This had been his only object in inviting the boys. He had nothing momentous to say, and no important change to propose. Indeed, his object appeared to be more to get them to talk among themselves on matters of common interest to the school, and to let them see that his sympathy was with them in their efforts for the public good.
No reference was made to the state of affairs in Parrett’s, or to the rivalries of the two captains. That the doctor knew all about these matters no one doubted, but he took the wise course of leaving them to right themselves, and at the same time of making it very clear what his opinions were of the effect of disunion and divided interest in a great public school.
Altogether the evening was profitably and pleasantly spent, and when at length the boys took their leave it was with increased respect for the head master and one another.
The ladies, greatly to their relief, did not return to the scene.
“Miss Stringer,” said Fairbairn, as the three walked together across the quadrangle, “doesn’t seem to appreciate cricket.”
The others laughed.
“I say,” said Bloomfield, “you put your foot into it awfully! She thought you were chaffing her all the time.”
“Did she? What a pity!” replied Fairbairn.
“Of course, we were bound to help you out when you were once in,” continued Bloomfield. “But I don’t fancy we three will be asked up there again in a hurry.”
They came to the schoolhouse gate, and Fairbairn said good-night. Riddell and Bloomfield walked on together towards Parrett’s.
“Oh, Bloomfield!” said the captain, nervously, “I just wanted to tell you that I believe I have been all wrong in my guess about the boat-race affair. The boy I suspected, I now fancy, had nothing to do with it.”
“You are still determined to keep it all to yourself, then?” asked Bloomfield, somewhat coldly.
“Of course,” replied the captain.
At this point they reached Parrett’s. Neither boy had any inclination to pursue the unpleasant topic — all the more unpleasant because it was the one bar to a friendship which both desired.
“Good-night,” said Bloomfield, stiffly.
“Good-night,” replied the captain.
Chapter Thirty
New Lights on old Questions
Fairbairn was startled next morning while engaged over his toilet by a sudden visit from the captain.
What could be wrong to bring him there at this hour, with a face full of anxiety and a voice full of concern, as he inquired, “Will you do me a favour, old man?”
Fairbairn knew his friend had been in trouble for some time past, and was sore beset on many hands. He had not attempted to intrude into his secrets or to volunteer any aid. For he knew Riddell would ask him if he wanted it. In proof of which here he was.
“Of course, I will,” replied he, “if I can.”
“Do you happen to have a pot of jam you could lend me?”
Fairbairn fairly staggered at this unexpected request. He had imagined he was to be asked at the very least to accompany his friend on some matter of moment to the doctor’s study, or to share some tremendous secret affecting the honour of Willoughby. And to be asked now for the loan of a pot of jam was too great a shock for his gravity, and he burst out laughing.
“A pot of jam!” he exclaimed. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Oh, any sort you’ve got,” said the captain, eagerly; “and I suppose you haven’t got a pie of any sort, or some muffins?”
Fairbairn gaped at his visitor with something like apprehension as he came out with this extraordinary request. The captain’s voice was grave, and no suspicion of a jest lurked in his face. Could he possibly have succumbed to the mental strain of the past term, and taken leave of his wits?
“What are you talking about, Riddell?” asked Fairbairn, in tones almost of pity. “Has anything happened to you?”
Riddell looked at the speaker inquisitively for a moment, then broke out into a laugh.
“What an ass I am! I forgot to tell you what I wanted them for. The fact is, I asked two kids to breakfast this morning, and I just remembered I had nothing but tea and toast to offer them; and it’s too early to get anything in. I’d be awfully obliged if you could help me out with it.”
Fairbairn’s merriment broke out afresh as the truth revealed itself, and it was some time before he could attend to business. He then offered Riddell anything he could find in his cupboard, and the captain thereupon gratefully availed himself of the offer to secure a pot of red-currant jam, a small pot of potted meat, two or three apples, and a considerable section of a plum cake. All these he promised to replace without delay, and triumphantly hurried back with them in his pocket and under his jacket, in time to deposit them on his table before the bell began to ring for chapel. He also sent Cusack round to the school larder to order three new laid eggs and some extra butter to be delivered at once.
These grand preparations being duly made, he breathed again, and went hopefully to chapel.
As it happened, he had been very near reckoning without his host, or I should say his guests. For Parson and Telson had been some time before they could make up their minds to accept the hurried invitation of the previous evening.
“It’s a row,” Telson had said, as the captain disappeared.
“Of course it is. I’m not going,” said Parson.
“Wonder what about?”
“Oh, that Skyrocket affair, I suppose.”
“Do you think he’ll give us impots if we don’t go?”
“Don’t know — most likely.”
“Rum, his asking us to breakfast, though,” said Telson.
“All a dodge, I expect,” said Parson. “By the way, what sort of breakfasts does he go in for?”
“Not bad when he likes,” said Telson, with the authority of an old fag.
“Bacon?” asked Parson.
“Sometimes,” said Telson.
“Jam?” inquired Parson.
“Generally,” replied Telson.
There was a pause. Then Parson said, “Fancy we’d better turn up. It’s only civil, when he asked us.”
“All serene,” said Telson; “if it is a row, of course it will come off in any case. And we may as well get our breakfast somewhere.”
With which philosophical resolve the matter had been settled, and the amiable pair parted to meet next morning after chapel.
Riddell spared himself the embarrassment of waiting to escort his guests to the festive board, and hurried off in advance to see that the preparations were duly made in their honour.
He caught Cusack wistfully eyeing the unwonted array of good things on the table, and evidently speculating as to who the favoured guests were to be. It was with some difficulty that the captain got him sent off to his own breakfast in the big hall, half bribed thereto by the promise of a reversion of the coming feast.
Then, feeling quite exhausted by his morning’s excitement, he sat down and awaited his visitors.
They arrived in due time; still, to judge of their leisurely approach and their languid knock, a little suspicious of the whole affair. But the moment the door opened, and their eyes fell on the table, their manner changed to one of the most amiable briskness.
“Good-morning,” said Riddell, who, in the presence of the greater attractions on the table, ran considerable risk of being overlooked altogether.
“Good-morning,” cried the boys, suddenly roused by his voice to a sense of their social duty.
“Awfully brickish of you to ask us round,” said Telson.