The business was preceded by the usual questions, none of which, however, were very important. After the captain’s performance last week, and perhaps still more after his speech in the House a week or two ago, honourable men had shown themselves less active in “baiting” him and asking him offensive questions, and on this occasion he was only interrogated once, and that was by Cusack, who wanted to know whether they were not going to get a whole holiday in honour of the Rockshire match? The captain replied that he had heard nothing about it.
Bosher was put up to ask Bloomfield whether he considered Eutropius fit reading for young boys? Loud cheers from all the small boys in question greeted the inquiry, in the midst of which Bloomfield cunningly replied that the honourable member had better give notice of the question for next time.
Then rose Telson, with all the dignity of office, and solemnly inquired of Mr Stutter, the Premier, whether he was aware that a new party had lately been formed in the House, consisting of Messrs Telson, Parson, Bosher, King, and Wakefield, called the “Skyrockets,” whose object was to look after the interests of the juniors all over the school, and who would be glad to receive fresh members at one shilling a head?
Stutter, who was scarcely heard in the uproar which followed this sensational announcement, meekly replied that he had not heard a word about it, an answer which, for some reason or other, provoked almost as much laughter as the question.
“All very well for them to grin,” growled Telson, who had expected a somewhat different reception to his important question: “wait till we start on the amendments.”
The opportunity soon arrived. Coates being called upon to open the debate, let off the speech he had prepared, and if he did not convince the House that classics was a nobler study than mathematics, he at least showed that he had convinced himself.
The “Skyrockets” had barely the patience to hear him out, and the moment he had done, Parson started to his feet, and shouted, “Mr Chairman and gentlemen, I beg to move an amendment—”
Here Bloomfield, whom the sight of the notice-paper had prepared for what was coming, interposed, “When I am ready for the honourable member I will call on him. The motion is not yet seconded.”
“No, no! That won’t wash, will it, you fellows?” cried Parson, excitedly, planting himself firmly in his place, and evidently seeing through the deep designs of the enemy. “Bother seconding! I mean to move my amendment, if I stick here all night! (Terrific Skyrocket cheers.) We kids have been snubbed long enough, and we’re going to make a stand!” (“Question,” “Order.”) “All very well for you to sing out ‘Order’—”
The Chairman:
“Will the honourable member—”
“No, he won’t!” screamed Parson, with the steam well up; “and he’s not going to! I’ve got a right to be heard — we’ve all got a right to be heard, and we’re going to be heard, what’s more! (Tremendous cheers from the club.) We’re all equal here, aren’t we, you chaps?” (“Rather!”)
Here Fairbairn rose to order, but Parson was too quick for him.
“No, no!” he cried, “we don’t want any of your jaw! We’re not going to be shut up by you! We’re a party, I tell you, and we’re bound to stick out!” (“Hear, hear,” from Bosher.) “We expected you’d be trying to sit on us, but we made up our minds we won’t be sat on! (Prolonged cheers.) I’ve not begun my speech yet — (laughter) — and I don’t mean to till you hold your rows!”
Here there were loud cries of “Order” from various parts of the House, which, however, only served to inspirit the speaker, who proceeded at the top of his voice, “It’s no use your going on like that. (I say, you chaps,” added he, turning round to his companions, “back me up, I’m getting husky.) You think we’re a lot of fools—”
(“We’re a lot of fools!” chimed in the chorus, by way of backing up their orator.)
“But we’re not as green as we look!”
(“Green as we look!”)
“You all seem to think it funny!”
(“Think it funny!”)
“But you needn’t think you’ll shut us up!”
(“Shut us up!”)
Here another attempt was made on the part of the chairman to reduce the meeting to order. Above the laughter and cheering and hooting he cried at the top of his voice, “Unless you stop your foolery, Parson, I’ll have you turned out!”
“Will you? Who’s going to stop my foolery?” yelled Parson.
(“Stop my foolery?”) howled the chorus.
“Try it on, that’s all! You don’t think we funk you!”
(“We funk you!”)
“Do you suppose we don’t know what we’re doing?”
(“We don’t know what we’re doing?”)
“Look out, you fellows! Hold on!”
This last remark was caused by a rush upon the devoted band, with a view to carry out the edict of the chairman.
Parson went on with his oration till he was secured, hand and foot, and carried forcibly to the door, and even then continued to address the house, struggling and kicking between every syllable. His backers, equally determined, clung on to the forms and desks, and continued to shout and scream and caterwaul till they were one by one ejected.
Even then they maintained their noble stand for freedom of speech by howling through the key-hole and kicking at the door, till finally a select band of volunteers was dispatched “to clear the approaches to the House” and drive the Skyrockets to their own distant studies, where they organised a few brawls on their own account, and ended the afternoon very hoarse, very tired, but by no means cast down.
“Jolly spree, wasn’t it?” said Parson, when it was all over, fanning himself with a copybook and readjusting his collar.
“Stunning!” said Telson; “never thought they’d stand it so long. No end of a speech, that of yours!”
“Yes,” said Parson, complacently; “most of it impromptu, too! Managed to spin it out, I fancy!”
“Rather,” said King, admiringly. “I began to make mine after you’d got kicked out, but couldn’t get out much of it.”
“Well, all I can say is it was a jolly lark. I feel quite hungry after it,” said Telson. “Any of that jam left, old man?”
And so these heroes appropriately celebrated their glorious field-day with a no less glorious banquet, which amply compensated for all the little inconveniences they had had to endure in the course of the afternoon’s entertainment.
Meanwhile, rather more serious work was going on in the Great Hall.
The Skyrockets being ejected, the house proceeded in a somewhat humdrum fashion to discuss the relative merits of classics and mathematics. Several of the seniors and a few Limpets had prepared speeches, which they duly delivered. Contrary to the expectation of most present, Riddell took no part in the discussion. As head classic, a speech from him had been quite counted on; but not even the calls of the one side or the taunts of the other could get him on to his feet.
The fact was, he only half heard what was going on. His thoughts were far away, busied with a far more serious inward debate than that on the notice-paper.
At length he could remain idle no longer. He must go and find out Wyndham, or see the doctor, or pay another visit to Tom the boat-boy — anything rather than this suspense and misery and inaction.
He took advantage of a more than ordinarily dreary speech from Tedbury to rise and make his retreat quietly from the room.
But before he had reached the door Tedbury’s voice abruptly ceased and Wibberly’s was heard saying, “Mr Chairman, I see Mr Riddell is leaving the meeting. Will you allow me to ask him a question before he goes?”
There was something strange about this interruption, and also in the manner in which the question was asked, which drew the sudden attention of the House, and all eyes were turned on the captain.
He stopped and turned in his usual nervous, half-inquiring way, apparently not quite sure what had been said or who had spoken.