Mike
Page 24
CHAPTER XXIII
A SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY
"You may not know it," said Wyatt to Mike in the dormitory that night,"but this is the maddest, merriest day of all the glad New Year."
Mike could not help thinking that for himself it was the very reverse,but he did not state his view of the case.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Neville-Smith's giving a meal at his place in honour of his gettinghis first. I understand the preparations are on a scale of the utmostmagnificence. No expense has been spared. Ginger-beer will flow likewater. The oldest cask of lemonade has been broached; and a sardine isroasting whole in the market-place."
"Are you going?"
"If I can tear myself away from your delightful society. The kick-offis fixed for eleven sharp. I am to stand underneath his window andheave bricks till something happens. I don't know if he keeps a dog.If so, I shall probably get bitten to the bone."
"When are you going to start?"
"About five minutes after Wain has been round the dormitories to seethat all's well. That ought to be somewhere about half-past ten."
"Don't go getting caught."
"I shall do my little best not to be. Rather tricky work, though,getting back. I've got to climb two garden walls, and I shall probablybe so full of Malvoisie that you'll be able to hear it swishing aboutinside me. No catch steeple-chasing if you're like that. They've nothought for people's convenience here. Now at Bradford they've gotstudies on the ground floor, the windows looking out over theboundless prairie. No climbing or steeple-chasing needed at all. Allyou have to do is to open the window and step out. Still, we must makethe best of things. Push us over a pinch of that tooth-powder ofyours. I've used all mine."
Wyatt very seldom penetrated further than his own garden on theoccasions when he roamed abroad at night. For cat-shooting the Wainspinneys were unsurpassed. There was one particular dustbin where onemight be certain of flushing a covey any night; and the wall by thepotting-shed was a feline club-house.
But when he did wish to get out into the open country he had a specialroute which he always took. He climbed down from the wall that ranbeneath the dormitory window into the garden belonging to Mr. Appleby,the master who had the house next to Mr. Wain's. Crossing this, heclimbed another wall, and dropped from it into a small lane whichended in the main road leading to Wrykyn town.
This was the route which he took to-night. It was a glorious Julynight, and the scent of the flowers came to him with a curiousdistinctness as he let himself down from the dormitory window. At anyother time he might have made a lengthy halt, and enjoyed the scentsand small summer noises, but now he felt that it would be better notto delay. There was a full moon, and where he stood he could be seendistinctly from the windows of both houses. They were all dark, it istrue, but on these occasions it was best to take no risks.
He dropped cautiously into Appleby's garden, ran lightly across it,and was in the lane within a minute.
There he paused, dusted his trousers, which had suffered on thetwo walls, and strolled meditatively in the direction of the town.Half-past ten had just chimed from the school clock. He was in plentyof time.
"What a night!" he said to himself, sniffing as he walked.
* * * * *
Now it happened that he was not alone in admiring the beauty of thatparticular night. At ten-fifteen it had struck Mr. Appleby, lookingout of his study into the moonlit school grounds, that a pipe in theopen would make an excellent break in his night's work. He hadacquired a slight headache as the result of correcting a batch ofexamination papers, and he thought that an interval of an hour in theopen air before approaching the half-dozen or so papers which stillremained to be looked at might do him good. The window of his studywas open, but the room had got hot and stuffy. Nothing like a littlefresh air for putting him right.
For a few moments he debated the rival claims of a stroll in thecricket-field and a seat in the garden. Then he decided on the latter.The little gate in the railings opposite his house might not beopen, and it was a long way round to the main entrance. So he took adeck-chair which leaned against the wall, and let himself out of theback door.
He took up his position in the shadow of a fir-tree with his back tothe house. From here he could see the long garden. He was fond of hisgarden, and spent what few moments he could spare from work and gamespottering about it. He had his views as to what the ideal gardenshould be, and he hoped in time to tinker his own three acres up tothe desired standard. At present there remained much to be done. Whynot, for instance, take away those laurels at the end of the lawn, andhave a flower-bed there instead? Laurels lasted all the year round,true, whereas flowers died and left an empty brown bed in the winter,but then laurels were nothing much to look at at any time, and agarden always had a beastly appearance in winter, whatever you did toit. Much better have flowers, and get a decent show for one's money insummer at any rate.
The problem of the bed at the end of the lawn occupied his completeattention for more than a quarter of an hour, at the end of whichperiod he discovered that his pipe had gone out.
He was just feeling for his matches to relight it when Wyatt droppedwith a slight thud into his favourite herbaceous border.
The surprise, and the agony of feeling that large boots were tramplingamong his treasures kept him transfixed for just the length of timenecessary for Wyatt to cross the garden and climb the opposite wall.As he dropped into the lane, Mr. Appleby recovered himselfsufficiently to emit a sort of strangled croak, but the sound was tooslight to reach Wyatt. That reveller was walking down the Wrykyn roadbefore Mr. Appleby had left his chair.
It is an interesting point that it was the gardener rather than theschoolmaster in Mr. Appleby that first awoke to action. It was not theidea of a boy breaking out of his house at night that occurred to himfirst as particularly heinous; it was the fact that the boy had brokenout _via_ his herbaceous border. In four strides he was on thescene of the outrage, examining, on hands and knees, with the aid ofthe moonlight, the extent of the damage done.
As far as he could see, it was not serious. By a happy accidentWyatt's boots had gone home to right and left of precious plants butnot on them. With a sigh of relief Mr. Appleby smoothed over thecavities, and rose to his feet.
At this point it began to strike him that the episode affected him asa schoolmaster also.
In that startled moment when Wyatt had suddenly crossed his line ofvision, he had recognised him. The moon had shone full on his face ashe left the flowerbed. There was no doubt in his mind as to theidentity of the intruder.
He paused, wondering how he should act. It was not an easy question.There was nothing of the spy about Mr. Appleby. He went his wayopenly, liked and respected by boys and masters. He always played thegame. The difficulty here was to say exactly what the game was.Sentiment, of course, bade him forget the episode, treat it as if ithad never happened. That was the simple way out of the difficulty.There was nothing unsporting about Mr. Appleby. He knew that therewere times when a master might, without blame, close his eyes or lookthe other way. If he had met Wyatt out of bounds in the day-time, andit had been possible to convey the impression that he had not seenhim, he would have done so. To be out of bounds is not a particularlydeadly sin. A master must check it if it occurs too frequently, but hemay use his discretion.
Breaking out at night, however, was a different thing altogether. Itwas on another plane. There are times when a master must waivesentiment, and remember that he is in a position of trust, and owes aduty directly to his headmaster, and indirectly, through theheadmaster, to the parents. He receives a salary for doing this duty,and, if he feels that sentiment is too strong for him, he shouldresign in favour of some one of tougher fibre.
This was the conclusion to which Mr. Appleby came over his relightedpipe. He could not let the matter rest where it was.
In ordinary circumstances it would have been his duty to report theaffair to the headmaster
but in the present case he thought that aslightly different course might be pursued. He would lay the wholething before Mr. Wain, and leave him to deal with it as he thoughtbest. It was one of the few cases where it was possible for anassistant master to fulfil his duty to a parent directly, instead ofthrough the agency of the headmaster.
* * * * *
Knocking out the ashes of his pipe against a tree, he folded hisdeck-chair and went into the house. The examination papers werespread invitingly on the table, but they would have to wait. Heturned down his lamp, and walked round to Wain's.
There was a light in one of the ground-floor windows. He tapped on thewindow, and the sound of a chair being pushed back told him that hehad been heard. The blind shot up, and he had a view of a roomlittered with books and papers, in the middle of which stood Mr. Wain,like a sea-beast among rocks.
Mr. Wain recognised his visitor and opened the window. Mr. Applebycould not help feeling how like Wain it was to work on a warm summer'snight in a hermetically sealed room. There was always something queerand eccentric about Wyatt's step-father.
"Can I have a word with you, Wain?" he said.
"Appleby! Is there anything the matter? I was startled when youtapped. Exceedingly so."
"Sorry," said Mr. Appleby. "Wouldn't have disturbed you, only it'ssomething important. I'll climb in through here, shall I? No need tounlock the door." And, greatly to Mr. Wain's surprise and rather tohis disapproval, Mr. Appleby vaulted on to the window-sill, andsqueezed through into the room.