CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
THE "DOMINICAN" ON THE SITUATION.
The examination at the beginning of the term had seriously interferedwith the prospects of the _Dominican_. Pembury knew well enough it wasno good trying to get anything out of the diligent section of hisclass-fellows at such a time; and he knew equally well that a numbercontributed entirely by the idlers of the Fifth would neither becreditable to the paper nor appreciated by any one outside.
So like a prudent man he held back patiently till the examinations wereover, and then pounced down on his men with redoubled importunity.
"Look here," said he one day to Ricketts, "when are you going to let mehave that paper of yours?"
"What paper do you mean?" demanded Ricketts.
"Why for the _Dominican_, of course; you don't suppose I want one ofyour cast-off exam papers, do you?"
"Oh, I can't do anything for the _Dominican_ this time," said Ricketts.
"Yes, you can, and yes, you will," coolly replied Anthony.
"Who says I will?" demanded Ricketts, inclined to be angry.
"It sounds as if _I_ do," replied the editor. "Why of course you'll dosomething for it, Rick?"
"I'd be glad enough, but really I'm not in the humour," said Ricketts.
"Why ever not?" demanded Tony.
"Why, the fact is," said Ricketts, "I fancy the Fifth is not exactlylooking up at present, and we've nothing particular to be proud of. Ifyou take my advice you'll keep the _Dominican_ quiet for a bit."
"My dear fellow, that's the very thing we mustn't do. Don't you see,you old duffer you, that if we shut up shop and retire into privatelife, everybody will be thinking we daren't hold up our heads? I meanto hold up my head, for one," added Tony, proudly, "if there were athousand Greenfields in the class; and I mean to make you hold up yourstoo, old man. It'll be time enough to do the hang-dog business when weall turn knaves; but till we do, we've as good a right to be known atSaint Dominic's as anybody else. So none of your humbug, Rick. We'llget out an extra good _Dominican_, and let the fellows see we're aliveand kicking."
This speech had the required effect. It not only won over Ricketts, butmost of the other leading spirits of the Fifth, who had been similarlyholding back.
Tony was not the fellow to let an advantage go by. Having once got hismen into a becoming frame of mind, he kept them well in hand and workedthem up into something like the old enthusiasm on the subject of the_Dominican_.
Every one was determined the present number should be an out-and-outgood one, and laboured and racked his brains accordingly.
But somehow or other the fellows had never found it so hard, first toget inspirations, and then to put them down on paper, as they did atpresent. Every one thought he had something very fine and very cleverto say if he could only find expression for it. The amount ofbrain-cudgelling that went on over this _Dominican_ was simply awful.Wraysford gave it up in disgust. Ricketts, Bullinger, Tom Senior, andothers stumbled through their tasks, and could only turn out lameproductions at the best. Even Pembury's lucubrations lacked a good dealof their wonted dash and spirit. The cloud which was hanging over theFifth seemed to have overshadowed its genius for a while.
Still Pembury kept his men at it and gave them no peace till theirproductions, such as they were, were safe in his hands. One boy onlywas equal to the emergency; that I need hardly say was Simon. He wasindeed more eloquent than ever. He offered Pembury a poem of fortyverses, entitled, "An Elegy on the Wick of a Candle that had just beenblown out," to begin with, and volunteered to supplement thiscontribution with one or two smaller pieces, such as, "My Little Lark,"or "An Adventure outside the Dormitory Door," or "Mind Mewsings."
Pembury prudently accepted all, and said he would insert what he thoughtfit, an assurance which delighted Simon, who immediately sat down andwrote some more "pieces," in case at the last moment there might be roomfor them too. But, in spite even of these valuable contributions, the_Dominican_ fell flat. There were a few good things in it here andthere, but it was far below its ordinary form; and not a few of thewriters repented sorely that ever they had put pen to paper to helpproduce it.
The chief amusement of the paper was contained in a "New Code ofRegulations for the Better Management of Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles," fromthe editor's pen. It began thus:
"A society has lately been started at Saint Dominic's for thepreservation and management of Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles. The followingare some of the rules to be observed:--
"Any one owning a Guinea-pig or Tadpole is to be responsible for washingit with soap and hot water at least twice a day.
"Any one owning a Guinea-pig or Tadpole is to supply the rest of theschool with cotton wool and scent.
"No Guinea-pig or Tadpole is on any account to use hair oil or greasewhich has not been sanctioned by a joint committee of the Fifth, Sixth,and masters.
"During the approaching winter, every one possessing a Guinea-pig orTadpole shall be at liberty, providing it is regularly washed, to use itas a warming-pan for his own bed."
The small tribe of furious juniors who as usual had crowded round thepaper on the morning of publication to get "first read," broke forth atthis point into a howl of exasperation.
"They won't! I'll see they won't use me as a warming-pan, won't you,Padger? The brutes! I'll bite their horrid cold feet if they stickthem against me, that's what I'll do."
"I'll keep a pin to stick into them," said another.
"I'll get some leeches and put on their legs," shouted another.
"I'll tell you what," said Stephen, changing the subject, "it's coolcheek of them calling us `it,' as if we were things."
"So they have," exclaimed Paul; "oh, I say, that's too much; I'll letthem know _I'm_ not a thing."
"Yes, you are a thing, isn't he, Padger? A regular _it_," exclaimed thevindictive Bramble. "Yah, boo, old `_its_,' both of you."
"Hold hard," said some one, just as the usual hostilities were about tocommence. "Listen to this." And he read the next "regulation":--
"Immediate steps are to be taken to pickle a Tadpole as a specimen forthe school museum. The following is a recipe for this. Take theugliest, dirtiest, noisiest, and most ignorant specimen that can befound. Lift it carefully with a pair of tongs into a bath full ofvinegar. Close the lid and let it remain there to soak for a week. Atthe end of that time lift it out and scrape it well all over with asharp substance, to get off the first coating of grime. Soak again foranother week and scrape again, and so on till the ninth or tenth coatingis removed. After that the creature will appear thinner than when itbegan. Hang it up to dry in a clean place, and be sure no otherGuinea-pigs or Tadpoles come near it. Then put it in a clean gown, andquickly, before it can get at the ink, put it in a large glass bottleand fasten down the stopper. Label it, `Specimen of a curious reptileformerly found at Saint Dominic's. Now happily extinct.'"
"There you are," said Paul, when, after much blundering and sticking atwords, this remarkable paragraph had been read through. "There you are,Bramble, my boy; what do you think of that?" Bramble had no difficultyin intimating what he thought of it in pretty strong language, and forsome little time the further reading of the _Dominican_ was suspended.
When, however, the row was over, the group had been joined by several ofthe elder boys, who appeared to appreciate Simon's poem, "An Adventureoutside the Dormitory Door." It was called an "epick," and began thus.The reader must be contented with quite a short extract:--
"Outside the Dormitory door I walked me slow upon the floor And just outside the Doctor's study A youth I met all in a hurry; His name perhaps I had better not tell But like a snail retire into my shell."
This last simile had evidently particularly delighted the poet. So muchso, that he brought it in at the close of every succeeding verse. The"epick" went on, of course, to unravel the threads of the "adventure,"and to intimate pretty plainly who "the youth" referred to was. To anyone not interested in the po
et or his epic the production was a dullone, and the moral at the end was not quite clear even to the mostintellectual.
"Now I must say farewell; yet stay, methinks How many many youths do sit on brinks. Oh joy to feel the soft breeze sigh And in the shady grove to wipe the eye, It makes me feel a man I know full well, But like a snail I'll now retire within my shell."
These were the only articles in the _Dominican_ that afforded anyamusement. The remainder of the paper, made up of the usual articlessneering at the Sixth and crowing over the school generally, were verytame. The result of the Nightingale Scholarship was announced asfollows:--
"The examination for the Nightingale Scholarship was held on the 1st October. The scholarship was lost by Loman of the Sixth by 70 marks to 97. A good performance on the whole."
This manner of announcing the unfortunate result was ingenious, and didTony credit. For, whether his object was to annoy the Sixth or toshield the Fifth, he succeeded amply in both. There were some, however,in the Fifth who were by no means content that Greenfield should be letoff so easily in the _Dominican_, and these read with interest thefollowing "Notes from Coventry," contributed by Bullinger. Anthony hadaccepted and inserted them against his better judgment.
"If the fellow is at Coventry, why not let him stay there?" he said toBullinger. "The best thing we can possibly do is to let him alone."
"I don't see it," said Bullinger. "Everybody will think we are tryingto shield him if we keep so quiet. Anyhow, here's my paper. You canput it in or not, which you like. I'm not going to write anythingelse."
Pembury took the paper and put it in. The reader may like to hear a fewof the "Notes from Coventry."
"The quaint old city of Coventry has lately been visited by a`gentleman' from Saint Dominic's, who appears so charmed with all he hasseen and heard that it is expected he will remain there for someconsiderable time.
"The object of his visit is of a private nature, possibly for thepurpose of scientific research, for which absolute quiet is necessary.His experiments are chiefly directed to the making or taking ofexamination papers, and on his return we may look for valuablediscoveries. Meanwhile he sees very little company. The society inwhich he most delights is that of certain Guinea-pigs, between whom andhimself a special bond of sympathy appears to exist. It is a touchingsight to see him taking his daily walks in company with these singularanimals; who, be it said, seem to be the only creatures able toappreciate his character. Curiously enough, since he left us, SaintDominic's has not collapsed; indeed, it is a singular fact that now heis away it is no longer considered necessary for every fellow to lockhis study-door when he goes out, and keep the key." And so on.
Miserable stuff indeed, as Stephen thought, but quite stinging enough towound him over and over again as he saw the sneers and heard the laughswith which the reading of the extract was greeted. Everybody evidentlywas against his brother, and, with a deep disgust and fury at his heart,he left them to laugh by themselves and returned to Oliver's study.
He found his brother in what were now his usual cheerful spirits. Forafter the first week or so of his being sent to Coventry, Oliver, in hisown study at least, kept up a cheerful appearance.
"Hullo, Stee," said he as the young brother entered. "You're just intime. Here's a letter from mother."
"Is there? How jolly! Read it out, Noll."
So Oliver read it out. It was an ordinary, kind, motherly epistle, suchas thousands of schoolboys get every week of the school year. All abouthome, and what is going on, how the dogs are, where sister Mary has beento, how the boiler burst last week, which apple-tree bore most, and soon; every scrap of news that could be scraped up from the four winds ofheaven was in that letter.
And to the two brothers, far away, and lonely even among theirschoolfellows, it came like a breath of fresh air that morning.
"I have been so proud," went on Mrs Greenfield towards the end of theletter, "ever since I heard of dear Oliver's success in winning thescholarship. Not so much for the value of it, though that is prettyconsiderable, but because I am so sure he deserves it."
"Hear, hear!" put in Stephen.
"Poor Mr Wraysford! I hope he is not very much disappointed. How niceit would have been if there had been two scholarships, and each couldhave had one! I suppose the Fifth is making quite a hero of Oliver. Iknow one foolish old woman who would like to be with her boys thismoment to share their triumph."
Oliver laughed bitterly.
"That _would_ be a treat for her!"
Stephen, very red in the face, was too furious for words, so Oliver wenton:
"And if, instead of triumph, they should ever be in trouble or sorrow,still more would I love to be with them, to share it. But most of alldo I trust and pray they may both make a constant friend of the Saviour,who wants us all to cast our burdens on Him, and follow the example Hehas left us in all things."
There was a silence for some moments after this home message fell on thebrothers' ears. The hearts of both were full--too full for words--but Ithink, had the widow-mother far away been able to divine the secretthoughts of her boys, hope would have mingled with all her pity and allher solicitude on their account.
But the old trouble, for the present at any rate, was destined to swampall other emotions.
Oliver continued reading: "Christmas will not be so very long now incoming. We must have a real snug, old-fashioned time of it here. UncleHenry has promised to come, and your cousins. It would be nice if youcould persuade Mr Wraysford to come here then. I am so anxious to seehim again. Tell him from me I reckon on him to be one of our party ifhe can possibly manage it."
"Baa!" exclaimed Stephen. "The beast! I'll let her know what sort ofblackguard the fellow is!"
"Easy all, young 'un," said Oliver.
"I shan't easy all, Noll!" exclaimed the boy; "he _is_ a blackguard, youknow he is, and I hate him."
"I think he's a fool just now," said Oliver, "but--well, he fished youout of the Thames, Stee; you oughtn't to call him a blackguard."
"I wish he'd left me in the Thames," said Stephen, nearly breaking down."I've been miserable enough this term for half a dozen."
Oliver looked hard and long at his young brother. It never seemed tohave occurred to him before how deeply the boy took the trouble of hiselder brother to heart.
Now if Oliver had really been innocent, the natural thing would havebeen--wouldn't it?--for him to be quite cut up at this exhibition offeeling, and fall on his brother's neck and protest once more that henever did or would or could do such a thing as that he was suspected of.But instead of this, the hardened villain turned quite cross when hesaw his brother at the point of tears, and exclaimed, hurriedly, "Don'tmake a young fool of yourself, Stee, whatever you do. It won't do a bitof good."
"But, Noll, old man," pleaded the boy, "why ever don't you--"
"Because I don't choose, and it would be no use if I did," retorted theother.
"But the fellows all suspect you!"
"I can't help that, if they do. Come now, Stee, we've had enough ofthis. It'll all come right some day, you see, and meanwhile what do yousay to a turn in the gymnasium?"
"Well, but," persisted Stephen, not half satisfied, "you surely aren'tgoing to give mother's message to Wraysford? _I_ don't want him home atChristmas."
"No one asked you if you did, you young duffer. But I don't think, allthe same, I shall give it just yet."
They were walking down the big passage arm-in-arm in the direction ofthe gymnasium, and as Oliver spoke these last words the subject of theirconversation appeared advancing towards them.
Who could have believed that those three friends who only a month or twoago were quoted all over Saint Dominic's as inseparables could ever meetand pass one another as these three met and passed one another now?
Wraysford coloured as he caught sight of his old ally, and lookedanother way. Oliver, more composed, kept his eyes fixed straight ahead,and appeared to be com
pletely unconscious of the presence of any one butStephen, who hung on to his arm, snorting and fuming and inwardly raginglike a young tiger held in by the chain from his prey.
An odd meeting indeed, and a miserable one; yet to none of the three somiserable as to the injured Wraysford, who ever since the day of theNightingale examination had not known a happy hour at Saint Dominic's.
The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's: A School Story Page 28
