“Tell him it’s jolly gross conduct,” cried a voice at the door, followed immediately by Telson, who, contrary to all rules, had slipped across to pay a friendly visit.
He was welcomed with the usual rejoicing, and duly installed at the festive board.
“It’s all right if I am caught,” said he. “Gilks sent me a message to Wibberly, and I just dropped in here on the way. I say, who’s going to lick, you or Welch’s?”
“Welch’s!” exclaimed the company, in general contempt. “It’s like their cheek to challenge us. We mean to give them a lesson.”
“Mind you do,” said Telson, “or it’ll be jolly rough on Parrett’s. No end of a poor show you made at the Rockshire.”
“Look here, Telson,” said Parson, gravely, “suppose we don’t talk about that. We were just wondering if Gilks had got a key to Todhunter somewhere.”
Telson laughed.
“Wonder if he hadn’t! He’s got more cribs than school books, I think.”
“I say,” said King, most persuasively, “could you collar it, do you think, old man!”
“Eh? No,” said Telson; “I draw the line at that sort of thing, you know.”
“Well, then,” said King, evidently in a state of desperate mental agitation, “could you ever find out the answer for Number 13 in Exercise 8, and let me know it in the morning? I’d be awfully obliged.”
Telson said he would see, whereat King was most profuse in his gratitude, and Telson received several other commissions of a similar nature.
These little matters of business being satisfactorily settled, the company proceeded to the discussion of more general topics.
“Fearful slow term this,” said Parson, with a yawn.
“Yes,” said Telson, spreading a piece of bread with about a quarter-of-an-inch layer of jam; “we’re somehow done out of everything this term.”
“Yes. We can’t go out on the river; we can’t go into town; we can’t go and have a lark in Welch’s; you can’t come over to see us—”
“No; that’s a howling shame!” said Telson.
“We can’t do anything, in fact,” continued Parson (now at cup Number 9). “Why, we haven’t had a spree for weeks.”
“You seemed to think my diary was a spree,” said Bosher, meekly.
There was a general laugh at this.
“By the way, have you got it here?”
“No fear! I’ll take good care you don’t see it again, you cads!”
“Eh? By the way, that reminds me we never paid Bosher out for being a Radical, you fellows,” said Parson.
“Oh, no — oh, yes, you did!” cried Bosher. “I apologise, you fellows. I’ll let you see the diary, you know, some day. Really, I’m not a Radical.”
Fortunately for Bosher, the political excitement at Willoughby had quite worn away, so that no one now felt it his duty to execute the sentence of the law upon him and, after being made to apologise on his knees to each of the company in turn, he was solemnly let off.
“You see,” said Parson, returning to the point, “we’ve been up before Parrett twice this term; that’s the mischief. We might have chanced a spree of some sort, only if we get pulled up again he may expel us.”
There was some force in this argument, and it was generally agreed it would be better for Willoughby that the risk of a calamity like this should not be incurred.
“Fact is,” said Telson, cutting another slice of bread, “Willoughby’s going to the dogs as hard as it can. The seniors in our house are down on you if you do anything. I even got pulled up the other day for having a duel with young Payne with elastics. Awful spree it was! We gave one another six yards, and six shots each. I got on to his face four times, and once on his ear, and he only hit me twice. One of mine was right in his eye, and there was a shindy made, and I got sixty lines from Fairbairn.”
“What a frightful shame!” cried the company. “Yes,” said King; “and it’s just as bad here. The new monitors pull you up for everything. You can’t even chuck boots about in the passage but they are down on you. It was bad enough when Game and that lot were monitors, but ever since they’ve been turned out and the new chaps stuck in it’s worse.”
“And they say it’s just as bad in Welch’s,” said Wakefield. “You know,” said Parson, profoundly, pouring himself out a fresh cup—“you know, if Riddell and Bloomfield ever took it into their heads to pull together, we’d have an awful time of it.”
The bare possibility of such a calamity was enough to sober even the wildest spirit present.
“These seniors are a nuisance,” said Telson, after a pause; “and the worst of it is, we can’t well pay them out.”
“Not in school, or in the Big either,” said King. “We might stick nettles in their beds, you know,” suggested Bosher, “or something of that sort.”
“Rather low, that,” said Parson, “and not much fun.”
“Would leeches be better?” said Bosher, who had lately been giving himself to scientific investigation.
It was considered leeches might not be bad, but there was rather too much uncertainty about their mode of action. That was a sort of thing more in Cusack’s and the Welchers’ line than the present company’s.
“I tell you what,” said Telson, struck with an idea, “we might get at them in Parliament; they’re always so jolly fond of talking about fair play there, and every one being equal. Do you know, I think we might have a little fling there!”
“Not at all a bad idea,” said Parson, admiringly—“jolly fine idea! We can do what those cads do in the newspapers — obstruct the business! Rattling idea!”
“Yes; and fancy Messrs Telson, Parson, Bosher, and Co. being suspended,” said King.
“They couldn’t do it, I tell you,” said Bosher; “we’d kick up a shine about freedom of speech, and all that. Anyhow, it would be rather a spree, whether we were kicked out or not. We’d be a ‘party’ you know!”
The idea took, and an animated consultation took place. Parson, for a junior, was very well up in the “rules of the House,” and at his suggestion the notice-paper for to-morrow’s assembly was got hold of and filled with “amendments.”
“Call them amendments,” said he, “and they can’t say anything.”
“Oh, all serene,” said Telson, who had implicit confidence in his friend.
“For instance, here you are,” said Parson. “‘Mr Coates to move that Classics is a nobler study than Mathematics.’ Amendment proposed: ‘Instead of “nobler” say “viler.”’ Proposed by Bosher, further amendment: ‘Instead of “nobler” say “beastlier.”’ Proposed by Telson — (‘Hear, hear,’ from Telson) — further amendment: ‘Instead of “nobler” say “more idiotic.”’ You see it can easily be worked, and when we’ve done with ‘nobler’ we can start on the ‘is’ and amend it to ‘are,’ do you twig? There’ll have to be a division over each. I say it’ll be an awful lark!”
Little dreaming of the delightful treat in store for it, Willoughby assembled next afternoon, expecting nothing better than a dull debate on the well-worn question of classics versus mathematics. They were destined to experience more than one surprise before the meeting was over.
Riddell, who had spent a dismal day, not knowing what to do or think, and vainly hoping that Wyndham might by his own free confession solve the bitter problem, came to the meeting. It was the least wretched thing he could do. Anything was better than sitting alone and brooding over his secret.
For the first time he received a cheer as he entered and took his accustomed place. Willoughby was grateful to him for that catch in the Rockshire match. How, at any other time, the captain would have rejoiced over that cheer! But now he hardly heard it.
All the other heroes of the match received a similar ovation in proportion to the service they had done, and when, just at the last moment, Fairbairn, Coates, and Crossfield came in together, the “House” rose at them and cheered tremendously.