The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's: A School Story

by Talbot Baines Reed

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

  AT COVENTRY.

  Were you ever at Coventry, reader? I don't mean the quaint oldWarwickshire city, but that other place where from morning till nightyou are shunned and avoided by everybody? Where friends with whom youwere once on the most intimate terms now pass you without a word, orlook another way as you go by? Where, whichever way you go, you findyourself alone? Where every one you speak to is deaf, every one youappear before is blind, every one you go near has business somewhereelse? Where you will be left undisturbed in your study for a week, tofag for yourself, study by yourself, disport yourself with yourself?Where in the playground you will be as solitary as if you were in thedesert, in school you will be a class by yourself, and even in church onSundays you will feel hopelessly out in the cold among yourfellow-worshippers?

  If you have ever been to such a place, you can imagine OliverGreenfield's experiences during this Christmas term at Saint Dominic's.

  When the gentlemen of the Fifth Form had once made up their minds toanything, they generally carried it through with great heartiness, andcertainly they never succeeded better in any undertaking than in this of"leaving Oliver to himself."

  The only drawback to their success was that the proceeding appeared tohave little or no effect on the _very_ person on whose behalf it wasundertaken. Not that Oliver could be _quite_ insensible of the honourspaid him. He could not--they were too marked for that. And withoutdoubt they were as unpleasant as they were unmistakable. But, for anysign of unhappiness he displayed, the whole affair might have been amatter of supreme indifference to him. Indeed, it looked quite as muchas if Greenfield had sent the Fifth to Coventry as the Fifth Greenfield.If they determined none of them to speak to him, he was equallydetermined none of them should have the chance; and if it was part oftheir scheme to leave him as much as possible to himself, they hadlittle trouble in doing it, for he, except when inevitable, never camenear them.

  Of course this was dreadfully irritating to the Fifth! The moralrevenge they had promised themselves on the disgracer of their classnever seemed to come off. The wind was taken out of their sails atevery turn. The object of their aversion was certainly not reduced tohumility or penitence by their conduct; on the contrary, one or two ofthem felt decidedly inclined to be ashamed of themselves and feelfoolish when they met their victim.

  Oliver always had been a queer fellow, and he now came out in a queererlight than ever.

  Having once seen how the wind lay, and what he had to expect from theFifth, he altered the course of his life to suit the new circumstanceswith the greatest coolness. Instead of going up the river in a pair-oaror a four, he now went up in a sculling boat or a canoe, and seemed toenjoy himself quite as much. Instead of doing his work with Wraysfordevening after evening, he now did it undisturbed by himself, and, tojudge by his progress in class, more successfully than ever. Instead ofpractising with the fifteens at football, he went in for a regularcourse of practice in the gymnasium, and devoted himself with remarkablesuccess to the horizontal bar and the high jump. Instead of casting inhis lot in class with a jovial though somewhat distracting set, he nowkept his mind free for his studies, and earned the frequent commendationof the Doctor and Mr Jellicott.

  Now, reader, I ask you, if you had been one of the Fifth of SaintDominic's would not all this have been very riling? Here was a fellowconvicted of a shameful piece of deceit, caught, one might say, in thevery act, and by his own conduct as good as admitting it. Here was afellow, I say, whom every sensible boy ought to avoid, not only showinghimself utterly indifferent to the aversion of his class-fellows, butpositively thriving and triumphing before their very faces! Was it anywonder if they felt very sore, and increasingly sore on the subject ofOliver Greenfield?

  One boy, of course, stuck to the exile through thick and thin. IfOliver had murdered all Saint Dominic's with slow poison, Stephen wouldhave stuck to him to the end, and he stuck to him now. He, at least,never once admitted that his brother was guilty. When slowly he firstdiscovered what were the suspicions of the Fifth, and what was thecommon talk of the school about Oliver, the small boy's indignation waspast description. He rushed to his brother.

  "Do you hear the lies the fellows are telling about you, Noll?"

  "Yes," said Oliver.

  "Why don't you stop it, and tell them?"

  "What's the use? I've told them once. If they don't choose to believeit, they needn't."

  Any other boy would, of course, have taken this as clear evidence of theelder brother's guilt; but it only strengthened the small boy'sindignation.

  "_I'll_ let them know, if _you_ won't!" and forthwith he went andproceeded to make himself a perfect nuisance in the school. He beganwith Wraysford.

  "I say, Wray," he demanded, "do you hear all the lies the fellows aretelling about Noll?"

  "Don't make a row now," said Wraysford, shortly. "I'm busy." ButStephen had no notion of being put down.

  "The fellows say he stole an exam paper, the blackguards! I'd like topunch all their heads, and I will too!"

  "Clear out of my study, now," said Wraysford, sharply.

  Stephen stared at him a moment. Then his face grew pale as he graspedthe meaning of it all.

  "I say, Wray, surely _you_ don't believe it?" he cried.

  "Go away now," was Wraysford's only answer.

  But this did not suit Stephen, his blood was up, and he meant to have itout.

  "Surely _you_ don't believe it?" he repeated, disregarding theimpatience of the other; "_you_ aren't a blackguard, like the rest?"

  "Do you hear what I tell you?" said Wraysford.

  "No, and I don't mean to!" retorted the irate Stephen. "If you wereanything of a friend you'd stand up for Oliver. You're a beast,Wraysford, that's what you are!" continued he, in a passion. "You're ablackguard! you're a liar! I could kill you!"

  And the poor boy, wild with rage and misery, actually flung himselfblindly upon his brother's old friend--the saviour of his own life.

  Wraysford was not angry. There was more of pity in his face than angeras he took the small boy by the arm and led him to the door. Stephen nolonger resisted. After giving vent to the first flood of his anger,misery got the upper hand of him, and he longed to go anywhere to hideit. He could have endured to know that Oliver was suspected by a goodmany of the fellows, but to find Wraysford among them was a cruel blow.

  But in due time his indignation again came to the fore, and he venturedon another crusade. This time it was to Pembury. He knew before hewent he had little enough to expect from the sharp-tongued editor of the_Dominican_, so he went hoping little.

  To his surprise, however, Pembury was kinder than usual. He told himplainly that he did suspect Oliver, and explained why, and advisedStephen, if he were wise, to say as little about Oliver as possible atpresent. The young champion was quite cowed by this unexpectedreception. He did his best to fly in a rage and be defiant, but it wasno use, and he retired woefully discomfited from the interview.

  Others to whom he applied, when once again his anger got the better ofhis wretchedness, met him with taunts, others with contempt, others withpositive unkindness; and after a week Stephen gave it up and retired indudgeon to the territory of the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles, determinedthat there at least he would, at the edge of the knuckle, if needs be,compel a faction to declare for his brother.

  In this undertaking, I need hardly say, he was eminently successful.There were those among the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles who were ready todeclare for anybody or anything as long as there was a chance of a rowon the head of it. Already the question of Greenfield senior had beenoccupying their magnificent minds. When the story first fell suddenlyinto their midst, it was so surprising that, like the frogs and the login the fable, they were inclined to be a little shy of it. But,gradually becoming accustomed to it, and looking carefully into it fromall sides, it seemed somehow to contain the promise of a jolly row, andtheir hearts warmed to it proportionally
. No one quite liked to startthe thing at first, for fear doubtless of not doing it full justice, butit only wanted a spark to kindle the whole lower school on the questionof Greenfield senior. Stephen it was who supplied the spark.

  He entered the Fourth Junior room one day, after one of the unsuccessfulcrusades of which we have spoken, utterly cast down and out of humour.He flung his cap on to the peg, and himself on to his seat, in anunusually agitated manner, and then, to the astonishment of everybody,broke out into tears!

  This was a rare and glorious opportunity, of course, for Bramble.

  "Beastly young blub-baby!" exclaimed that doughty hero, "you're alwaysblubbing! I never knew such a fellow to blub, did you, Padger?"

  Padger said it was worse than the baby at home, and the two thereuponstarted a mocking caterwaul on their own account, in which not a few oftheir nearest and dearest friends joined.

  This performance had the effect of restoring Stephen's composure.Hastily dashing away his tears, he flew with unwonted wrath at hisenemy. Bramble, however, managed to get behind Padger and the rest, andthus fortified shouted out, "Yah, boo, howling young sucking pig! gohome to your mammy, or your great big cheat of a blackguard thief of acaddish big brother! Do you hear? Who stole the exam paper? Eh,Padger? Yah, boo, pack of sneaking Guinea-pigs!"

  This last objurgation, which was quite unnecessary to the beauty orforce of the speech, gave rise to a huge tumult.

  The Guinea-pigs present took it up as a direct challenge to themselves,and it decided them instantly to declare in favour of Stephen and hisbig brother. Paul led the attack.

  "Shut up, you young cad, will you?" said he; "you know well enough _you_stole the paper."

  Of course no one, not even Paul himself, attached any meaning to such anabsurd accusation, but it came conveniently to hand.

  This declaration of war was promptly taken up on all sides, and for ashort period the Fourth Junior had a rather dusty appearance. When atlength a little order was restored, a lively discussion on the crime ofGreenfield senior ensued. The Tadpoles to a man believed in it, andgave it as their candid opinion that the fellow ought to be hung. "Yes,and expelled too!" added a few of the more truculent.

  The Guinea-pigs, on the other hand, whatever they thought, protestedvehemently that Greenfield senior was the most virtuous, heroic,saintly, and jolly fellow in all Saint Dominic's, and denounced theTadpoles and all the rest of the school as the most brutal ruffians inChristendom.

  "They ought all to be expelled, every one of them," said one; "allexcept Greenfield senior, and I hope they will be."

  "All I know is," said Paul, "I'll let them have a bit of my mind, someof them."

  "So will I," said another.

  "You haven't got any to give 'em a bit of," squealed Bramble, "so now!"

  "All right, I'll give 'em a bit of _you_ then," retorted Paul.

  "You wouldn't get any of them to touch him with a pair of tongs," addedanother.

  This was too much for Bramble, and another brief period of dust ensued.Then, comparative quiet once more prevailing, Paul said, "I tell youwhat, _I_ mean to stick to Greenfield senior."

  "So do I," said another youth, with his face all over ink. "I mean _tofag_ for him."

  "So do I!" shouted another.

  "So do I!" shouted another.

  And a general chorus of assent hailed the idea.

  "We'll all fag for him, I vote, eh, Stee?" said Paul, "the whole lot ofus! My eye, that'll be prime! Won't the others just about look blackand blue!"

  It was a magnificent idea! And no sooner conceived than executed.

  There was a great rush of Guinea-pigs to Oliver's study. He was notthere. So much the better. They would give him a delightful surprise!

  So they proceeded straightway to empty his cupboards and drawers, topolish up his cups, to unfold his clothes and fold them again, to takedown his books and put them up again, to upset his ink and mop it upwith one of his handkerchiefs, to make his tea and spill it on thefloor, to dirty his collars with their inky hands, to clean his bootswith his hat-brush, and many other thoughtful and friendly actscalculated to make the heart of their hero glad.

  In the midst of their orgies, Wraysford and Pembury passed the door, andstopped to look in, wondering what on earth the tumult was about. Butthey were greeted with such a storm of yells and hisses that they passedon, a little uneasy in their minds as to whether or no hydrophobia hadbroken out in Saint Dominic's.

  After them a detachment of Tadpoles, headed by Bramble appeared on thescene, for the purpose of mocking. But, whatever their purpose may havebeen, it was abandoned for more active opposition when Paul presentlyemptied a tumblerful of lukewarm tea in the face of Master Bramble.

  A notable battle was fought on the threshold of Greenfield senior'sstudy, in which many were wounded on both sides, and in the midst ofwhich Oliver arrived on the scene, kicking right and left, and causing ageneral rout.

  How their hero appreciated the attentions his admirers had paid himduring his absence the Guinea-pigs did not remain or return toascertain. They took for granted he was grateful, and bashfully keptout of the way of his thanks for a whole day.

  After that their enthusiasm returned, but this time it found a new vent.They decided that, although they would all fag for him to the end ofhis days, they would not for a season, at any rate, solicit jobs fromhim, but rather encourage him by their sympathy and applause at a morerespectful distance.

  So they took to cheering him in the playground, and following him downthe passages. And this not being enough, they further relievedthemselves by hooting (at a respectful distance also) the chiefs of thesenior school, whose opinions on the question of Greenfield senior wereknown not to agree with their own.

  If Oliver was not grateful for all this moral support in his trouble, hemust have been a villain indeed of the deepest dye. He never said in somany words he was grateful; but then the Guinea-pigs remembered thatfeelings are often too deep and too many for words, and so took forgranted the thanks which their consciences told them they deserved.

  Meanwhile a fresh number of the _Dominican_ was in progress, and rapidlynearing the hour of publication.