush, the accounts were a little out, but as they happened to be on the right side this was a matter for congratulation rather than distress. Nearly two pounds had been taken, and the stock left on hand was valued at five shillings, so that actually it was possible to repay half of the thirty shillings lent, after the very first day. Mr Stratton, however, advised that only ten shillings should be repaid this time, and the other five shillings put into a reserve fund, in case of need.“Of course, you can’t expect to do as big a business as this every day,” said he. “It will settle down to a regular jog-trot in a few days, and then we shall be able to judge much better how we stand. I shall be very well satisfied if we make about five shillings clear a day.”“I think you boys have started very well,” began the treasurer, but her husband held up his finger admonishingly.“I should have been very disappointed with them if they had not,” said he. “It’s easy enough to start, the thing will be to keep it up.”“Remember,” he added, “it will be better not to brag out of doors about our profits or that sort of thing. It will be time enough to talk about that when we are able to hand over a good lump sum to the clubs. Now it’s time you went to preparation. Good night all.”“I tell you what,” said Lickford to his fellow-shopman as they walked across the Green, “we shall have to be pretty smart to-morrow if we’re to get to the club meeting.”“Why,” said D’Arcy, “I thought none of you Modern cads were going to show up?”“We heard you’d all funked it,” said Wally.“I don’t blame them,” said Ashby; “they’ve not much to be proud of, those Modern chaps.”“Never mind,” said Fisher minor, “Fellsgarth can get on well enough without them.”The party came to a halt and regarded one another seriously, and Percy said—“Whoever told you we weren’t going to turn up, told crams. We’re coming. We’ll see you don’t have it all to yourselves, rather!”“My eye, won’t you get licked for it! Nice to belong to a house where you mayn’t sneeze unless your senior lets you.”“Go on! Shut up! See if you can’t canvass a bit. That’s what you’re best at—that, and getting it hot on the hands for cheating.” Whereupon the troops separated.The taunts of the Classics made their rivals wince, despite their affected contempt. To-morrow was the day of the meeting; and between now and then they must decide whether or not they would obey their own seniors and stay away, or revolt and take the consequences. The unanimous opinion was in favour of revolt, unless Clapperton made it uncommonly worth their while to obey.They were not destined to remain long in doubt, for the senior invaded their quarters that very evening.“Just remember, you youngsters,” said he, “no one is going to the meeting to-morrow from our side.”“Oh?”“Any fellow who goes will get it hot, I promise him.”“Ah! What about our conditions? What have you done about them?”“Put them in the coal-scuttle; and I’ve a good mind to put all five of you there too, for your impudence.”“Ah!”The captain turned on his heel, with a final warning.“That settles it, you chaps,” said Percy, when he had gone. “We go.”“Rather,” replied everybody.

Robert—no one knew his surname—was a regular institution at Fellsgarth. Pluralist and jack-of-all-trades as he was, he seemed unable to make much of a hand at anything he took up. He was School porter, owner of the School shop, keeper of the club properties, and occasional School policeman; and he discharged none of his functions well. The masters did not regard him with much confidence, the boys, for the most part, did not care for him, the other men about the place disliked him. And yet, as part and parcel of Fellsgarth, every one put up with him.

As has already been hinted, his management of the School shop had been a conspicuous failure—both for himself and the young innocents who squandered their substance on his tarts. He complained that he could make no profit; and as his method for recouping himself was to supply the worst possible article at the highest possible price, his young customers neglected him and aggravated his loss.

It was rumoured that another more questionable method of replenishing his exchequer was by laying odds on the School games, which (as in the case of the second Rendlesham match) did not always turn out in the way he expected. This, however, was only rumour, and was not to be reckoned among Bob’s known transgressions, which were general stupidity, surliness, unsteadiness, and an inveterate distaste for veracity.

Such being his reputation, it astonished no one on the Monday following the events recorded in the last chapter to see the shutters of the shop at the Watch-tower Gate up, and a rudely scrawled announcement, “This shop is closed.”

But what did cause astonishment was a subsequent announcement inscribed in print letters:—

“This establishment will reopen on Wednesday under entirely new management. Superior grub at greatly reduced prices. No more shoe-leather or flat swipes! Best tarts 1 penny each; ditto ginger-beer 1½ pence a bottle. Fresh fruit and pastry daily. Rally round the old shop!

“By Order.”

Speculation ran high as to who the enterprising new tradesman could be. Some said it was Mrs Wisdom. Others said one of the Penchurch shops was going to run it as a branch. Others suggested that some of the seniors had a hand in it. But the truth never once leaked out.

Our nine juniors played an artful part in that day’s business. They mingled with the crowd in front of the notice, and freely bandied about wild conjectures as to who the new manager or managers could be, at the same time hinting broadly thattheyintended to patronise the new concern.

“Tell you what,” said D’Arcy, “perhaps it’s the doctor wants to turn an honest penny. Don’t blame him either.”

“Perhaps it’s Rollitt,” suggested Cash, amid laughter. “What a game! He’ll go selling tarts by the pint and ginger-beer by the ounce. Whew! think of Rollitt’s ginger-beer.”

“I asked Bob if he knew who it was,” said Wally, “and he said, ‘No, he wished he did; he’d get something out of him for good-will.’”

“What’s that?” asked Ashby. “If he’d said bad temper, there might have been some of that going about.”

“Anyhow,” said Wally, “I rather fancy the thing myself. The things can’t be worse than they have been, and if they’re fresh every day, they’re bound to be better, and the tarts are a halfpenny less, and so’s the ginger-pop.”

“Hooroo!” said Cottle; “you can get half as much again for the same money. I wish they’d open to-day.”

After which, one by one they tailed off, leaving a general impression behind them that whoever else was in the secret, these nine young innocent lambs were not.

Matters had not advanced to this stage without considerable deliberation. Several committee meetings had been held, some of which, under Mr Stratton’s presidency, had been of a practical nature, others, without his controlling presence, had ended in dust. On the whole, however, the young merchant adventurers had exhibited a reasonable grasp of their responsibilities and an aptitude for dealing with the necessary details.

One point discussed was whether the shop should be open all day, or only at certain times. Mr Stratton was in favour of the latter. He urged that during the off hours between eleven and twelve, and in the afternoon between four and six, would be ample.

The committee argued, from personal experience, that there were other hours of the day when a fellow felt in the humour for a “blow out.” To this Mr Stratton replied, “Let him ‘blow out’ by all means, but not on the company’s premises. He could do his shopping during shop hours, and ‘blow out’ with his purchases at any hour of the day or night the School rules permitted. They couldn’t undertake to provide a banqueting hall for their customers.”

“But,” urged the committee, “if you have a shopman, why not get your money’s worth out of him?”

“Why waste our money on a shopman at all?” propounded Mr Stratton to his astounded fellow-directors. “Why not take turns behind the counter ourselves; say one of the Wheatfields and Cash one week, and Cottle and Ashby the next, and so on? The hours proposed were not school hours; and though the persons on duty might occasionally be done out of a game, still it would fall on all alike, and would be a little sacrifice for the common good.”

“But,” said Percy, whose hair was on end at this tremendous proposition, “suppose Wally—that is, I mean, wouldn’t it be necessary to count the tarts before each chap went on duty and see how many there were at the end?”

“It might with you and your lot,” retorted Wally, very red in the face. “It’d be best to have a weighing machine handy and charge you 8 pence a pound for every pound extra you weighed at the end of the day!”

“We’ll neither count nor weigh,” said Mr Stratton; “we’ll trust to every fellow’s honour. Why, if we couldn’t do that, do you suppose the shop would keep open a week?”

This impressed the meeting vastly, and the discussion was changed to the question of profits.

The boys were in favour of screwing all they could out of their customers. They didn’t see why, if Bob sold bad tarts for three-halfpence, they shouldn’t sell good ones at least for the same price.

“It’s giving it to ’em both ends,” said they.

“Why not?” said the master. “We want the fellows to get the benefit. We don’t want all the profit. As it is, we shall make a farthing on every tart we sell. We ought to sell four times as many as Bob did, oughtn’t we?”

“Quite that,” said they.

“Very well; see how that works out.”

And Mr Stratton took his chalk and worked out this sum on the black-board:—

12 bad tarts at 1½ pence = 1 shilling, 6 pence, cost 9 pence, profit 9 pence.

48 good tarts at 1 penny = 4 shillings, cost 3 shillings, profit 1 shilling.

“You see,” said he, “if we can only increase the demand, we shall easily make Bob’s profit, and more. Having good tarts will increase it in one way, and selling cheap will increase it another. It’s worth trying, anyhow.”

And so the deliberations went on, and the boys’ minds gradually took on the new idea.

The thirty shillings, Mr Stratton reported, had been advanced, and Mrs Stratton was appointed a subcommittee to lay it out. A method of accounts was arranged. The first day’s stock was to be charged at the selling price to the shopman for the day. At the end of the day he was to hand over to the treasurer the money he had taken and what was left of the stock, which two items together ought to make up the sum of his responsibility. It was felt that in a very few days the committee would ascertain pretty nearly what quantity of each article was consumed, and would be able to order accordingly. Any deficiency was to be set down to bad management, and no other reason; and any shopman deficient three days running was to forfeit his right to officiate again during that term.

Lots were solemnly drawn for the distinction of opening the shop, and the choice fell on D’Arcy, and Lickford, who for the next day or two went about shaking in their shoes. As the day drew nearer, the venture seemed a tremendous one, and Mr Stratton had to use all his powers of encouragement to keep his colleagues from not taking fright at the last moment.

“It will all go swimmingly, you’ll see,” said he. “I will hold myself in readiness to come down and back you up if there’s the least hitch, but I shall be greatly disappointed if you need me.”

The last act of the committee before commencing proceedings was to draw up a manifesto, which was copied out and duly affixed to the notice boards and the shop-shutters on the morning of the opening.

Under the distinguished patronage of Mr and Mrs Stratton.

The Fellsgarth Shop will be opened this day from 11 to 12,And 4 To 8,and daily (sundays excepted) till further notice.The following prime goods, at the cheap prices affixed.(Here followed a list of the stores.)Ready money. No tick. Change given.no more stomach-ache!!Real jam!Ripe fruit!Fresh pastry!All the season’s novelties. Nothing stale.Boys of Fellsgarth—Come in your thousands!No risk to man or boy.No favour.Masters and fags treated alike.All the profits for the clubs.Treasurer, Mrs Stratton.Managing directors, Nine gentlemen, Carefully Selected.President, Mr Stratton.Plenty for all. No questions asked.All are welcome.Come early and stay late.By Order.

The Fellsgarth Shop will be opened this day from 11 to 12,And 4 To 8,and daily (sundays excepted) till further notice.The following prime goods, at the cheap prices affixed.(Here followed a list of the stores.)Ready money. No tick. Change given.no more stomach-ache!!Real jam!Ripe fruit!Fresh pastry!All the season’s novelties. Nothing stale.Boys of Fellsgarth—Come in your thousands!No risk to man or boy.No favour.Masters and fags treated alike.All the profits for the clubs.Treasurer, Mrs Stratton.Managing directors, Nine gentlemen, Carefully Selected.President, Mr Stratton.Plenty for all. No questions asked.All are welcome.Come early and stay late.By Order.

This soul-stirring manifesto, which had the hearty approval both of the president and treasurer (who carefully revised the spelling), threw some satisfactory light on the mystery. Who were the “carefully selected gentlemen” was still obscure, although it was generally held that Fellsgarth only contained nine individuals answering to that particular description. What was more important was that Mr and Mrs Stratton were at the back of the venture. If so, it was not a swindle, and the grub was pretty sure to be right. The new price list, moreover, was very satisfactory, and on the whole the hours were approved of.

When the eleven o’clock bell sounded, on the Wednesday morning, a general movement was made for the Watch-Tower Gate, where, firmly entrenched behind a clean counter piled up with the good things a schoolboy holds dear, demurely stood D’Arcy and Lickford, looking very anxious and scared.

At judiciously selected points among the crowd their friends looked on sympathetically.

After the laughter which had greeted the discovery had died away, an awkward pause ensued. No one exactly liked to start. The seniors present felt their dignity would be compromised. The middle-boys did not like to do what the seniors were too shy to do. The juniors were afraid some one might laugh if they led off. Consequently for a minute or two every one stared at the two shopmen, who cast down their eyes, and blushed and simpered.

At length, however, the ice was broken in a very pretty way. For Mrs Stratton on her way out of the school looked in, and taking in the situation, advanced to the counter and said—

“A bottle of ginger-beer, if you please, Lickford.”

Lickford, who, to use his own polite phrase, was “bossing the drinks and fruit” for the day, nearly tumbled down with the shock of this sudden challenge, and made a wild grab at the nearest bottle within reach. The eyes of Fellsgarth were upon him; he lost his head entirely, and made herculean efforts to draw the cork without loosing the wire. His contortions were terrible.

When he could not hold the bottle firm enough between his knees, he tried gripping it between his feet. Then in a hot whisper he besought D’Arcy to hang on to the end, and for a time the bottle was invisible under the two. Then he took another, amid the enthusiastic cheers of the spectators, and was proceeding to release the corkscrew from the refractory vessel, when Mrs Stratton said in her pleasant way—

“I see you keep the new kind of bottles that have the corks wired down. They are much better than the old, and it’s very little trouble undoing the wire.”

This saved Lickford. In a moment the wire was removed, and the cork burst out triumphantly, even before it was pulled, showering a grateful froth of fizz into the waistcoat of the operator.

“It’s beautifully well up. Thank you, Lickford, how much?” said Mrs Stratton.

“They’re a shilling a dozen. I mean three-halfpence each,” said D’Arcy. “We can give you change.”

“Here’s twopence. I’ll take a halfpenny apple. That will make it right, won’t it?”

And amid loud cheers she departed.

The ice thus broken, a rush took place, as Ridgway, who was poetical, said—

“Fellows may step in where angels didn’t fear to tread.”

Then did D’Arcy and Lickford pant and perspire, and wish they had never been born. Hands reached in from all sides, and helped themselves to cakes and tarts, and coppers showered in on them from nobody could tell where.

They found themselves handing change out into space, and sowing sweets broadcast among the crowd.

The other directors meanwhile, as in duty bound, nobly rallied round them, and added to their embarrassment.

“Walk up, walk up!” shouted Wally. “Try our brandy-balls, eight a penny. Eight brandy-balls for Dalton; you chaps, look sharp. Change for a sov. for Clapperton; beg pardon, sixpence (didn’t know he kept such small coins). Hullo, hullo! stand by for my young brother Percy! He’s just a-going to begin. Fifteen jam tarts, half a pound of peppermints, half a dozen ginger-beer. Bite his money hard, D’Arcy; see there are no bad ’uns. I know the chap!”

“Bah! I hope they’ve got better toffee here than that muck you make,” said Percy.

“Come, wake up!” cried Cash. “I’ve been waiting five minutes for my cake.”

“Can’t have ’em; we’ve run out,” said D’Arcy.

“Well, you must be a green one only to get such a few,” said a middle-boy, who had also built his hopes on the same delicacy.

“Very sorry,” said Percy to the company generally. “You must excuse these chaps—raw hands—they don’t know how to manage at present. Give ’em time. They’ll do better; won’t you, Lickford? Takes some time to get a notion into Lickford’s head, but when it gets there, my word, it sticks. Get in a double lot of cakes to-morrow, do you hear, or I shall give you the sack.”

Despite these pleasant recriminations the business went on merrily. The “tuck” was pronounced a great advance on anything Robert had provided, and rumours of its excellence penetrated into quarters which had never contributed customers to the old shop.

In the afternoon the crowd was less, but the business more steady. Mr Stratton dropped in for a slice of cake, and Mrs Wakefield and the three little Wakefields came to patronise the undertaking. One or two fellows, too, sent their fags to secure “extras” for tea, and one or two left orders for another day. Inquiries were made, moreover, for certain articles, such as lemons, tea-cakes, etcetera, which the shopmen took a note of as worth laying in a stock of. And the lack of demand for a few of the things they had, suggested to the same astute young merchants that they might be dispensed with in future.

Of course, a few boys tried to interfere with the regulations by demanding “tick,” and wanting to make bargains. But they were promptly met by anon possumusfrom the directors present, and finally brought to reason by being referred to Mr Stratton.

The day passed without the necessity of any appeal to the president. An anxious consultation was, however, held in his room after closing time. Naturally, owing to the exceptional rush, the accounts were a little out, but as they happened to be on the right side this was a matter for congratulation rather than distress. Nearly two pounds had been taken, and the stock left on hand was valued at five shillings, so that actually it was possible to repay half of the thirty shillings lent, after the very first day. Mr Stratton, however, advised that only ten shillings should be repaid this time, and the other five shillings put into a reserve fund, in case of need.

“Of course, you can’t expect to do as big a business as this every day,” said he. “It will settle down to a regular jog-trot in a few days, and then we shall be able to judge much better how we stand. I shall be very well satisfied if we make about five shillings clear a day.”

“I think you boys have started very well,” began the treasurer, but her husband held up his finger admonishingly.

“I should have been very disappointed with them if they had not,” said he. “It’s easy enough to start, the thing will be to keep it up.”

“Remember,” he added, “it will be better not to brag out of doors about our profits or that sort of thing. It will be time enough to talk about that when we are able to hand over a good lump sum to the clubs. Now it’s time you went to preparation. Good night all.”

“I tell you what,” said Lickford to his fellow-shopman as they walked across the Green, “we shall have to be pretty smart to-morrow if we’re to get to the club meeting.”

“Why,” said D’Arcy, “I thought none of you Modern cads were going to show up?”

“We heard you’d all funked it,” said Wally.

“I don’t blame them,” said Ashby; “they’ve not much to be proud of, those Modern chaps.”

“Never mind,” said Fisher minor, “Fellsgarth can get on well enough without them.”

The party came to a halt and regarded one another seriously, and Percy said—

“Whoever told you we weren’t going to turn up, told crams. We’re coming. We’ll see you don’t have it all to yourselves, rather!”

“My eye, won’t you get licked for it! Nice to belong to a house where you mayn’t sneeze unless your senior lets you.”

“Go on! Shut up! See if you can’t canvass a bit. That’s what you’re best at—that, and getting it hot on the hands for cheating.” Whereupon the troops separated.

The taunts of the Classics made their rivals wince, despite their affected contempt. To-morrow was the day of the meeting; and between now and then they must decide whether or not they would obey their own seniors and stay away, or revolt and take the consequences. The unanimous opinion was in favour of revolt, unless Clapperton made it uncommonly worth their while to obey.

They were not destined to remain long in doubt, for the senior invaded their quarters that very evening.

“Just remember, you youngsters,” said he, “no one is going to the meeting to-morrow from our side.”

“Oh?”

“Any fellow who goes will get it hot, I promise him.”

“Ah! What about our conditions? What have you done about them?”

“Put them in the coal-scuttle; and I’ve a good mind to put all five of you there too, for your impudence.”

“Ah!”

The captain turned on his heel, with a final warning.

“That settles it, you chaps,” said Percy, when he had gone. “We go.”

“Rather,” replied everybody.

Chapter Fifteen.Something Wrong in the Accounts.Fisher major sat in his study after morning class, next morning, the picture of boredom and perplexity. Lists of names, receipt-books, cash-box, bills, and account-books were littered on the table before him. Between these and a cobweb on the ceiling his troubled looks travelled, as he gnawed the end of his pen, and passed his fingers aimlessly through his hair.There was something wrong; and what it was he could not for the life of him make out. To any one familiar with Fisher major’s business—or, rather, unbusiness—habits, there was nothing wonderful in that. He was happy-go-lucky in all his dealings. He could receive a subscription one day, and only remember, in a panic, to enter it a week after. His money he kept all over the place; some in his desk, some in the cash-box, some in the drawer of his inkstand. He had a vague idea that he had a special reason for dividing it thus—that one lot may have belonged to the School clubs, another to the House clubs, and another to something else. But which was which it passed his wit to remember.He had had his doubts of the business all along. His friends had urged him to take the office, and with their help he had persuaded himself its duties were simple and easily discharged. He had determined he would do the thing thoroughly well. He had bought these account-books out of his own private purse, and spent an evening in beautifully ruling them in red ink, with one column for the date, one for the name, and three for pounds, shillings, and pence. He had procured two letter-files, labelled respectively “Club” and “House,” into which to put his receipts. And he had provided himself with a dozen elastic bands and an equal number of paper-fasteners. What more could a treasurer desire?Alas! the beautiful account-books got mixed up with one another, the letter-files remained empty, and the elastic bands somehow did duty as football garters. The Club accounts were scrawled, for the most part, in pencil on the backs of envelopes, awaiting a grand transcription into the books; and the receipts, pending a similar fortunate time, where huddled away in the drawer with Greek verses and letters from the people at home.Things had now come to a pass. The captain had yesterday suggested that, in view of the meeting to-day, it would be well to have the accounts made up, so as to be able, if called upon, to state exactly how they stood financially.“All serene,” said Fisher; “I’ll let you have the lot in ten minutes.”It was now considerably more than ten hours since the rash undertaking had been given, and the accounts were considerably more confused than they had been when Fisher sat down to square them.The Club and House accounts were hopelessly mixed. Some fellows appeared to have paid several times over to both funds, and others not once to either. Worse than that, Fisher could not find his memorandum of what he had paid out in small disbursements since term began. Still worse, when he did come in desperation to lump both funds together, and deduct the total amount he had spent, he found himself between £4 and £5 out of pocket!That was the serious discovery which, on this particular morning, was preying on his spirits and making him look a picture of bewilderment.“I’m bothered if I can make it out,” said he to himself. “Everybody’s marked down as paid—I remember noticing that weeks ago. At that rate I ought to have £25 for the Clubs, and £9 12 shillings for the House. Yes, that’s right—I had that; there’s a note of it; three lots—£15 7 shillings 6 pence on September 1, £7 2 shillings 6 pence on September 13, and £12 2 shillings on another day—that makes the total. There you are. Why on earth did I put them away in separate lots? Then I paid £5 for the new goals, and something else—what was it? Oh, that was for the House balls—oh, but we are lumping the two together. What was it? I know, 17 shillings 6 pence—that’s £5 17 shillings 6 pence; and something else, I know, came to a pound—£6 17 shillings 6 pence. Take that from £34 12 shillings, leaves £27 14 shillings 6 pence—and I’ve only got £22 18 shillings 6 pence! Where, in the name of wonder, has the rest gone?”And once more the dismal operation of adding up, counting, and subtracting began anew, with the same, or almost the same, result—there was a mistake of something like £4 10 shillings, whichever way you looked at it.Dalton, who came in presently, could throw no further light on the problem. He added up the columns, counted the money, subtracted the payments and arrived at the same result.Had the difference been smaller, it might have been accounted for by a few subscriptions omitted or a few payments not entered. But £4 10 shillings was too big a sum to leak away by accident; and, with the exception of the new goals, Fisher major was confident nothing had been spent approaching the figure.Dalton then proposed a fresh hunt through the study, in case the missing sum might be hidden for safety in some corner. So the room was turned upside down; the bed-clothes were shaken out, pockets searched, books turned over, tea-pots peered into; but all to no purpose.The captain looked in while the search was proceeding.“Have you got the— Hullo, what’s up?”“Why,” said Fisher major, “there’s a discrepancy. We ought to have £27 14 shillings 6 pence, and there’s about £4 10 shillings short.”“Do you mean that’s missing in the Club accounts?”“Well, either in that or the House clubs, or in both lumped together. I say, I wish you’d add that up, there’s a good fellow. The addition may be wrong.”But no; the captain made it the same as Dalton.Ranger and Ridgway dropped in while the audit was in progress, and were promptly pounced upon to add the columns too. Evidently the mistake was not there. They made the total precisely the same.“It must be in the payments, then,” said Fisher. So the whole party sat down, and scrutinised the hapless treasurer’s bills and vouchers, and, after allowing him the benefit of every imaginable doubt, still brought the deficit out at the same uncompromising figure.“Let’s have another look round,” suggested Fisher. So once more the study was turned topsy-turvy, and every nook and cranny searched. But no money was there, nor any sign of it.The captain looked grave.“It’s precious awkward,” said he.“It’s sure to turn up,” said Fisher. “I’ll go over the whole thing again, and have the room searched.”“Meanwhile,” said Ranger, “it’s to be hoped no questions are asked by the fellows opposite.”“Not much chance; I hear they are none of them going to turn up,” said Dalton.“That’s their look-out,” responded the captain.Much to their disgust, Ashby and Fisher minor were summoned from the vicinity of the shop that morning to assist the treasurer in his hopeless search. They did not mind turning a study upside down on their own account, but they strongly objected to have to do it for any one else.Fisher major did not at first vouchsafe much information with regard to the missing object.“Look round everywhere,” said he, “and see if you see anything.”Ashby looked, and said he saw a lot of things.“I mean money, of course,” said the treasurer.Whereupon the two simultaneously made a grab at the loose cash on the table, declaring they had found it first go off.“No—not that. It’s some that’s missing.”“How much?” asked Ashby.“Never mind—a pound or two.”“Are you sure it’s about in the room?”“That’s what I want you to look and see, you young donkey!”“Two pounds,” said Ashby; “was it all in silver?”“No—it was three or four pounds—about £4 10. I don’t know what it was in.”“Four pound ten—that’s a lot,” said the young brother. “I thought you said you were hard up?”“So I did. It’s not my money, but the club’s. What’s that to do with it? I want you to see if you can find it while I’m down in class.”Whereupon they set to work. They emptied the contents of every drawer in a glorious heap on the floor. They shook out his socks, and turned the pockets of all his coats inside out. They pulled his bed about the room, and shook out all his sheets. They raked out his fire, and prised up a loose board in the floor. They emptied his basins into his bath, and investigated the works of his eight-day clock. But high or low they could find no money.Fisher’s study did not get over that morning’s quest in a hurry. When the owner returned, he wished devoutly he had never been ass enough to confide the task to a couple of raw Goths like these. Whatever chance there may have been before of discovering any mislaid article, it was now hopelessly and irredeemably gone.He dismissed the two youngsters with a kick, which they felt to be very ungrateful after all the trouble they had taken. Limp in spirits and grimy in personal appearance, they crawled away to the shop to console themselves with ginger-beer and a cheese-cake.“Hullo,” said Lickford, as they arrived, “what have you been up to? Sweeping the chimneys? I heard they wanted it on your side. What’ll you have? We’ve been doing prime. Where have you been?”“We’ve been hunting about in my senior’s study for some club money that’s lost; about four pou—”“Shut up!” said Ashby, nudging his companion. “What do you want to blab all over the place about it for?”“How much?—four pounds?” said a voice near; and looking round, to their horror they saw Dangle.“All right,” said Ashby, trying to save the situation, “it’s bound to turn up. He stuck it in a specially safe place, and can’t remember where. Look sharp with the ginger-beer, young Lickford.”“Money down first,” said Lickford. “Catch me trusting any of you Classic chaps with tick! You’ve got no tin generally, to begin with, and then you go and lose it.”“That’s better than stealing it,” retorted Ashby.“The thing is,” said Dangle, breaking in on these pleasant recriminations, “it wouldn’t matter if it was Fisher’s own money that was lost. But it belongs to all of us.”“I tell you he’s found it by now,” said Ashby. Then, turning to Fisher minor, he whispered, “you howling young ass, you’ve done it! Now there’ll be a regular row, and your brother will have you to thank for it!”“Don’t blame him,” said Dangle. “It’s quite right of him to tell the truth.”With which highly moral pronouncement the Modern senior strolled away.Lickford was too much engrossed by a sudden influx of customers to improve the occasion; and Fisher minor, who never enjoyed ginger-beer less in his life, was allowed to depart in peace to meditate on the evil of his ways, and the possible hot water he had been preparing for his brother.He had sense enough to reflect that he had better make a clean breast of it to his brother at once.To his surprise, the latter took the news that Dangle had heard of the deficiency in the accounts more quietly than he had expected.“I do wish you’d hold your tongue out of doors about things that don’t concern you,” said he.“Will Dangle get you into a row?” asked Fisher minor.“Dangle? I’m not responsible to him more than to any one else. The money’s lost; and unless I can find it or make out where the mistake comes in, I shall have to stump up—that’s all.”“But, I say, you haven’t got money enough,” said the boy.“I know that, you young duffer.”“Whatever will you do?”Fisher major laughed.“I shan’t steal it, if that’s any comfort to you; and I shan’t cook the accounts.”“I say, I wonder if Rollitt could lend it you. He must have some money, for he paid for Widow Wisdom’s new boat, you know.”“I heard of that. I wish I saw my way to paying my debts as well as he did.”“I say, shall I ask him?”“Certainly not. The best thing you can do is to shut up.”Fisher minor felt very grateful to his brother for not thrashing him, and went in to afternoon school meekly, though out of spirits.“Well,” said D’Arcy, as he took his place, “what’s the latest? Who are you going to get into a mess now! Has Yorke been swindling anybody lately, or Ranger been getting tight! You’re bound to have some story about somebody.”“I didn’t mean— It’s not wicked to lose money,” pleaded Fisher minor. “I never thought—”“That’s just it,” said Wally. “You couldn’t if you tried. Dangle will make a nice thing out of it, thanks to you. Classic treasurer been and collared Modern boys’ money—that sort of thing—and they’ll kick him out and stick in one of their own lot, and call it triumph of honesty. Oh, you beauty; youcando things nicely when you try?”“I wish I’d never come up here at all,” moaned Fisher minor.“Humph. That would have been a bad go for Fellsgarth,” said D’Arcy. “Shut up—Forder’s looking. If we’re lagged we shan’t get in to the meeting.”The dreaded misadventure did not occur; and punctually at the hour our four young gentlemen trooped into Hall. Everything was very quiet there. The place was only half full. The Classics had turned up in force, but the mutineering house was so far unrepresented. Presently, however, five juvenile figures might be seen marching arm in arm across the Green, keeping a sharp look-out on every side.Before they arrived in Hall, a solitary figure wearing the Modern colours had made his way up to the seniors’ end. It was Corder, looking very limp and haggard, and with a savage flash of the eyes which told how ill “Coventry” was agreeing with his spirits. The cheers, with which he was greeted, due quite as much to his pluck in coming to-day as to his exploit at the match last Saturday, appeared to disconcert rather than please him, and he took a corner seat as far as possible from the Classic seniors present. When, however, Percy and Co. entered the Hall, a much livelier demonstration ensued. Cheers and compliments and pats on the back showered fast on the youthful “blacklegs,” and tended greatly to exaggerate in their own eyes the importance of their action.“We shall get jolly well welted for it, you fellows,” said Percy, with all the swagger of a popular martyr. “Never mind; we aren’t going to be done out of Hall for anybody.”“At any rate, they won’t hurtyoufor it,” cried Wally, disparaging. “Kids like you won’t hurt.”“We’ve come to see you cads don’t get it all your own way,” said Cash. “That’s what we’ve come for!”“Ho, ho! Hope you’ve brought your lunch. You’ll be kept here a day or two, if you’re going to wait for that!”When Yorke and the other prefects arrived on the scene there were, of course, loud cheers; but as the opposition was not there to make any counter-demonstration, it was not quite as noisy as on former occasions.Percy did, indeed, attempt to get up a little opposition at this stage by calling for “three cheers for the Moderns”; but as he was left to give them by himself—even his own adherents declining to be drawn into cheers for Clapperton—the display fell rather flat.The captain’s speech was short and to the point. Of course they knew why the meeting was called. There had been mutiny at Fellsgarth. Fellows had deliberately set themselves against his authority as captain, which was a minor thing, and against the success of Fellsgarth in sports, which was a low and shabby thing. (Cheers.) He wasn’t going to mention names; but he meant to say this, that they had much better dissolve the club right away—(No, no)—than not all pull together. Last Saturday, as every one knew, they had been left utterly in the lurch; and but for good luck, and the good play of some of the fifteen—amongst whom, he was glad to say, was one fellow who had had the pluck to act on his own judgment of what was due to the School—(loud and prolonged cheers, in the midst of which Corder perked up, and looked pleased)—they had held their own with a very scratch team. They couldn’t expect to do as much again—(Why not?)—and itwas notfair to the School to play matches without all their best men in the team. The proposal he had to make was that unless the fellows now standing out chose to return to their allegiance to the School within a week, all future matches for the term should be scratched, and the club dissolved.The captain’s proposal caused considerable consternation. Ridgway rose, and said he considered the motion dealt far too leniently with the mutineers. He would say, drum them out of the club, and reorganise without them.Denton asked if it would not be more honest and straightforward to summon them to the next match, and if they didn’t turn up give them the thrashing they deserved?Fisher major said he supported the captain’s proposal. It was nonsense their playing with scratch teams, and letting it be supposed that was the best the School could do. Some of the fellows on strike were no doubt good players, and that made it all the more discreditable of them to try to damage the School record by crippling the team. They no doubt hoped that they would be begged to rejoin on their—own terms. Rather than that, he was in favour of disbanding the club, and letting the fellows devote their energy to running and jumping, and other sports, where each fellow could distinguish himself independently of what any others chose to do. (Hear, hear.)Ranger also supported Yorke’s motion. Very likely the mutineers would crow, and say the club couldn’t get on without them. No more they could, in a sense. But he, for one, was not going to ask them to come back, and would sooner break up the club, and let them have the satisfaction of knowing they had injured Fellsgarth.Amid loud cheers Corder followed. He was sorry, he said, there was to be no more football, but supposed there was nothing else they could do. He was glad to see some Moderns present, even though they were only juniors. (Laughter.) It showed that there were some fellows on the Modern side that stuck by the School. He fancied these youngsters could take care of themselves. He was glad to hear a human voice again. (Laughter.) It might be fun to some present, but he could assure them it was none to him. No one had spoken to him for four days. He was cut by his house, and had to thank even some of the juniors present for assisting to make his life in Forder’s miserable. He didn’t care much, so far. They might make him cave in, in the long run. (No! Stick out!) Let the fellow who cried “Stick out,” come and try it. His only offence had been that he had played for the School. To do anything for the School was now considered a crime on the Modern side. (Shame.) Anyhow, he should vote for the captain’s motion; and though he wasn’t particularly sweet on the Classics as a body, he was beginning to think they weren’t quite as bad as his own side.Percy hereupon rose, amid derisive cheers. He didn’t know why the names of him and his lot had been brought in; but he just wanted to say that they were here to-day because they had a right to come, and weren’t going to be kept out by anybody—not if they knew it. (Rather not!) He and his lot thought there wasn’t much to choose between anybody, especially the juniors of the Classic side, who thought they were jolly clever, but were about the biggest stuck-uppest louts he— (Order. Kick him out.) He hoped the meeting would rally round the School shop, where every one was treated alike, and got the best grub for the money of any school going. They were going to get some Ribston— (Order. Time.) All right. They shouldn’t hear what he was going to say now. (Loud cheers.)Yorke said they all seemed to be pretty much of the same mind; and he would put his motion to the vote.This accordingly was done, and carried without a dissentient voice.

Fisher major sat in his study after morning class, next morning, the picture of boredom and perplexity. Lists of names, receipt-books, cash-box, bills, and account-books were littered on the table before him. Between these and a cobweb on the ceiling his troubled looks travelled, as he gnawed the end of his pen, and passed his fingers aimlessly through his hair.

There was something wrong; and what it was he could not for the life of him make out. To any one familiar with Fisher major’s business—or, rather, unbusiness—habits, there was nothing wonderful in that. He was happy-go-lucky in all his dealings. He could receive a subscription one day, and only remember, in a panic, to enter it a week after. His money he kept all over the place; some in his desk, some in the cash-box, some in the drawer of his inkstand. He had a vague idea that he had a special reason for dividing it thus—that one lot may have belonged to the School clubs, another to the House clubs, and another to something else. But which was which it passed his wit to remember.

He had had his doubts of the business all along. His friends had urged him to take the office, and with their help he had persuaded himself its duties were simple and easily discharged. He had determined he would do the thing thoroughly well. He had bought these account-books out of his own private purse, and spent an evening in beautifully ruling them in red ink, with one column for the date, one for the name, and three for pounds, shillings, and pence. He had procured two letter-files, labelled respectively “Club” and “House,” into which to put his receipts. And he had provided himself with a dozen elastic bands and an equal number of paper-fasteners. What more could a treasurer desire?

Alas! the beautiful account-books got mixed up with one another, the letter-files remained empty, and the elastic bands somehow did duty as football garters. The Club accounts were scrawled, for the most part, in pencil on the backs of envelopes, awaiting a grand transcription into the books; and the receipts, pending a similar fortunate time, where huddled away in the drawer with Greek verses and letters from the people at home.

Things had now come to a pass. The captain had yesterday suggested that, in view of the meeting to-day, it would be well to have the accounts made up, so as to be able, if called upon, to state exactly how they stood financially.

“All serene,” said Fisher; “I’ll let you have the lot in ten minutes.”

It was now considerably more than ten hours since the rash undertaking had been given, and the accounts were considerably more confused than they had been when Fisher sat down to square them.

The Club and House accounts were hopelessly mixed. Some fellows appeared to have paid several times over to both funds, and others not once to either. Worse than that, Fisher could not find his memorandum of what he had paid out in small disbursements since term began. Still worse, when he did come in desperation to lump both funds together, and deduct the total amount he had spent, he found himself between £4 and £5 out of pocket!

That was the serious discovery which, on this particular morning, was preying on his spirits and making him look a picture of bewilderment.

“I’m bothered if I can make it out,” said he to himself. “Everybody’s marked down as paid—I remember noticing that weeks ago. At that rate I ought to have £25 for the Clubs, and £9 12 shillings for the House. Yes, that’s right—I had that; there’s a note of it; three lots—£15 7 shillings 6 pence on September 1, £7 2 shillings 6 pence on September 13, and £12 2 shillings on another day—that makes the total. There you are. Why on earth did I put them away in separate lots? Then I paid £5 for the new goals, and something else—what was it? Oh, that was for the House balls—oh, but we are lumping the two together. What was it? I know, 17 shillings 6 pence—that’s £5 17 shillings 6 pence; and something else, I know, came to a pound—£6 17 shillings 6 pence. Take that from £34 12 shillings, leaves £27 14 shillings 6 pence—and I’ve only got £22 18 shillings 6 pence! Where, in the name of wonder, has the rest gone?”

And once more the dismal operation of adding up, counting, and subtracting began anew, with the same, or almost the same, result—there was a mistake of something like £4 10 shillings, whichever way you looked at it.

Dalton, who came in presently, could throw no further light on the problem. He added up the columns, counted the money, subtracted the payments and arrived at the same result.

Had the difference been smaller, it might have been accounted for by a few subscriptions omitted or a few payments not entered. But £4 10 shillings was too big a sum to leak away by accident; and, with the exception of the new goals, Fisher major was confident nothing had been spent approaching the figure.

Dalton then proposed a fresh hunt through the study, in case the missing sum might be hidden for safety in some corner. So the room was turned upside down; the bed-clothes were shaken out, pockets searched, books turned over, tea-pots peered into; but all to no purpose.

The captain looked in while the search was proceeding.

“Have you got the— Hullo, what’s up?”

“Why,” said Fisher major, “there’s a discrepancy. We ought to have £27 14 shillings 6 pence, and there’s about £4 10 shillings short.”

“Do you mean that’s missing in the Club accounts?”

“Well, either in that or the House clubs, or in both lumped together. I say, I wish you’d add that up, there’s a good fellow. The addition may be wrong.”

But no; the captain made it the same as Dalton.

Ranger and Ridgway dropped in while the audit was in progress, and were promptly pounced upon to add the columns too. Evidently the mistake was not there. They made the total precisely the same.

“It must be in the payments, then,” said Fisher. So the whole party sat down, and scrutinised the hapless treasurer’s bills and vouchers, and, after allowing him the benefit of every imaginable doubt, still brought the deficit out at the same uncompromising figure.

“Let’s have another look round,” suggested Fisher. So once more the study was turned topsy-turvy, and every nook and cranny searched. But no money was there, nor any sign of it.

The captain looked grave.

“It’s precious awkward,” said he.

“It’s sure to turn up,” said Fisher. “I’ll go over the whole thing again, and have the room searched.”

“Meanwhile,” said Ranger, “it’s to be hoped no questions are asked by the fellows opposite.”

“Not much chance; I hear they are none of them going to turn up,” said Dalton.

“That’s their look-out,” responded the captain.

Much to their disgust, Ashby and Fisher minor were summoned from the vicinity of the shop that morning to assist the treasurer in his hopeless search. They did not mind turning a study upside down on their own account, but they strongly objected to have to do it for any one else.

Fisher major did not at first vouchsafe much information with regard to the missing object.

“Look round everywhere,” said he, “and see if you see anything.”

Ashby looked, and said he saw a lot of things.

“I mean money, of course,” said the treasurer.

Whereupon the two simultaneously made a grab at the loose cash on the table, declaring they had found it first go off.

“No—not that. It’s some that’s missing.”

“How much?” asked Ashby.

“Never mind—a pound or two.”

“Are you sure it’s about in the room?”

“That’s what I want you to look and see, you young donkey!”

“Two pounds,” said Ashby; “was it all in silver?”

“No—it was three or four pounds—about £4 10. I don’t know what it was in.”

“Four pound ten—that’s a lot,” said the young brother. “I thought you said you were hard up?”

“So I did. It’s not my money, but the club’s. What’s that to do with it? I want you to see if you can find it while I’m down in class.”

Whereupon they set to work. They emptied the contents of every drawer in a glorious heap on the floor. They shook out his socks, and turned the pockets of all his coats inside out. They pulled his bed about the room, and shook out all his sheets. They raked out his fire, and prised up a loose board in the floor. They emptied his basins into his bath, and investigated the works of his eight-day clock. But high or low they could find no money.

Fisher’s study did not get over that morning’s quest in a hurry. When the owner returned, he wished devoutly he had never been ass enough to confide the task to a couple of raw Goths like these. Whatever chance there may have been before of discovering any mislaid article, it was now hopelessly and irredeemably gone.

He dismissed the two youngsters with a kick, which they felt to be very ungrateful after all the trouble they had taken. Limp in spirits and grimy in personal appearance, they crawled away to the shop to console themselves with ginger-beer and a cheese-cake.

“Hullo,” said Lickford, as they arrived, “what have you been up to? Sweeping the chimneys? I heard they wanted it on your side. What’ll you have? We’ve been doing prime. Where have you been?”

“We’ve been hunting about in my senior’s study for some club money that’s lost; about four pou—”

“Shut up!” said Ashby, nudging his companion. “What do you want to blab all over the place about it for?”

“How much?—four pounds?” said a voice near; and looking round, to their horror they saw Dangle.

“All right,” said Ashby, trying to save the situation, “it’s bound to turn up. He stuck it in a specially safe place, and can’t remember where. Look sharp with the ginger-beer, young Lickford.”

“Money down first,” said Lickford. “Catch me trusting any of you Classic chaps with tick! You’ve got no tin generally, to begin with, and then you go and lose it.”

“That’s better than stealing it,” retorted Ashby.

“The thing is,” said Dangle, breaking in on these pleasant recriminations, “it wouldn’t matter if it was Fisher’s own money that was lost. But it belongs to all of us.”

“I tell you he’s found it by now,” said Ashby. Then, turning to Fisher minor, he whispered, “you howling young ass, you’ve done it! Now there’ll be a regular row, and your brother will have you to thank for it!”

“Don’t blame him,” said Dangle. “It’s quite right of him to tell the truth.”

With which highly moral pronouncement the Modern senior strolled away.

Lickford was too much engrossed by a sudden influx of customers to improve the occasion; and Fisher minor, who never enjoyed ginger-beer less in his life, was allowed to depart in peace to meditate on the evil of his ways, and the possible hot water he had been preparing for his brother.

He had sense enough to reflect that he had better make a clean breast of it to his brother at once.

To his surprise, the latter took the news that Dangle had heard of the deficiency in the accounts more quietly than he had expected.

“I do wish you’d hold your tongue out of doors about things that don’t concern you,” said he.

“Will Dangle get you into a row?” asked Fisher minor.

“Dangle? I’m not responsible to him more than to any one else. The money’s lost; and unless I can find it or make out where the mistake comes in, I shall have to stump up—that’s all.”

“But, I say, you haven’t got money enough,” said the boy.

“I know that, you young duffer.”

“Whatever will you do?”

Fisher major laughed.

“I shan’t steal it, if that’s any comfort to you; and I shan’t cook the accounts.”

“I say, I wonder if Rollitt could lend it you. He must have some money, for he paid for Widow Wisdom’s new boat, you know.”

“I heard of that. I wish I saw my way to paying my debts as well as he did.”

“I say, shall I ask him?”

“Certainly not. The best thing you can do is to shut up.”

Fisher minor felt very grateful to his brother for not thrashing him, and went in to afternoon school meekly, though out of spirits.

“Well,” said D’Arcy, as he took his place, “what’s the latest? Who are you going to get into a mess now! Has Yorke been swindling anybody lately, or Ranger been getting tight! You’re bound to have some story about somebody.”

“I didn’t mean— It’s not wicked to lose money,” pleaded Fisher minor. “I never thought—”

“That’s just it,” said Wally. “You couldn’t if you tried. Dangle will make a nice thing out of it, thanks to you. Classic treasurer been and collared Modern boys’ money—that sort of thing—and they’ll kick him out and stick in one of their own lot, and call it triumph of honesty. Oh, you beauty; youcando things nicely when you try?”

“I wish I’d never come up here at all,” moaned Fisher minor.

“Humph. That would have been a bad go for Fellsgarth,” said D’Arcy. “Shut up—Forder’s looking. If we’re lagged we shan’t get in to the meeting.”

The dreaded misadventure did not occur; and punctually at the hour our four young gentlemen trooped into Hall. Everything was very quiet there. The place was only half full. The Classics had turned up in force, but the mutineering house was so far unrepresented. Presently, however, five juvenile figures might be seen marching arm in arm across the Green, keeping a sharp look-out on every side.

Before they arrived in Hall, a solitary figure wearing the Modern colours had made his way up to the seniors’ end. It was Corder, looking very limp and haggard, and with a savage flash of the eyes which told how ill “Coventry” was agreeing with his spirits. The cheers, with which he was greeted, due quite as much to his pluck in coming to-day as to his exploit at the match last Saturday, appeared to disconcert rather than please him, and he took a corner seat as far as possible from the Classic seniors present. When, however, Percy and Co. entered the Hall, a much livelier demonstration ensued. Cheers and compliments and pats on the back showered fast on the youthful “blacklegs,” and tended greatly to exaggerate in their own eyes the importance of their action.

“We shall get jolly well welted for it, you fellows,” said Percy, with all the swagger of a popular martyr. “Never mind; we aren’t going to be done out of Hall for anybody.”

“At any rate, they won’t hurtyoufor it,” cried Wally, disparaging. “Kids like you won’t hurt.”

“We’ve come to see you cads don’t get it all your own way,” said Cash. “That’s what we’ve come for!”

“Ho, ho! Hope you’ve brought your lunch. You’ll be kept here a day or two, if you’re going to wait for that!”

When Yorke and the other prefects arrived on the scene there were, of course, loud cheers; but as the opposition was not there to make any counter-demonstration, it was not quite as noisy as on former occasions.

Percy did, indeed, attempt to get up a little opposition at this stage by calling for “three cheers for the Moderns”; but as he was left to give them by himself—even his own adherents declining to be drawn into cheers for Clapperton—the display fell rather flat.

The captain’s speech was short and to the point. Of course they knew why the meeting was called. There had been mutiny at Fellsgarth. Fellows had deliberately set themselves against his authority as captain, which was a minor thing, and against the success of Fellsgarth in sports, which was a low and shabby thing. (Cheers.) He wasn’t going to mention names; but he meant to say this, that they had much better dissolve the club right away—(No, no)—than not all pull together. Last Saturday, as every one knew, they had been left utterly in the lurch; and but for good luck, and the good play of some of the fifteen—amongst whom, he was glad to say, was one fellow who had had the pluck to act on his own judgment of what was due to the School—(loud and prolonged cheers, in the midst of which Corder perked up, and looked pleased)—they had held their own with a very scratch team. They couldn’t expect to do as much again—(Why not?)—and itwas notfair to the School to play matches without all their best men in the team. The proposal he had to make was that unless the fellows now standing out chose to return to their allegiance to the School within a week, all future matches for the term should be scratched, and the club dissolved.

The captain’s proposal caused considerable consternation. Ridgway rose, and said he considered the motion dealt far too leniently with the mutineers. He would say, drum them out of the club, and reorganise without them.

Denton asked if it would not be more honest and straightforward to summon them to the next match, and if they didn’t turn up give them the thrashing they deserved?

Fisher major said he supported the captain’s proposal. It was nonsense their playing with scratch teams, and letting it be supposed that was the best the School could do. Some of the fellows on strike were no doubt good players, and that made it all the more discreditable of them to try to damage the School record by crippling the team. They no doubt hoped that they would be begged to rejoin on their—own terms. Rather than that, he was in favour of disbanding the club, and letting the fellows devote their energy to running and jumping, and other sports, where each fellow could distinguish himself independently of what any others chose to do. (Hear, hear.)

Ranger also supported Yorke’s motion. Very likely the mutineers would crow, and say the club couldn’t get on without them. No more they could, in a sense. But he, for one, was not going to ask them to come back, and would sooner break up the club, and let them have the satisfaction of knowing they had injured Fellsgarth.

Amid loud cheers Corder followed. He was sorry, he said, there was to be no more football, but supposed there was nothing else they could do. He was glad to see some Moderns present, even though they were only juniors. (Laughter.) It showed that there were some fellows on the Modern side that stuck by the School. He fancied these youngsters could take care of themselves. He was glad to hear a human voice again. (Laughter.) It might be fun to some present, but he could assure them it was none to him. No one had spoken to him for four days. He was cut by his house, and had to thank even some of the juniors present for assisting to make his life in Forder’s miserable. He didn’t care much, so far. They might make him cave in, in the long run. (No! Stick out!) Let the fellow who cried “Stick out,” come and try it. His only offence had been that he had played for the School. To do anything for the School was now considered a crime on the Modern side. (Shame.) Anyhow, he should vote for the captain’s motion; and though he wasn’t particularly sweet on the Classics as a body, he was beginning to think they weren’t quite as bad as his own side.

Percy hereupon rose, amid derisive cheers. He didn’t know why the names of him and his lot had been brought in; but he just wanted to say that they were here to-day because they had a right to come, and weren’t going to be kept out by anybody—not if they knew it. (Rather not!) He and his lot thought there wasn’t much to choose between anybody, especially the juniors of the Classic side, who thought they were jolly clever, but were about the biggest stuck-uppest louts he— (Order. Kick him out.) He hoped the meeting would rally round the School shop, where every one was treated alike, and got the best grub for the money of any school going. They were going to get some Ribston— (Order. Time.) All right. They shouldn’t hear what he was going to say now. (Loud cheers.)

Yorke said they all seemed to be pretty much of the same mind; and he would put his motion to the vote.

This accordingly was done, and carried without a dissentient voice.

Back to IndexNext