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

by Talbot Baines Reed

  CHAPTER THIRTY.

  A NEW TURN OF THE TIDE.

  The three weeks of Christmas holiday darted past only too rapidly formost of the boys at Saint Dominic's. Holidays have a miserable knack ofsliding along. The first few days seem delightfully long. Then, afterthe first week, the middle all of a sudden becomes painfully near. Andthe middle once passed, they simply tear, and bolt, and rush pitilesslyon to the end, when, lo and behold! your time is up before you well knewit had begun.

  So it happened with most of the boys. With one or two, however, theholiday dragged heavily, and one of these was Master Thomas Senior.This forlorn youth, no longer now rollicking Tom of the Fifth, but themeek and mild, and withal sulky, hopeful of the Reverend Thomas Senior,D.D., of Saint Dominic's, watched the last of his chums go off withanything but glee. He was doomed to three weeks' kicking of his heelsin the empty halls and playgrounds of Saint Dominic's, with nothing todo and no one to do it with. For the boy's mother was ill, which keptthe whole family at home, and Tom's baby brother, vivacious youth as hewas, was hardly of a companionable age yet.

  As to the Doctor (Tom, by the way, even in the bosom of his family,always thought and talked of his father as the "Doctor")--as for theDoctor, well, Tom was inclined to shirk the risk of more _tete-a-tetes_than he could possibly help with so formidable a personage, even thoughhe _was_ his own parent.

  But try all he could, Tom was let in for it once, when he found himselfface to face one day at dinner with the Doctor, and no third person tohelp him out.

  The occasion was quite early in the holidays, and was indeed about thefirst opportunity the father had had since breaking-up for anything likea conversation with his affable son.

  Tom's conversational powers were never very brilliant, and when in thesubduing presence of his father they always dwindled down to nothing.It was, therefore, somewhat difficult, under the circumstances, to keepthe talk going, but the Doctor did his best. Tom answered inmonosyllables, and looked fearfully sheepish, and found his best policywas always to keep his mouth full, and so have the excuse of goodmanners on his side for his silence.

  "Tom," said the Doctor, presently, steering round to a subject which ithad been for some time in his mind to question his son about, "that wasan extraordinary demonstration on prize-day, when Greenfield senior cameup to get his scholarship."

  "It wasn't me," said Tom, colouring up.

  "My dear boy, I never supposed it was," said the Doctor, laughing. "Butit surprised me very much, as well as pained me."

  "I couldn't help it," again said Tom.

  "Of course you couldn't, Tom. But I am sorry to find Greenfield is sounpopular in the school."

  The Doctor did not care to put a direct question to Tom on the matterthat was perplexing him. He hoped to draw him out by more indirectmeans. But he was mistaken if he ever expected it, for Tom, with theperversity of a fellow who _will_ take everything that is said as arebuke to himself, showed no inclination to follow the lead. The Doctorhad, therefore, to ask outright.

  "What dreadful crime has he committed, Tom, to be treated so severely?"

  "I don't want to treat him severely," said Tom. "Tom," said the Doctor,half angrily, "you are very foolish. I was not referring to youparticularly, but to the whole school."

  Tom sulked at this more than ever. _He_ wasn't going to be calledfoolish. The Doctor, however, tried once more.

  "What has he done to offend you all? Has he missed a catch at cricket,or a kick at football? I hope, whatever it is--"

  "It isn't me!" once more growled Tom, heartily wishing the meal wasover.

  The Doctor gave it up as a bad job. There was no use trying to get arise out of Tom. If that ingenuous youth had been trying to shield hisForm, he could not have done it better. As it was, he was only stupidlytrying to shield himself, and letting his dread of his "Doctor" fatherget the better of his common sense and good manners.

  Luckily for Tom, a friend wrote to invite him to spend the last week ofthe holidays in London, an invitation which that youth, as well as hisparent for him, thankfully accepted. Indeed, during the holidays MrsSenior became so ill that the poor Doctor had no thoughts to spare foranybody or anything but her and her hope of recovery. He watched hernight and day through all the vicissitudes of her fever, and when atlast the crisis was over, and the doctors said she would recover, theysaid also that unless Dr Senior wanted to have an illness himself hemust go away and get perfect rest and change for a week or two at thevery least.

  The consequence of all this was that Saint Dominic's had to reassembleafter the Christmas holidays without the Doctor.

  To some of the boys this was sorrowful news; others regarded thecircumstance with indifference, while one section there was who receivedthe intelligence with positive joy.

  Strange that that section should contain in it two such opposites asLoman of the Sixth and Bramble of the Fourth Junior.

  Loman, despite his "run of luck," had spent an uneasy holiday. He hadbeen in constant terror of seeing Cripps every time he ventured outsidehis house; and he had been in still more terror of Cripps calling up atSaint Dominic's and telling the Doctor all about him directly after theholidays. For now Loman's time was up. Though he had in one way andanother paid off all his debt to the landlord of the Cockchafer buteight pounds, still he knew Cripps could make himself quite asunpleasant about eight pounds as about thirty pounds, and probablywould.

  But as long as the Doctor was away it didn't matter so much. And,besides, the examination for the exhibition would of course bepostponed, which meant so much longer time for preparation--which meantso much better chance for Loman of winning it. For, when he tried, hecould work hard and effectively.

  So Loman was very glad to hear the Doctor was away ill. So was Bramble!

  That youth (who, by the way, had during the holidays quite recoveredfrom the sobering effect of his grandmother's visit to the school) wasalways on a look-out for escaping the eye of the constitutedauthorities. He hardly ever saw the Doctor from one month's end toanother; but somehow, to know he was away--to know any one was away whoought to be there to look after him--was a glorious opportunity! Helaunched at once into a series of revolutionary exploits on the strengthof it. He organised mutinies ten times a day, and had all thespecifications drawn up for blowing up Saint Dominic's with paraffinoil. There was nothing, in short, Bramble would not venture while theDoctor was away; and there is no knowing how far he might have carriedhis bloodthirsty conspiracies into effect had not Mr Rastle caught himone day with a saw, sawing the legs off the writing-master's stool, andgiven him such a chastisement, bodily and mental, as induced him for abrief season to retire from public life, and devote all his spare timeto copying out an imposition.

  On the first morning after reassembling, Mr Jellicott, the master incharge of Saint Dominic's, summoned the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth to meethim in the lecture-theatre, and there announced to them the reason ofthe head master's absence.

  "In consequence of this," said Mr Jellicott, "the removes gained lastterm will not be put into force for a week or two, till the head masterreturns; but, meanwhile, Dr Senior is anxious that the work of theschool should go on as usual. We shall, therefore, resume studiesto-morrow; and on Monday next the examination for the WaterstonExhibition will be held, as arranged. The three boys--Loman, Greenfieldsenior, and Wraysford--entered for this will be excused ordinary lessonstill after the examination."

  Greenfield senior! Then Oliver _was_ in for it after all! Theannouncement amazed Wraysford as much as it did Loman and every oneelse. It had never entered their minds that he would go in for it.Hadn't he got the Nightingale? and wasn't that enough for one half-year?And didn't every one know _how_ he had got it, and how could the fellownow have the assurance to put in for another examination?

  Oliver always had been a queer fellow, and this move struck every one asqueerer than ever.

  But to Wraysford and one or two others it occurred in a different light
.If Oliver had really won the Nightingale in the manner every onesuspected, he would hardly now boldly enter for another examination, inwhich he might possibly not succeed, and so prove those suspicions to betrue. For the subjects were almost exactly the same as those examinedin for the Nightingale, and unless Oliver did as well here as he didthere--and that was _remarkably_ well--it would be open for anybody tosay, "Of course--he couldn't steal the paper this time, that's why!"

  Wraysford, as he thought over it, became more and more uneasy andashamed of himself. One moment he persuaded himself Oliver was ahypocrite, and the next that he was innocent. "At any rate," said he tohimself, "this examination will settle it."

  In due time the examination day came, and once more the three rivalsheard their names called upon to come forward and occupy that memorablefront desk in the Sixth Form room.

  This time at any rate there had been no chance for any one to take anunfair advantage, for the Doctor's papers did not reach Saint Dominic'still the morning of the examination. Indeed, Mr Jellicott was openingthe envelope which contained them when the boys entered the room.

  Any one closely observing the three boys as they glanced each down hispaper would once more have been struck by the strange contrast in theirfaces. Oliver's, as his eyes glanced rapidly down the page, wascomposed and immovable; Wraysford's, as he looked first at his paper andthen hurriedly at Oliver and Loman, was perplexed and troubled; Loman'swas blank and pale and desponding.

  But of the three, the happiest that morning was Wraysford--not that hewas sure of success, not that his conscience was clear of all reproach,but because, as he sat there, working hard himself and hearing someone's pen on his left flying with familiar sound quickly over the paper,he felt at last absolutely sure that he had misjudged his friend, andequally resolved that, come what would of it, and humiliating as theconfession would be, he would, before that day ended, be reconciled toOliver Greenfield. What mattered it to him, then, who won theexhibition? Loman might win it for all _he_ cared, as long as he wonback his friend.

  However, Loman at that moment did not look much like winning anything.If he had been in difficulties in the former examination, he was utterlystranded now. He tried first one question, then another, but noinspiration seemed to come; and at last, after dashing off a few linesat random, he laid down his pen, and, burying his face in his hands,gave himself up to his own wretched thoughts. He must see Cripps soon;he must go to him or Cripps would come up to Saint Dominic's, and then--

  Well, Loman did not do much execution that morning, and was thankfulwhen presently Mr Jellicott said, "Time will be up in five minutes,boys."

  The announcement was anything but welcome to the other two competitors,both of whom were writing, hammer and tongs, as though their livesdepended on it. Loman looked round at them and groaned as he looked.Why should they be doing so well and he be doing so ill?

  "Look at those two beggars!" said Callonby to Stansfield, in a whisper,pointing to Wraysford and Oliver. "There's a neck-and-neck race foryou!"

  So it was. Now Oliver seemed to be getting over the ground quicker, andnow Wraysford. Now Wraysford lost a good second by looking up at theclock; now Greenfield made a bad shot with his pen at the inkpot, andhad to dip again, which threw him back half a second at least.

  Unconscious of the interest and amusement they were exciting among thesporting section of the Sixth, they kept the pace up to the finish, andwhen at last Mr Jellicott said, "Cease writing and bring up yourpapers," both groaned simultaneously, as much as to say, "A second ortwo more would have done it."

  The examination was over, but the event of that memorable day was stillto take place.

  Five minutes later Oliver, who had retired alone, as usual, to hisstudy, there to announce to the anxious Stephen how he had fared in theexamination, caught the sudden sound of an old familiar footstep outsidehis door, which sent the blood to his cheeks with strange emotion.Stephen heard it, and knew it too.

  "There's that beast Wraysford," he said, at the very instant thatWraysford, not waiting to knock, flung open the door and entered.

  There was no need for him to announce his errand. It was written on hisface as he advanced with outstretched hand to his old friend.

  "Noll, old man," was all he could say, as their eyes met, "theyoungster's right--I _am_ a beast!"

  At the first word--the first friendly word spoken to him for months--Oliver started to his feet like one electrified; and before the sentencewas over his hand was tightly grasping the hand of his friend, andStephen had disappeared from the scene. It is no business of ours topry into that happy study for the next quarter of an hour. If we didthe reader would very likely be disappointed, or perhaps wearied, orperhaps convinced that these two were as great fools in the manner oftheir making up as they had been in the manner of their falling out.

  Oh! the happiness of that precious quarter of an hour, when the veilthat has divided two faithful friends is suddenly dashed aside, and theyrush one to the other, calling themselves every imaginable bad name inthe dictionary, insisting to the verge of quarrelling that it was alltheir fault, and no fault at all of the other, far too rapturous to talkordinary common sense, and far too forgetful of everything to rememberthat they are saying the same thing over and over again every fewminutes.

  "The falling out of faithful friends"--as the old copybooks say inelegant Virgilian Latin--"renewing is of love." And so it was withOliver and Wraysford.

  Why, they were twice the friends they were before! Twice! Fifty times!And they laughed and talked and made fools of themselves for a wholehalf-hour over the discovery, and might have done so for an hour, hadnot Stephen, who had patiently remained outside for a reasonable time,now returned to join in the celebration.

  "Stee, you young beggar," said Wraysford, as the boy entered, "if youdon't have my tea piping hot to-night, and fresh herrings for three doneto a regular turn, I'll flay you alive, my boy. And now, if you'regood, you may come and kick me!"

  Stephen, overflowing with joy, and quite rickety with emotion, flew athis old friend, and, instead of kicking him, caught hold of his arm, andturning to his brother, cried, "Oh, Noll! _isn't_ this prime? Why,here's old Wray--"

  "That beast Wraysford," suggested the owner of the title; "do give afellow his proper name, young 'un."

  This little interruption put Stephen off his speech; and the three,locking the study-door, settled down to talk rationally, or, at anyrate, as rationally as they could, over affairs.

  "You see," said Wraysford, "I can't imagine now what possessed me tomake such a fool of myself."

  "Now you needn't begin at that again," said Oliver. "If I hadn't cut upso at that jackass Simon, when he began about my being in the Doctor'sstudy that evening, it would never have happened."

  "Bah! any one might have known the fellow was telling lies."

  "But he wasn't telling lies," said Oliver. "I _was_ in the Doctor'sstudy all alone that evening, and at the very time the paper went too.That's just the queer thing about it."

  "You were?" exclaimed both the boys, for this was news even to Stephen.

  "Yes, of course I was. Don't you know I went to see him about Stephen,and that row he had up at the Lock?"

  "Oh, yes," said Stephen, "I remember. I was in a regular blue funk thatevening."

  "Well, the Doctor wasn't there. I hung about a few minutes for him, andthen, as he didn't turn up, I left, and met that old booby just as I wascoming out of the door."

  "And he's gone and told everybody he saw you coming out with the paperin your pocket."

  Oliver laughed loud at this.

  "Upon my word, the fellow must have sharp eyes if he could do that!Well, I was so disgusted when he came up after the examination, andbegan to insinuate that I knew all about the missing paper, that--Well,you know how I distinguished myself."

  "It would have served him right if you'd throttled him," observedWraysford. "But I say, Noll," added he more gravely, "why on earth, oldman, didn't
you say all this then? What a lot of unpleasantness itwould have saved."

  "What!" exclaimed Oliver, suddenly firing up, "do you suppose, when thefellows all chose to believe that miserable idiot's story, I was goingto stir a finger or bother myself a snap about what they thought? Bah!I'm not angry now, Wray; but, upon my word, when I think of that time--"

  "What a pack of curs we all were," said Wraysford, almost as angry ashis friend.

  "Hear, hear!" put in Stephen, an observation which had the effect ofmaking the whole thing ridiculous and so restoring both the friends totheir composure.

  "But, Noll, I say, old man," said Wraysford, presently, "of course youdidn't intend it, but if you meant to make every one believe you did it,you couldn't have gone on better than you did. I'm certain not half thefellows would have believed Simon if you hadn't--"

  "Made such an ass of myself," said Oliver, laughing. "Of course I cansee now how it would all work in beautifully against me, and I'm certainI've myself to thank for the whole business."

  "Now, don't say that. Nothing can excuse the way all of us treated you,poor old boy. But, thank goodness, it's all right now. I'll let themknow--"

  "Now, Wray, that's just what I won't have you do. You must not say aword to them about it, or, seriously, I'll be in a great rage. If theycan't think well of me of their own accord, I won't have them do it foranybody else's, so there."

  "But, Noll, old man--"

  "Upon my word, Wray, I mean what I say. Not a word to anybody."

  "Do you mean to say you intend to live at Coventry all your life?"

  "It's not Coventry now, is it, Stee, old boy?" said Oliver, with abright smile. "And now, Wray," said he, "I want to know how you got onin the exam to-day. You were going ahead furiously, it seemed to me."

  "Yes, but wasn't doing much good, I'm afraid. How have you done?"

  "Pretty well; but I hadn't time to touch the last question."

  "I knew, as soon as I saw you were entered for the exam," saidWraysford, "we had all been taking you up wrong. I can guess now whyyou went in for it."

  "Well, it struck me it might be a way of putting myself right with thefellows if I won; but I'm half afraid I won't win, and then theirhighnesses will be doubly sure of my villainy!"

  "I know you will win," said Wraysford.

  "If I do I shall feel an awful blackguard, for you would have beencertain of it."

  "I'm not so very sure. However, I think I could have beaten Loman."

  "He seemed out of it, quite. Do you know I think that fellow is goingto the dogs altogether?"

  "Pity," said Wraysford, "if he is, but it does look like it."