CHAPTER ONE.
THE NOTICE BOARD.
The four o'clock bell was sounding up the staircase and down thepassages of Saint Dominic's school. It was a minute behind its time,and had old Roach, the school janitor, guessed at half the abuseprivately aimed at his devoted head for this piece of negligence, hemight have pulled the rope with a good deal more vivacity than he atpresent displayed.
At the signal there was a general shuffling of feet and uproar ofvoices--twelve doors swung open almost simultaneously, and next momentfive hundred boys poured out, flooding the staircases and passages,shouting, scuffling, and laughing, and throwing off by one easy effortthe restraint and gravity of the last six hours.
The usual rush and scramble ensued. Some boys, taking off their coatsand tucking up their sleeves as they ran, made headlong for theplayground. Some, with books under their arms, scuttled off to theirstudies. The heroes of the Sixth stalked majestically to theirquarters. The day boarders hurried away to catch the train at Maltby.A few slunk sulkily to answer to their names in the detention-room, andothers, with the air of men to whom time is no object and exertion notemptation, lounged about in the corridors with hands in pockets,regarding listlessly the general stampede of their fellows, andapparently not knowing exactly what to do with themselves.
Among these last happened to be Bullinger of the Fifth and hisparticular friend Ricketts, who, neither of them having any moretempting occupation, were comfortably leaning up against the door of theFourth junior class-room, thereby making prisoners of some twenty orthirty youngsters, whose infuriated yells and howls from within appearedto afford the two gentlemen a certain languid satisfaction.
"Open the door! do you hear?" shrieked one little treble voice.
"All right!" piped another. "I know who you are, you cads. See if Idon't tell Dr Senior!"
"Oh, please, I say, I shall lose my train!" whimpered a third.
"Wait till I get out; see if I don't kick your shins!" howled a fourth.
It was no use. In vain these bantams stormed and raved, and entreatedand blubbered. The handle would not turn, and the door would not yield.Mr Bullinger and his friend vouchsafed no reply, either to theirthreats or their supplications, and how long the blockade might havelasted it is impossible to say, had not a fresh dissension called thebeleaguerers away. A cluster of boys at a corner of the big corridornear the main entrance attracted their curiosity, and suggested apossibility of even more entertainment than the goading into fury of aparcel of little boys, so, taking advantage of a moment when thebesieged had combined, shoulder to shoulder, to make one magnificent anddesperate onslaught on to the obdurate door, they quietly "raised thesiege," and quitting their hold, left the phalanx of small heroes totopple head over heels and one over another on to the stone floor of thepassage, while they sauntered off arm-in-arm to the scene of the newexcitement.
The object which had attracted the knot of boys whom they now joined wasthe School Notice Board, on which, from time to time, were postednotices of general and particular interest to the school. On thisparticular afternoon (the first Friday of the Summer term) it was, asusual, crowded with announcements, each interesting in its way.
The first was in the handwriting of Dr Senior's secretary, and ran asfollows:--
"A Nightingale Scholarship, value 50 pounds a year for three years, willfall vacant at Michaelmas. Boys under seventeen are eligible.Particulars and subject of examination can be had any evening next weekin the secretary's room."
"Fifty-pounds a year _for_ three years!" exclaimed a small boy, with ahalf whistle. "I wouldn't mind getting that!"
"Well, why don't you, you avaricious young Jew? You're under seventeen,I suppose?" retorted the amiable Mr Bullinger, thereby raising a laughat the expense of this little boy of eleven, who retired from the sceneextinguished.
The next notice was in the classical handwriting of the secretary of theSixth Form Literary Society, and ran as follows:--
"This Society will meet on Tuesday. Subject for debate, `That thepresent age is degenerate,' moved by A.E. Callander, opposed by T.Winter. Boys from the Senior Fifth are invited as auditors."
This notice, even with the patronising postscript, would have passedwithout comment, as Sixth Form notices usually did, had not someaudacious hand ventured to alter a word and make the subject of debate,instead of "That the present age is degenerate," read "That the presentSixth is degenerate." Who the perpetrator of this outrage might be wasa mystery, but the alteration was quite enough to render the notice veryamusing to many of the readers, especially the Fifth Form boys, and veryterrible to others, especially the small boys, who looked nervous andguilty, and did not dare by the slightest sign to join in the mirth oftheir irreverent seniors. Most of the assembly agreed that "there wouldbe a row about it," with which assurance they passed on to the nextnotice.
"Wanted, a Smart Fag. No Tadpoles or Guinea-pigs need apply. HoraceWraysford, Fifth Form."
"Bravo, Horatius!" said Ricketts. "A lucky young cub it will be that hetakes on," added he, turning to a group of the small boys near. "He'lldo your sums and look over your exercises for you like one o'clock.Ugh! though, I suppose every man Jack of you is a Tadpole or a Pig?"
Tadpoles and Guinea-pigs, I should say, were the names given to twocombinations or clubs in the clannish Junior School, the mysteries ofwhich were known only to their members, but which were not regarded withfavour by the older boys.
As no one answered this charge, Ricketts indulged in a few generalthreats, and a few not very complimentary comments on the clubs inquestion, and then returned to the notice board, which contained twomore announcements.
"Cricket Notices. To-morrow will be a final big practice, when theelevens for the `A to M _versus_ N to Z' match on the 25th will bechosen. `Sixth _versus_ School' will be played on the 1st proxo. TheSchool Eleven will be selected from among players in the two abovematches."
"A private meeting of the Fifth will be held this afternoon at 4.30 todiscuss an important matter."
"Hullo!" said Bullinger, looking up at the clock, "it's half-past now!Come along, Rick."
And the two demagogues disappeared arm-in-arm down the passage, followedby the admiring glances of the juniors, who spent the next half-hour inwondering what could be the important matter under consideration at theprivate meeting of the Fifth. The universal conclusion was that it hadreference to the suppression of the Tadpoles and Guinea-pigs--aproceeding the very suggestion of which made those small animals tremblewith mingled rage and fear, and sent them off wriggling to their ownquarters, there to deliberate on the means of defence necessary toprotect themselves from the common enemy.
The meeting in the Fifth, however, was to consider a far more importantsubject than the rebellious clubs of the Junior School.
The reader will doubtless have inferred, from what has already beensaid, that the young gentlemen of the Fifth Form at Saint Dominic'sentertained, among other emotions, a sentiment something like jealousyof their seniors and superiors in the sixth. Perhaps Saint Dominic's isnot the only school in which such a feeling has existed; but, at anyrate during the particular period to which I am referring, it was prettystrong there. Not that the two Forms were at war, or that there was anyfear of actual hostilities. It was not so bad as all that. But theFifth were too near the heroes of the top Form to consent to submit totheir authority. They would be Sixth men themselves soon, and then ofcourse they would expect the whole school to reverence them. But tillthat time they resented the idea of bowing before these future comrades;and not only that, they took every opportunity of asserting theirauthority among the juniors, and claiming the allegiance for themselvesthey refused to render to others. And they succeeded in this very well,for they took pains to make themselves popular in the school, and toappear as the champions quite as much as the bullies of the small fry.The consequence was that while Tadpoles and Guinea-pigs quaked andblushed in the presence of the majestic Sixth, they quaked and smirkedi
n the presence of the Fifth, and took their thrashings meekly, in thehope of getting a Latin exercise looked over or a minor tyrant punishedlater on.
Just at the present time, too, the Fifth was made up of a set of fellowswell able to maintain the peculiar traditions of their fellowship. Theynumbered one or two of the cleverest boys (for their age) in SaintDominic's; and, more important still in the estimation of many, theynumbered not a few of the best cricketers, boxers, football-players, andrunners in the school. With these advantages their popularity as a bodywas very great--and it is only due to them to say that they bore theirhonours magnanimously, and distributed their kicks and favours with thestrictest impartiality.
Such was the company which assembled on this afternoon in their ownclass-room, with closed doors, to deliberate on "private and importantbusiness." About twenty boys were present, and the reader must let meintroduce a few of them, before his curiosity as to the occasion oftheir assembling themselves together can be satisfied.
That handsome, jovial-looking boy of sixteen who is sitting thereastride of a chair, in the middle of the floor, biting the end of aquill pen, is the redoubtable Horace Wraysford, the gentleman, it willbe remembered, who is in want of a fag. Wraysford is one of the best"all-round men" in the Fifth, or indeed in the school. He is certain tobe in the School Eleven against the County, certain to win the mile raceand the "hurdles" at the Athletic Sports, and is not at all unlikely tocarry off the Nightingale Scholarship next autumn, even though one ofthe Sixth is in for it too. Indeed, it is said he would be quitecertain of this honour, were it not that his friend and rival OliverGreenfield, who is standing there against the wall, with his headresting on a map of Greece, is also in for it. Greenfield does notstrike one as nearly so brilliant a fellow as his friend. He is quieterand more lazy, and more solemn. Some say he has a temper, and othersthat he is selfish; and generally he is not the most popular boy inSaint Dominic's. Wraysford, however, sticks to him through thick andthin, and declares that, so far from being ill-tempered and selfish, heis one of the best fellows in the school, and one of the cleverest. AndMr Wraysford is prepared to maintain his allegation at the point ofthe--knuckle! That hulking, ugly youth is Braddy, the bully, the terrorof the Guinea-pigs, and the laughing-stock of his own class-mates. Theboy who is fastening a chalk duster on to the collar of Braddy's coat isTom Senior, the Doctor's eldest son, who, one would have imagined, mighthave learned better manners. Last, not least (for we need notre-introduce Messrs. Ricketts or Bullinger, or go out of our way topresent Simon, the donkey of the Form, to the reader), is Master AnthonyPembury, the boy now mounting up onto a chair with the aid of twofriends. Anthony is lame, and one of the most dreaded boys in SaintDominic's. His father is editor of the _Great Britain_, and the sonseems to have inherited his talent for saying sharp things. Woe betidethe Dominican who raises Tony's dander! He cannot box, he cannotpursue; but he can _talk_, and he can ridicule, as his victims all theschool over know.
He it is who has, of his own sweet will, summoned together the presentmeeting, and the business he is now about to explain.
"The fact is, you fellows," he begins, "I wanted to ask your opinionabout a little idea of my own. You know the _Sixth Form Magazine_?"
"Rather," says Ricketts; "awful rubbish too! Papers a mile long in itabout Greek roots; and poetry about the death of Seneca, and all thatsort of thing."
"That's just it," continued Pembury; "it's rubbish, and unreadable; andthough they condescend to let us see it, I don't suppose two fellows inthe Form ever wade through it."
"I know _I don't_, for one," says Wraysford, laughing; "I _did_ make astart at that ode on the birth of Senior junior in the last, which beganwith--
"`Hark, 'tis the wail of an infant that wakes the still echoes of lofty Olympus,'
"but I got no farther."
"Yes," says Tom Senior, "Wren wrote that. I felt it my duty tochallenge him for insulting the family, you know. But he said it wasmeant as a compliment, and that the Doctor was greatly pleased with it."
"Well," resumed Pembury, laughing, "they won't allow any of us tocontribute. I suggested it to the editor, and he said (you know hisstuck-up way), `They saw no reason for opening their columns to any butSixth Form fellows.' So what I propose is, that we get up a paper ofour own!"
"Upon my word, it's a splendid idea!" exclaimed Wraysford, jumping up inraptures. And every one else applauded Pembury's proposition.
"We've as good a right, you know," he continued, "as they have, andought to be able to turn out quite as respectable a paper."
"Rather," says Ricketts, "if you'll only get the fellows to write."
"Oh, I'll manage that," said Anthony.
"Of course you'll have to be editor, Tony," says Bullinger.
"If you like," says the bashful Tony, who had no notion of _not_ beingeditor.
"Well, I call that a splendid idea," says Braddy. "Won't they be in afury? (Look here, Senior, I wish you wouldn't stick your pins into myneck, do you hear?)"
"What shall we call it?" some one asks.
"Ah, yes," says Pembury, "we ought to give it a good name."
"Call it the _Senior Wrangler_," suggested Ricketts.
"Sounds too like a family concern," cried Tom Senior.
"Suppose we call it the _Fifth Form War Whoop_," proposed Wraysford,amid much laughter.
"Or the _Anti-Sixth_," says Braddy, who always professes an implacableenmity towards the Sixth when none of them are near to hear him.
"Not at all," says Greenfield, speaking now for the first time. "What'sthe use of making fools of ourselves? Call it the _Dominican_, and letit be a paper for the whole school."
"Greenfield is right," adds Pembury. "If we can make it a regularschool paper it will be a far better slap at the Sixth than if we didnothing but pitch into them. Look here, you fellows, leave it to me toget out the first number. We'll astonish the lives out of them--yousee!"
Every one is far too confident of Tony's capacity to raise an objectionto this proposal; and after a good deal more talk, in which the idea ofthe _Dominican_ excites quite an enthusiasm among these amiable younggentlemen, the meeting breaks up.
That evening, as the fellows passed down the corridor to prayers, a newnotice appeared on the board:
"The first number of the _Dominican_ will appear on the 24th inst."
"What does it mean?" asked Raleigh of the Sixth, the school captain, ofhis companion, as they stopped to examine this mysterious announcement;"there's no name to it."
"I suppose it's another prank of the Fifth. By the way, do you see howone of them has altered this debating society notice?"
"Upon my word," said Raleigh reading it, and smiling in spite ofhimself, "they are getting far too impudent. I must send a monitor tocomplain of this."
And so the two grandees walked on.
Later in the evening Greenfield and Wraysford sat together in the studyof the former.
"Well, I see the Nightingale is vacant at last. Of course you are goingin, old man?" said Wraysford.
"Yes, I suppose so; and you?" asked the other.
"Oh, yes. I'll have a shot, and do my best."
"I don't mean to let you have it, though," said Greenfield, "for themoney would be valuable to me if I ever go up to Oxford."
"Just the reason I want to get it," said Wraysford, laughing. "By theway, when is your young brother coming?"
"This week, I expect."
"I wonder if he'll fag for me?" asked Wraysford, mindful of hisdestitute condition.
Greenfield laughed. "You'd better ask the captain about that. I can'tanswer for him. But I must be off now. Good-night."
And an hour after that Saint Dominic's was as still and silent as,during the day, it had been bustling and noisy.
The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's: A School Story Page 2
