CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
THE NIGHTINGALE EXAMINATION.
The next morning early, before breakfast, Oliver joined the Doctor inhis study, and made a clean breast to him there and then of Stephen'sdelinquencies. He had evidently taken the right step in doing so, for,hearing it all thus frankly confessed by the elder brother, Dr Seniorwas disposed to take a much more lenient view of the case than he wouldhad the information come to him through any other channel.
But at its best the offence was a grave one, and Oliver more than oncefelt anxious at the sight of the head master's long face during thenarrative. However, when it was all over his fears were at oncedispelled by the doctor saying, "Well, Greenfield, you've done a veryproper thing in telling me all this; it is a straightforward as well asa brotherly act. Your brother seems to have been very foolish, but Ihave no doubt he has got a lesson. You had better send him to me aftermorning service."
And so, much relieved, Oliver went off and reported to the gratefulStephen the success of his mission, and the two boys went off to theschool chapel together a good deal more happy than they had been theprevious day.
"I say," said Stephen, as they went along, "I suppose you didn't sayanything about Loman, did you?"
"Of course not! he's no concern of mine," said Oliver, rather tartly."But look here, young 'un, I'm not going to let you fag any more forhim, or have anything to do with him."
"All right!" said Stephen, who had no desire to continue hisacquaintance with his late "proprietor."
"But the captain will row me, won't he?"
"If he does I'll make that square. You can fag for Wraysford if youlike, though, he wants a fellow."
"Oh, all right!" cried Stephen, delighted, "that'll be jolly! I likeold Wray."
"Very kind of you," said a voice close by.
It was Wraysford himself, who had come in for this very genuinecompliment.
"Hullo! I say, look here, Wraysford," said the beaming Stephen, "I'mgoing to cut Loman and fag for you. Isn't it jolly?"
"Depends on whether I have you. I don't want any Guinea-pigs in mystudy, mind."
Stephen's face fell. For even such a privilege as fagging for Wraysfordhe could not afford to sever the sacred ties which held him to thefellowship of the Guinea-pigs. "I really wouldn't kick-up shines," saidhe, imploringly.
"You'd be a queer Guinea-pig if you didn't!" was the flattering answer."And how many times a week would you go on strike, eh?"
"Oh!" said Stephen, "I'll never go on strike again; I don't like it."
The two friends laughed at this ingenuous admission, and then Wraysfordsaid, "Well, I'll have you; but mind, I'm awfully particular, and knockmy fags about tremendously, don't I, Noll?"
"I don't mind that," said the delighted Stephen. "Besides, you've nothad a fag to knock about!"
At that moment, however, the bell for morning chapel cut short allfurther talk for the present. Stephen obeyed its summons for once in asubdued and thankful frame of mind. Too often had those weekly servicesbeen to him occasions of mere empty form, when with his head full ofschool worries or school fun he had scarcely heard, much less heeded,what was said.
To-day, however, it was different. Stephen was a sobered boy. He hadpassed through perils and temptations from which, if he had escaped, ithad been through no merit of his own. Things might have been fardifferent. His life had been saved, so had his peace of mind, and noweven the consequences of old transgressions had been lightened for him.What had he done to deserve all this?
This was the question which the boy humbly asked himself as he enteredthe chapel that morning, and the Doctor's sermon fitted well with hisaltered frame of mind.
It was a sermon such as he had often heard before in that chapel; thewords struck him now with a new force which almost startled him."Forgetting those things which are behind--reaching forth unto thosethings which are before,"--this was the Doctor's text, and in the fewsimple words in which he urged his hearers to lay the past, with all itsburdens, and disappointments, and shame, upon Him in whom aloneforgiveness is to be found, Stephen drank in new courage and hope forthe future, and in the thankfulness and penitence of his heart resolvedto commit his way more honestly than ever to the best of all keeping,compared with which even a brother's love is powerless.
Before the morning was over Stephen duly went to the Doctor, who talkedto him very seriously. I need not repeat the talk here. Stephen wasvery penitent, and had the good sense to say as little as possible; butwhen it was all over he thanked the Doctor gratefully, and promised heshould never have to talk to him for bad conduct again.
"You must thank your brother for my not dealing a great deal moreseverely with the case," said Dr Senior; "and I am quite ready tobelieve it will not occur again. Now, good-bye."
And off Stephen went, the happiest boy alive, determined more than everto respect the Doctor's authority, and prove himself a model boy.
Sunday afternoon at Saint Dominic's was usually spent by the boys infine weather, in strolling about in the gardens, or rambling into thewoods by the banks of the Shar.
This afternoon, however, was somewhat overcast, and a good many of theboys consequently preferred staying indoors to running the risk ofspoiling their best hats in a shower. Among those who kept the housewas Oliver, who, in reply to Wraysford's invitation to go out, pleadedthat he was not in the humour.
This indeed was the case, for, now that Stephen's affairs were settled,the dread of the approaching Nightingale examination came back over himlike a nightmare, and made him quite miserable. The nearer the hour oftrial came the more convinced did Oliver become that he stood no chancewhatever of winning, and with that conviction all the bright hopes of auniversity course, and the prospects of after-success, seemedextinguished.
Of course it was very ridiculous of him to worry himself into such astate, but then, reader, he had been working just a little too hard, andit was hardly his fault if he was ridiculous.
Wraysford, though by no means in high spirits, kept his head a good dealbetter, and tried to enjoy his walk and forget all about books, as ifnothing at all was going to happen to-morrow. As for Loman, he was notvisible from morning till night, and a good many guessed, and guessedcorrectly, that he was at work, even on Sunday.
The small boys, not so much though, I fear, out of reverence for the dayas for partisanship of the Fifth, were very indignant on the subject,and held a small full-dress meeting after tea, to protest against one ofthe candidates taking such an unfair advantage over the others.
"He ought to be expelled!" exclaimed Paul.
"All very well," said Bramble. "Greenfield senior's cramming too, he'sbeen in all the afternoon."
"He's not cramming, he's got a headache!" said Stephen.
"Oh, yes, I dare say, don't you, Padger? Got a headache--that's a niceexcuse for copying out of cribs on a Sunday."
"He doesn't use cribs, and I tell you he's not working!" said Stephen,indignantly.
"Shut up, do you hear, or you'll get turned out, Potboy!"
This was too much for Stephen, who left the assembly in disgust, afterthreatening to take an early opportunity on the next day of giving hisadversary "one for himself," a threat which we may as well say at oncehere he did not fail to carry out with his wonted energy.
The long Sunday ended at last--a Sunday spoiled to many of the boys ofSaint Dominic's by distracting thoughts and cares--a day which manyimpatiently wished over, and which some wished would never give place tothe morrow.
But that morrow came at last, and with it rose Oliver, strengthened andhopeful once more for the trial that lay before him. He was early atWraysford's study, whom he found only just out of bed.
"Look alive, old man. What do you say to a dip in the river beforebreakfast? We've got plenty of time, and it will wash off the cobwebsbefore the exam."
"All serene," said Wraysford, not very cheerily, though. "Anything'sbetter than doing nothing."
"Why, Wray, I thought
you weren't going to let yourself get down aboutit?"
"I thought you weren't going to let yourself get up--why, you're quitefestive this morning."
"Well, you see, a fellow can't do better than his best, and so as I havedone my best I don't mean to punish myself by getting in the blues."
"Pity you didn't make that resolution yesterday. You were awfully glum,you know, then; and now I've got my turn, you see."
"Oh, never mind, a plunge in the Shar will set you all right."
"Stee," said he, addressing his younger brother, who at that momententered proudly in his new capacity as Wraysford's fag, "mind you havebreakfast ready sharp by eight, do you hear? the best you can get out ofWray's cupboard. Come along, old boy."
And so they went down to the river, Oliver in unusually good spirits,and Wraysford most unusually depressed and nervous. The bathe was not agreat success, for Wraysford evidently did not enjoy it.
"What's wrong, old man?" said Oliver, as they walked back, "aren't youwell?"
"I'm all right," said Wraysford.
"But you're out of spirits. It's odd that I was in dumps and you werein good spirits up to the fatal day, and now things are just reversed.But, I say, you mustn't get down, you know, or it'll tell against you atthe exam."
"It strikes me every answer I give will tell against me. All I hope isthat you get the scholarship."
"I mean to try, just like you and Loman."
And so they went into breakfast, which was a solemn meal, and despiteStephen's care in hunting up delicacies, not very well partaken of.
It seemed ages before the nine o'clock bell summoned them down to theFifth Form room.
Here, however, the sympathy and encouragement of their class-fellowsamply served to pass the time till the examination began.
"Well, you fellows," cried Pembury, as the two entered, "do you feellike winning?"
"Not more than usual," said Oliver. "How do you feel?"
"Oh, particularly cheerful, for I've nothing to do all day, I find. I'mnot in for the Nightingale, or for the Mathematical Medal, or for theEnglish Literature. Simon's in for that, you know, so there's no chancefor any one."
Simon smiled very blandly at this side compliment.
"So you fellows," continued Tony, "may command my services from morningto night if you like."
"Loman was grinding hard all yesterday," said Braddy. "I'm afraid he'llbe rather a hot one to beat."
"But we _must_ beat him, mind, you fellows," said Ricketts, calmly,comprehending the whole class in his "we."
"Why, Wray," said another, "how jolly blue you look! Don't go and funkit, old man, or it's all UP."
"Who's going to funk it?" said Oliver, impatiently, on his friend'sbehalf. "I tell you Wray will most likely win."
"Well, as long as one of you does," said Tom Senior, with nobleimpartiality, "we don't care which; do we, Braddy?"
"Of course not."
So, then, all this sympathy and encouragement were not for the two boysat all, but for their Form. They might just as well have been twocarefully trained racehorses starting on a race with heavy odds uponthem.
The Doctor's entry, however, put an end to any further talk, and, asusual, a dead silence ensued after the boys had taken their seats.
The Doctor looked a little uneasy. Doubtless he was impressed, too, bythe importance of the occasion. He proceeded to call over the lists ofcandidates for the different examinations in a fidgety manner, veryunlike his usual self, and then turning abruptly to the class, said:
"The Mathematical Medal candidates will remain here for examination.The English Literature and Nightingale Scholarship candidates will beexamined in the Sixth Form room. Boys not in for either of theseexaminations may go to their studies till the twelve o'clock bell rings.Before you disperse, however,"--and here the Doctor grew still morefidgety--"I want to mention one matter which I have already mentioned inthe Sixth. I mention it not because I suspect any boy here of adishonourable act, but because--the matter being a mystery--I feel Imust not neglect the most remote opportunity of clearing it up."
What on earth was coming? It was as good as a ghost story, every onewas so spellbound and mystified.
"On Saturday evening I had occasion to leave my study for rather lessthan five minutes, shortly after nine o'clock. I had been engaged ingetting together the various papers of questions for to-day'sexaminations, and left them lying on the corner of the table. Onreturning to my study--I had not been absent five minutes--I found thatone of the papers--one of the Nightingale Scholarship papers, which Ihad only just copied out, was missing. If I were not perfectly sure thefull number was there before I left the room, I should conclude I wasmistaken, but of that I am sure. I just wish to ask this one questionhere, which I have already asked in the Sixth. Does any boy presentknow anything about the missing paper?"
You might have heard a pin drop as the Doctor paused for a reply.
"No? I expected not; I am quite satisfied. You can disperse, boys, toyour various places."
"What a fellow the Doctor is for speeches, Wray," said Oliver, as he andhis friend made their way to the Sixth Form room.
"Yes. But that's a very queer thing about the paper, though."
"Oh, he's certain to have mislaid it somewhere. It's a queer thingsaying anything about it; for it looks uncommonly as if he suspectedsome one."
"So it does. Oh, horrors! here we are at the torture-chamber! I wishit was all over!"
They entered the Sixth Form room, which was regularly cleared foraction. One long desk was allotted to the three Nightingale candidates,two others to the English Literature boys, and another to thecompetitors in a Sixth Form Greek verse contest.
Loman was already in his place, waiting with flushed face for the ordealto begin. The two friends took their seats without vouchsafing anynotice of their rival, and an uncomfortable two minutes ensued, duringwhich it seemed as if the Doctor were never to arrive.
He did arrive at last, however, bringing with him the examination papersfor the various classes.
"Boys for the Greek verse prize come forward."
Wren, Raleigh, Winter, and Callonby advanced, and received each one hispaper.
"Boys for the Nightingale Scholarship come forward."
The three competitors obeyed the summons, and to each was handed apaper.
It was not in human nature to forbear glancing hurriedly at themomentous questions, as each walked slowly back to his seat. The effectof that momentary glance was very different on the three boys.Wraysford's face slightly lengthened, Loman's grew suddenly aghast,Oliver's betrayed no emotion whatever.
"Boys for the English Literature prize come forward."
These duly advanced and were furnished, and then silence reigned in theroom, broken only by the rapid scratching of pens and the solemn tick ofthe clock on the wall.
Reader, you doubtless know the horrors of an examination-room as well asI do. You know what it is to sit biting the end of your pen, andglaring at the ruthless question in front of you. You know what it isto dash nervously from question to question, answering a bit of this anda bit of that, but lacking the patience to work steadily down the list.And you have experienced doubtless the aggravation of hearing the pen ofthe man on your right flying along the paper with a hideous squeak,never stopping for a moment to give you a chance. And knowing all this,there is no need for me to describe the vicissitudes of this particularday of ordeal at Saint Dominic's.
The work went steadily on from morning to afternoon. More than oneanxious face darted now and then nervous glances up at the clock, as thehour of closing approached.
Loman was one of them. He was evidently in difficulties, and the FifthForm fellows, who looked round occasionally from their EnglishLiterature papers, were elated to see their own men writing steadily andhard, while the Sixth man looked all aground. There was one boy,however, who had no time for such observations. That was Simon. He hadgot hold of a question which was aft
er his own heart, and demanded everysecond of his attention--"Describe, in not more than twelve lines ofblank verse, the natural beauties of the River Shar." Here was a chancefor the _Dominican_ poet!
"The Shar is a very beautiful stream, Of the Ouse a tributary; Up at Gusset Weir it's prettiest, I ween, Because there the birds sing so merry."
These four lines the poet styled, "Canto One." Cantos 2, 3, and 4 weremuch of the same excellence, and altogether the effusion was in one ofSimon's happiest moods. Alas! as another poet said, "Art is long, timeis fleeting." The clock pointed to three long before the bard hadpenned his fifth canto; and sadly and regretfully he and hisfellow-candidates gathered together and handed in their papers, forbetter or worse.
Among the last to finish up was Oliver, who had been working hammer andtongs during the whole examination.
"How did you get on?" said Wraysford, as they walked back to the Fifth.
"Middling, not so bad as I feared; how did you?"
"Not very grand, I'm afraid; but better than I expected," saidWraysford. "But I say, did you see how gravelled Loman seemed? I fancyhe didn't do very much."
"So I thought; but I hadn't time to watch him much."
In the Fifth there was a crowd of questioners, eager to ascertain howtheir champions had fared; and great was their delight to learn thatneither was utterly cast down at his own efforts.
"You fellows are regular bricks if you get it!" cried Ricketts.
"It'll be the best thing that has happened for the Fifth for a longtime."
"Oh, I say," said Simon, suddenly, addressing Oliver in a peculiarlyknowing tone, "wasn't it funny, that about the Doctor losing the paper?Just the very time I met you coming out of his study, you know, onSaturday evening. But of course I won't say anything. Only wasn't itfunny?"
What had come over Oliver, that he suddenly turned crimson, and withouta single word struck the speaker angrily with his open hand on theforehead?
Was he mad? or could it possibly be that--
Before the assembled Fifth could recover from their astonishment orconjecture as to the motive for this sudden exhibition of feeling, heturned abruptly to the door and quitted the room.
The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's: A School Story Page 23
