2. Mike Hears Bad News
It seemed to Mike, when he got home, that there was a touch of gloom inthe air. His sisters were as glad to see him as ever. There was a gooddeal of rejoicing going on among the female Jacksons because Joe hadscored his first double century in first-class cricket. Doublecenturies are too common, nowadays, for the papers to take much noticeof them; but, still, it is not everybody who can make them, and theoccasion was one to be marked. Mike had read the news in the eveningpaper in the train, and had sent his brother a wire from the station,congratulating him. He had wondered whether he himself would everachieve the feat in first-class cricket. He did not see why he shouldnot. He looked forward through a long vista of years of county cricket.He had a birth qualification for the county in which Mr Smith hadsettled, and he had played for it once already at the beginning of theholidays. His _debut_ had not been sensational, but it had beenpromising. The fact that two members of the team had made centuries,and a third seventy odd, had rather eclipsed his own twenty-nine notout; but it had been a faultless innings, and nearly all the papers hadsaid that here was yet another Jackson, evidently well up to the familystandard, who was bound to do big things in the future.
The touch of gloom was contributed by his brother Bob to a certainextent, and by his father more noticeably. Bob looked slightlythoughtful. Mr Jackson seemed thoroughly worried.
Mike approached Bob on the subject in the billiard-room after dinner.Bob was practising cannons in rather a listless way.
'What's up, Bob?' asked Mike.
Bob laid down his cue.
'I'm hanged if I know,' said Bob. 'Something seems to be. Father'sworried about something.'
'He looked as if he'd got the hump rather at dinner.'
'I only got here this afternoon, about three hours before you did. Ihad a bit of a talk with him before dinner. I can't make out what's up.He seemed awfully keen on my finding something to do now I've come downfrom Oxford. Wanted to know whether I couldn't get a tutoring job or amastership at some school next term. I said I'd have a shot. I don'tsee what all the hurry's about, though. I was hoping he'd give me a bitof travelling on the Continent somewhere before I started in.'
'Rough luck,' said Mike. 'I wonder why it is. Jolly good about Joe,wasn't it? Let's have fifty up, shall we?'
Bob's remarks had given Mike no hint of impending disaster. It seemedstrange, of course, that his father, who had always been so easy-going,should have developed a hustling Get On or Get Out spirit, and beurging Bob to Do It Now; but it never occurred to him that there couldbe any serious reason for it. After all, fellows had to start workingsome time or other. Probably his father had merely pointed this out toBob, and Bob had made too much of it.
Half-way through the game Mr Jackson entered the room, and stoodwatching in silence.
'Want a game, father?' asked Mike.
'No, thanks, Mike. What is it? A hundred up?'
'Fifty.'
'Oh, then you'll be finished in a moment. When you are, I wish you'djust look into the study for a moment, Mike. I want to have a talk withyou.'
'Rum,' said Mike, as the door closed. 'I wonder what's up?'
For a wonder his conscience was free. It was not as if a bad school-reportmight have arrived in his absence. His Sedleigh report had come atthe beginning of the holidays, and had been, on the whole, fairlydecent--nothing startling either way. Mr Downing, perhaps throughremorse at having harried Mike to such an extent during the Sammyepisode, had exercised a studied moderation in his remarks. He had letMike down far more easily than he really deserved. So it could not be areport that was worrying Mr Jackson. And there was nothing else on hisconscience.
Bob made a break of sixteen, and ran out. Mike replaced his cue, andwalked to the study.
His father was sitting at the table. Except for the very important factthat this time he felt that he could plead Not Guilty on every possiblecharge, Mike was struck by the resemblance in the general arrangementof the scene to that painful ten minutes at the end of the previousholidays, when his father had announced his intention of taking himaway from Wrykyn and sending him to Sedleigh. The resemblance wasincreased by the fact that, as Mike entered, Mr Jackson was kicking atthe waste-paper basket--a thing which with him was an infallible signof mental unrest.
'Sit down, Mike,' said Mr Jackson. 'How did you get on during theweek?'
'Topping. Only once out under double figures. And then I was run out.Got a century against the Green Jackets, seventy-one against theIncogs, and today I made ninety-eight on a beast of a wicket, and onlygot out because some silly goat of a chap--'
He broke off. Mr Jackson did not seem to be attending. There was asilence. Then Mr Jackson spoke with an obvious effort.
'Look here, Mike, we've always understood one another, haven't we?'
'Of course we have.'
'You know I wouldn't do anything to prevent you having a good time, ifI could help it. I took you away from Wrykyn, I know, but that was aspecial case. It was necessary. But I understand perfectly how keen youare to go to Cambridge, and I wouldn't stand in the way for a minute,if I could help it.'
Mike looked at him blankly. This could only mean one thing. He was notto go to the 'Varsity. But why? What had happened? When he had left forthe Smith's cricket week, his name had been down for King's, and thewhole thing settled. What could have happened since then?
'But I can't help it,' continued Mr Jackson.
'Aren't I going up to Cambridge, father?' stammered Mike.
'I'm afraid not, Mike. I'd manage it if I possibly could. I'm just asanxious to see you get your Blue as you are to get it. But it's kinderto be quite frank. I can't afford to send you to Cambridge. I won't gointo details which you would not understand; but I've lost a very largesum of money since I saw you last. So large that we shall have toeconomize in every way. I shall let this house and take a much smallerone. And you and Bob, I'm afraid, will have to start earning yourliving. I know it's a terrible disappointment to you, old chap.'
'Oh, that's all right,' said Mike thickly. There seemed to be somethingsticking in his throat, preventing him from speaking.
'If there was any possible way--'
'No, it's all right, father, really. I don't mind a bit. It's awfullyrough luck on you losing all that.'
There was another silence. The clock ticked away energetically on themantelpiece, as if glad to make itself heard at last. Outside, aplaintive snuffle made itself heard. John, the bull-dog, Mike'sinseparable companion, who had followed him to the study, was gettingtired of waiting on the mat. Mike got up and opened the door. Johnlumbered in.
The movement broke the tension.
'Thanks, Mike,' said Mr Jackson, as Mike started to leave the room,'you're a sportsman.'
Psmith in the City Page 2
