On their way back to the Big they met Parson and Telson, trotting down to the bathing sheds.
The faces of these two young gentlemen looked considerably perplexed as they saw the captain and his supposed victim walking arm-in-arm. However, with the delightful simplicity of youth they thought it must be all right somehow, and having important news of some sort to relate, they made no scruple about intruding on the interview.
“Oh, I say, Riddell,” began Telson, “we’ve just come from the Parliament. No end of a row. Last time was nothing to it!”
“What happened?” asked the captain.
“Why, you know,” said Parson, “it was Game and Ashley’s affair summoning this meeting. They sent round a private note or something telling the fellows there would be a special meeting, signed by Game, First Lord of the Admiralty, and Ashley, Home Secretary. A lot of the fellows were taken in by it and turned up, and of course they had taken good care not to summon anybody that was sweet on you. So it was a packed meeting. At least they thought so. But Telson and I showed up, and the whole lot of the Skyrockets, and gave them a lively time of it.”
“You see,” said Telson, eagerly taking up the narrative, “they didn’t guess we’d cut up rough, because we’ve been in rows of that sort once or twice before.”
Wyndham broke out laughing at this point.
“Have you, really?” he exclaimed.
“Well,” continued Telson, too full of his story to heed the interruption, “they stuck Game in the chair, and he made a frightfully rambling speech about you and that boat-race business. He said you knew who the chap was, and were sheltering him and all that, and that you were as bad every bit as if you’d done it yourself, and didn’t care a hang about the honour of the school, and a whole lot of bosh of that sort. We sung out ‘Oh, oh,’ and ‘Question,’ once or twice, but, you know, we were saving ourselves up. So Ashley got up and said he was awfully astonished to hear about it — howling cram, of course, for he knew about it as much as any one did — and he considered it a disgrace to the school, and the only thing to do was to kick you out, and he proposed it.”
“Then the shindy began,” said Parson. “We sent young Lawkins off to tell Crossfield what was going on, and directly Ashley sat down old Telson got up and moved an amendment. They tried to cry him down, but they couldn’t do it, could they?”
“Rather not,” said Telson, proudly. “I stuck there like a leech, and the fellows all yelled too, so that nobody could hear any one speak. We kept on singing out ‘Hole in the corner! Hole in the corner!’ for about twenty minutes, and there weren’t enough of them to turn us out. Then they tried to get round us by being civil, but we were up to that dodge. Parson went on after me, and then old Bosher, and then King, and then Wakefield, and when he’d done I started again.”
“You should have seen how jolly wild they got!” cried Parson. “A lot of the fellows laughed, and joined us too. Old Game and Ashley were regularly mad! They came round and bawled in our ears that they gave us a thousand lines each, and we’d be detained all the rest of the term. But we didn’t hear it; and when they tried to get at us we hit out with rulers, and they couldn’t do it. You never saw such a lark!”
“And presently Crossfield turned up,” said Telson. “My eye! you should have seen how yellow and green they looked when he dropped in and walked up to his usual place! We shut up for a bit as soon as he came — and, you know, I fancy they’d have sooner we kept it up. They were bound to say something when the row stopped. So Game tried to rush the thing through, and get the fellows to vote before Crossfield knew what was up. But he wasn’t to be done that way.”
“‘I didn’t quite hear what the motion was?’ says he, as solemn as a judge.
“‘Oh! it’s about the honour of the school. Riddell—’
“‘Excuse me, Mr Deputy-Chairman and ex-monitor,’ says Crossfield, and there was a regular laugh at that hit, because, of course, Game had no more right in the chair, now he’s not a monitor, than I had. ‘If it’s anything to do with the honour of the school, of course it couldn’t be in better hands than yours, who have summoned the meeting on the sly, and taken such care to select a nice little party!’
“They tried to stop him at that.
“‘You can’t stop the business now. We were just going to take the vote when you came in,’ said Game.
“‘Exactly!’ says Crossfield, propping himself up comfortably against the back of the form as if he was going to stay all night; ‘that’s just why I came, and that’s just why Bloomfield, and Porter, and Coates, and Fairbairn, and a few other gentlemen who have a sort of mild interest in the honour of the school — although it’s nothing, of course, to yours — are coming on too. They’ll be here before I’ve done my speech. By the way, one of you kids,’ said he, with a wink our way, ‘might go and fetch Riddell; he’d like to be here too.’
“We shoved young Wakefield out of the door to make believe to go and fetch you. But they’d had quite enough of it, and shut up the meeting all of a sudden.
“‘I adjourn the meeting!’ cried Game, as red as a turkey-cock.
“‘All right! that will suit me just as well,’ says Crossfield, grinning. ‘Is it to any particular day, or shall we get notice as before?’
“Of course they didn’t stop to answer, and so we gave no end of a cheer for old Crossfield, and then came on here.”
And having delivered themselves of this full, true, and particular account of the afternoon’s adventures, these two small heroes continued their trot down to the river to refresh their honest limbs after the day’s labours.
Their version of the proceedings was very little exaggerated, and, as Crossfield and several others who were present each entertained his own particular circle of friends with the same story, the whole affair became a joke against the luckless Game and Ashley.
Even their own house did not spare them, and as for Bloomfield, he evinced his displeasure in a way which surprised the two heroes.
“What’s all this foolery you’ve been up to, you two?” said he, coming into the preparation-room after tea, where most of the senior Parretts were assembled.
It was not flattering certainly to the two in question to have their noble protest for the honour of the school thus designated, and Game answered, rather sheepishly, “We’ve been up to no foolery!”
“You may not call it foolery,” said Bloomfield, who was in anything but a good temper, “but I do! Making the whole house ridiculous! Goodness knows there’s been quite enough done in that way without wanting your help to do more!”
“What’s the use of going on like that?” said Ashley. “You don’t suppose we did it to amuse ourselves, do you?”
“If you didn’t amuse yourselves you amused every one else,” growled Bloomfield. “Everybody’s laughing at us.”
“We felt something ought to be done about Riddell—” began Game.
“Felt! You’d no business to feel, if that’s the best you can show for it,” said Bloomfield. “You’ll never set things right!”
“Look here,” said Game, quickly, losing his temper; “you know well enough it was meant for the best, and you needn’t come and kick up a row like this before everybody! If you don’t care to have Riddell shown up, it is no reason why we shouldn’t!”
“A precious lot you’ve shown him up! If you’d wanted to get every one on his side, you couldn’t have done better. You don’t suppose any one would be frightened out of his skin by anything a couple of asses who’d been kicked out of the monitorship had to say?”
Bloomfield certainly had the habit of expressing himself warmly at times, and on the present occasion he may have done so rather more warmly than the case deserved. But he was put out and angry at the ridiculous performance of the Parrett’s boys, in which he felt the entire house was more or less compromised.