“Yes, sir. But I met the others.”
“That was a resourceful boy.”
“Next young man?” said Mr. Bigwell.
“Hubert Holland, sir. Nearly eleven.”
“Colin Sturgeon, sir. Ten and a half.”
“A tall, pale, aquiline boy, and a short, snub, rosy boy.” said Mr. Spode in a dreamy tone. “The old story that is always new.”
Bacon glanced at Holland and then at the men.
“You could describe us as well as we can describe you?” said Mr. Spode.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, remember that a pleasant description is more difficult than an unpleasant one,” said Mr. Bigwell. “You want to do the difficult thing, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?” said Mr. Spode.
“Because fewer people could do it, sir.”
“May you never have a worse reason for doing things than that,” said Mr. Bigwell. “Now you may go to Miss James. And remember that she is always there, and we are always here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Miss James will make them feel at home,” said Mr. Dalziel.
“She will make them feel at school,” said Mr. Spode. “She will show them the truest kindness. That is cruelty in a condensed form.”
“I had no idea that schoolmasters were so alive to boyish troubles,” said Oliver. “I thought they became callous to suffering they constantly witnessed.”
“They may become sharpened to it,” said Mr. Bigwell. “I wish that could be said of the little ruffians themselves.”
“Well, they would hardly be tender with a man’s tenderness,” said Oliver.
The four boys outside the room paused and looked at each other. Their pursuit of Miss James seemed to have fallen from their minds.
“What relation did he say you were to him?” said Bacon to Sefton. “The darker one of the two large men.”
“Half-brother. That means that one parent is the same, and the other is not. We have the same father and different mothers.”
“Then has your father more than one wife?”
“No, of course not. The first wife has to die before a man can have a second. Oliver’s mother was the first.”
“Then your father does not keep a harem?”
“Of course not. He has only had one wife at a time. Oliver’s mother died and he married again later.”
“But she was still his wife. So is your mother his concubine?”
“No, of course not. A second wife is as much a wife as the first. Just like a second husband.”
“When he happens to be a wife,” said Holland.
“We want to get at the truth,” said Bacon, with a frown. “Perhaps his father is a Mohammedan.”
“Of course he is not,” said Sefton. “He is just like anyone else.”
“Then he is a commonplace man,” said Holland.
“That is what you will be,” said Bacon. “But Shelley can’t make things true by just saying ‘of course’. His mother is probably a concubine. He might not be told about it. I don’t suppose he would be.”
“It may be like Agamemnon bringing back Cassandra when he already had a wife,” said Sturgeon.
“It is not,” said Sefton. “The first wife died before he married my mother, before he even saw her, years and years before.”
“Is your brother treated differently from you?” said Bacon. “I mean apart from his being older. Does he have more of everything?”
“He will have the place in the end. But that is because he is the oldest.”
“You see,” said Bacon, nodding at the others. “That is how it would be. The brother is the child of the real wife, and is more important. Won’t you have any share of things at all, Shelley?”
“Has he any right to be called that?” said Holland. “Perhaps his mother called him Sefton, to give him a surname.”
“My name is Sefton Shelley, just as my brother’s is Oliver Shelley. Sefton is my mother’s surname.”
“Well, there it is,” said Bacon. “His mother’s surname is the one he has a right to.”
“I shall have a profession, and he will have the place, because it is the law.”
“Of course it would be. The child of the real wife is the only one the law recognises. You are what is called a natural son. That is why you are to have work of your own. Natural sons are often made quite important in that way. There is a lot of it in history.”
“He ought not really to be at the same school as we are,” said Sturgeon. “He ought to be at one for the sons of concubines. There are schools for the sons of almost all kinds of people.”
“I expect his mother managed it for him,” said Holland. “Concubines are often more spoilt than ordinary women.”
“Is his father a gentleman?” said Sturgeon.
“Yes,” said Bacon. “It is gentlemen who do these things. They are the only ones who can afford to do them. They cost a great deal, though they are generally not mentioned.”
“Do all men who can afford to, keep concubines?”
“No, only in China. In England only a few keep them. And they are generally kept outside the house. Sometimes the real wife does not know about them.”
“I am the son of a real wife,” said Sefton, with tears in his voice. “My father’s first wife died before he ever saw my mother.”
“Well, there is no need to cry about it,” said Bacon.
“Your father may love your mother the best. That does happen with concubines. I daresay Agamemnon loved Cassandra better than Clytaemnestra. Indeed it seems as if he did.”
“How do you know so much about concubines? Do all your fathers keep several?”
“What is all this noise?” said Miss James, opening her door. “No talking is allowed in the passage. Oh, it is the four new boys! Well, even you can read the rules. Were you looking for my room?”
“Yes,” said Bacon, as he recalled this purpose.
“‘Yes, Miss James,’” said the latter, putting things at once on a proper footing. “Why are you crying, Shelley? You are Shelley, are you not? I saw you arriving with your brother. What is wrong?”
“My mother is not a concubine.”
“Well, of course she is not. Who said she was?”
“All of them. All of them, Miss James.”
“Well, he said our fathers kept several,” said Holland.
“Several, Miss James.”
“I never heard of such talk. I was never so shocked in my life,” said Miss James, rapidly. “And new boys, and one of you related to the Head! I should complain to him, if I liked to talk about such things, if I wished to be degraded by them. And telling tales of each other on your first day! I can hardly believe it. Are you not ashamed of it yourselves?”
“Yes, Miss James.”
“Well, it is best to say no more about it. Indeed, it is not fit to speak about. Here is the key of your playbox, Bacon. And of yours, Sturgeon.” Miss James here waited for the keys to be accepted, to attach names to their owners, a capacity taken by them as part of a general unfathomable power. “You have yours, Shelley. Then Holland will lead us upstairs. You are to have a dormitory to yourselves. There is a playbox by each bed, and you must claim your own.”
Miss James kept her eyes on Holland, to register her impression of him, and the boys gave their first signs of interest in their new world.
“Now I am going to put you all on your honour,” said Miss James, her eyes now resting easily on the claimants of the boxes. “I am sure you know what that means. You are on your honour as gentlemen not to mention the word, ‘concubine’, again.”
“The word comes in the Bible,” said Bacon.
“And so do a great many words that are not fit for you to use, that are not suitable for people who do not understand how to use them,” said Miss James, with the rapidity that was frequently her resource. “And you want a great knowledge of the Bible to understand its language.”