“In where?” replied the aggravating Brown, shouldering his way in at the gate and intoxicated with his own importance. “What are you talking about?”
“Why, who’s been elected for Shellport? Is Pony in?” shouted the boys, impatiently.
“Pony!” rejoined Brown, half-contemptuously, “do you suppose they’d have an old stick like him!”
“What,” exclaimed Merrison. “Is Cheeseman in after all, then?”
“Eh?”
“Is Cheeseman in, can’t you hear?”
“I never said he was,” replied Brown, majestically.
This was rather too much, and a simultaneous rush was made for the pompous town boy, and the secret forcibly extracted in double quick time.
“Now,” cried one of the Limpets, giving his arm a premonitory screw, “out with it, or I’m sorry for you.”
“Here, let go my arm, you cad, I say; oh! you hurt! let go, I — oh! oh! Cheeseman’s in!”
The arm was flung away in disgust as a simultaneous groan greeted the announcement.
“How much by?” demanded the inquisitors, once more preparing to apply the screw.
But Brown had had quite enough of it, and answered glibly, “Eight hundred and twenty-five majority!”
This was a terrible blow, and in the general dismay which followed, Brown was temporarily overlooked.
“Eight hundred and twenty-five!” exclaimed Merrison. “Why, it’s an awful licking. Every one was sure Pony would be five hundred ahead.”
“It’s foul play and bribery, depend on it,” said another.
“Or they’ve counted wrong.”
“Or Brown is telling lies!”
Now, if Brown had been a wise boy he would have taken advantage of the excitement which immediately followed his announcement to retreat quietly and rapidly up to the school, and he reproached himself greatly that he had not. For the ill-temper of the assembly was only too ready to fix on some object upon which to vent itself, and this last suggestion, coupled with the suspicion that Brown’s father had been one of the backers of the Radical candidate, brought the town boy once more into most uncomfortable notoriety.
He was hunted almost for his life round the playground and up to the school. It was no use for him to protest that he was out-and-out yellow, that his father had been on Pony’s committee. He was far too valuable a scapegoat to be let off; and when at last he managed to bolt headlong into the school and seek shelter in the master’s cloak-room, it is safe to say that though he himself felt rather the worse for the adventure, Willoughby on the whole felt rather better.
In due time the news was confirmed, and the school settled rather viciously down to its ordinary work. It was almost a relief when first school was over, and all those who had impositions to write were ordered to keep their places and begin their tasks.
What venom of wrath and disappointment could they not put into those unlucky lines! If the paper had only been the skin of the Radical Cheeseman, and the pens needles, how they would have delighted in their penalty!
Scarcely had they begun work, however, when the school messenger came round unexpectedly to summon the whole school to assemble in the Great Hall. What could it be? Was it another lecture? or had the doctor repented of letting them off so easy? Or was there to be another change in the captaincy? or what?
The hall soon filled, and every one waited impatiently for the doctor. He arrived presently, with a letter in his hand and a somewhat important look on his face.
“The last time I spoke in this room,” said he, “I had to discharge the painful duty of punishing the whole school for a serious and inexcusable act of insubordination.”
“Why do they always call it a painful duty?” inquired the artless Telson of his ally; “I’m sure it doesn’t hurt them.”
“Silence! whoever is speaking!” said the doctor, sternly. “I hope what was said then will not be forgotten. An act of that kind could not possibly be allowed to pass without punishment, and any repetition of it would entail the severest measures. However, I say no more of that at present. I have called you together to read to you a letter I have just received from the newly-elected Member for Shellport, Mr Cheeseman.”
As the doctor pronounced this unpopular name, one hardy junior, quite mistaking the gravity of the occasion, began a low hiss.
Before the infection could spread the doctor suddenly laid down the letter, and with a voice of thunder demanded, “Who is that? Stand up, sir, in your place!”
The luckless form of the youthful Lawkins, pale and scared, rose from a back bench.
“Leave the room, sir!” said the doctor, wrathfully, “and write out your imposition double, and come to me after third school!”
Poor Lawkins retired, and the assembly, being warned by his awful example, heard the doctor out without further interruption.
“Mr Cheeseman writes as follows —
“‘Dear Dr Patrick, — I hope I need no apology for writing to you on a matter affecting the boys under your charge. A large number of these young politicians, as you are aware, took a somewhat active part in the recent election, in which it was not my good fortune to be their favourite candidate. I understand that their crusade into the town was not only without your permission, but in direct opposition to your wishes; and I conclude, that being so, the offenders have merited the punishment due for such escapades. The election, as you know, is now decided, and I am anxious that one of my first acts in my new capacity should be one of intercession with you to take as lenient a view as you can of this schoolboy freak; and if you should find it consistent with your duty to remit any penalty that may have been inflicted, I shall be as grateful to you as no doubt your boys will be.’
“‘I am, dear doctor,’
“‘Yours faithfully,’
“‘A. Cheeseman.’”
The doctor laid down the letter amidst ominous silence, which even the feeble cheers of Bosher, Brown, and a few others barely disturbed.
“In consideration of this generous letter,” he continued, “I have decided to remit the impositions I gave on Saturday, and also to withdraw the prohibition about the half-holiday. The matter of the monitors I cannot reconsider. I may suggest that, after what has happened, it would be a graceful act on the part of the boys to send Mr Cheeseman a letter of thanks, at any rate, if not of apology. You are now dismissed.”
It was quite evident that the majority of the boys were at a loss how to take this strange and unexpected announcement. True, they hated the Radicals, but they also hated impositions and detention, and the probability is that, if left to themselves, they would quietly have availed themselves of Mr Cheeseman’s clemency.
But to the small band of hot-headed enthusiasts the very notion of being under an obligation to the Radical was repulsive. They could scarcely wait till the doctor had departed before they vehemently denounced the idea.
“Well,” said Merrison, “if that’s not what you call adding insult to injury, I don’t know what you do! I know I mean to write every letter of my impot if it was a thousand lines instead of a hundred!”
“So shall I; and I’ll not stir out of doors all Wednesday afternoon either,” said another.
“Of course not; no honourable fellow would.”
“I suppose he thinks he’s going to bribe us, the cad. Perhaps he hopes we’ll give him a leg-up next election?”
“I vote we put on a spurt with the impots and get them all done together,” said another. “Paddy shall see which way we go, at any rate.”
And so, sorely to the disappointment of some of the juniors, who had been rejoicing prematurely in the removal of their penalties, the order went round in all the houses that every boy was expected in honour to finish his imposition by next day, and also to remain in on Wednesday afternoon, as a protest against “Radical cheek,” and this was an appeal no loyal Whig could resist.