Acton's Feud: A Public School Story
Page 9
CHAPTER IX
THE END OF TERM
The two worthies, Grim and Wilson, after seeing Acton, began to get outtheir programme. Here it is:--
BIFFEN'S JUNIORS' CONCERT.
_Cock House, December, 1898._
(1) Epilogue. B.A.M. CHERRY.
(2) Poem on the subject of Cock House. B. SHARPE.
(3) Bar Act.
(4) First Round Junior Boxing Competition. PRINCE RUNJIT MEHTAH and RAM SINGH.
(5) SONG. "My First Cigar." R.E. THURSTON.
(6) PIANOFORTE SOLO. "Oh! listen to the band." O. BROWN.
(7) Second Round Boxing.
(8) SONG. "Jim." J. ACTON, ESQ.
(9) Third and Concluding Rounds Boxing.
(10) SONG. "Well, suppose you did?" R.E. THURSTON.
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.
ACCOMPANIST O.E. BROWN. _Trinity College (by Examination)._
STAGE MANAGER W.E. GRIM.
N.B.--The Manager begs to state that there will be no Latin or classical allusions throughout the evening. No waits. No charge for programmes. No antediluvian jokes.
This was printed on paper blushing pink--Biffen's colours--and Grim andWilson, when they got the advance proof last thing on Saturday night,almost embraced in their jubilation. There was such a swagger look aboutthe "N.B."
Meanwhile B.A.M. Cherry had consulted his dictionary, and therein foundthat an "epilogue" was defined as "a concluding speech in an oration orplay." He broke into a cold sweat of horror. That was an epilogue, then!Where could he find one? What would be the good of one if he did find it?And supposing he had one and could recite it, it was at the wrong end ofthe programme--the programme which had already been printed in such hothaste? It was too late to tell Grim, who would have instantly summoned allthe strength of Biffen's to scrag him. The wretched Cherry shuddered athis awful plight.
Nothing could he do or dare he do. In desperation he determined to fallill on the concert night. B.A.M. Cherry hadn't the heroic soul, and whenGrim asked him cheerfully how the epilogue was going on, he said"spiffing," in the tone of a martyr at the stake.
On the Monday Grim scuttled about all day--now on the stage, listening toThurston going over his songs with Brown, now getting entries for hisboxing competition, now encouraging Sharpe, who was in the throes ofcomposition, and now criticizing the Dervishes with much force. Acton putin an appearance in the concert-room, and gave Brown the accompaniment to"Jim;" and, after hearing him play it through, went and read his novel therest of his spare time.
At 7.30 the juniors of St. Amory's began to stroll in, Biffen's lotcollaring the front seats as per custom. The programmes were distributedto each one as he came in, and created no end of sensation, and W.E. Grimwas allowed to have come out very strong in the programme line. St.Amory's fags did not spot anything wrong about item one, but the olderfellows chuckled a little and said "the manager was a funny ass." Thisopinion was instantly conveyed to Grim by one of his cronies, and madethat young gentleman think himself no end of a sly dog.
Punctually to the minute Grim rang his bell, and, darting into thedressing-room, said, "Now, Cherry, come along with your epilogue, They'reall waiting. Where is that ass?"
"Cherry has not turned up yet, Grim."
"What?" he said in horror.
"Not turned up yet!"
"I'll go and fetch the beggar at once."
Grim darted out of the room, tore along the street, and was hammering atCherry's door within the minute.
"Fruity, hurry up, they're all waiting."
"I'm not well, Grim."
"What?"
"I'm not well--I'm in bed."
"You miserable beast!" shouted Grim. "I'll massacre you. You'll make usthe laughing stock of the whole school. Get up, man, Be a man."
"I'm ill," moaned Cherry from within.
"You miserable beast! You'll be dead to-morrow." He shook the doorviolently, but Cherry was not quite the utter fool Grim took him for, forhe had locked the door. Grim stood outside on the corridor for someseconds, petrified with rage and disgust, and then flew like a madman backto the concert-room. He cannoned up against some one leisurely strollingup to the dressing-room, and was darting on again _sans_ apology. Ahand gently closed upon his collar and pulled him back.
"Hallo, young shaver! Little boys used to apologize when they--Why,it's Grim! What in the name----"
Grim, almost blubbing with anger and shame, poured out his tale, and Actonlistened with an amused smile. "Sheer funk, Grim. Well, go on, and tell'em their Cherry has rotted, but that I'll come and tell 'em a little taleinstead."
Grim would have embraced Acton if he'd been a little taller, but hegurgled, "Acton, you _are_ a brick," and darted on to the stage.
He was received with deafening cheers, and shrieks of "No waits!""Manager!" "Don't hurry, Grim!" "We'll send out for supper!" "We wantCherry!" "Go off," etc.
When Grim could get a word in he panted, "Gentlemen, I am sorry to sayB.A.M. Cherry is indisposed and cannot favour you with the epilogue."
"Funked it!" roared all the delighted juniors.
"He says he is unwell," said Grim, anger getting the better of him, "buthe'll be a jolly sight worse in the morning."
There was a hurricane of thunderous cheers at this sally, but Grim managedto shout above the laughing, "I have great pleasure in announcing thatJohn Acton, Esq., will take Fruity's--I mean Cherry's--place and tell youa little tale; even Corker fags will understand it," added Grim,viciously.
Acton came on and received his hearty welcome with easy good nature. Heplunged right into his contribution: "A London cabby's account of hisdifferent fares"--from the double-superfine gilt-edged individual to thefat old dowager who _will_ have the parrot inside with her. Actongave it perfectly. Grim, who had his ears glued to the exit door, vowed hecould almost hear the swell drop his eyeglass.
Sharpe stepped on to the stage amid the polite attentions of his naturalenemies. "Be a man, Sharpe." "Don't cry." "You'll see mamma soon." "Speakup." "He did it all alone, remember." "No help." "Oh, dear no!"
"When on the bosom of the sleeping pool, That's shaded o'er by trees in greenest dress, Upon its breast of snow its gem of gold The water lily swims--"
The juniors howled with dismay at this commencement, and Corker juniorsinstantly began to keep time to Sharpe's delivery in the organ-grinder'sfashion. But Sharpe toiled remorselessly on. He compared Biffen's house toa water lily growing in a muddy pond, and again as a Phoenix risen fromthe ashes; and he gave us, with circumstantial details, every round of thefooter housers, their two eleven caps, and the Perry Exhibition, anddarkly hinted at Acton's exclusion from the eleven.
He wound up his awful farrago in one glorious burst of solemn fury--
"And even Fate girds on her sword, and her right arm she stiffens, As thunders to the icy pole the glorious name of Biffen's."
When Sharpe finally made his bow, according to the invariable custom,every junior except a Biffenite imitated with rare fidelity the mixedsensations of channel passengers after a stormy passage.
Sharpe, cheered to the echo by the Biffenites on the front row, wentproudly off.
The Dervishes were received with enthusiasm, and went through theirperformance to the shouts of "Well wriggled, Java!" "Why don't you oil!""Do it again--orang-outang!" They amiably smiled acknowledgments as theybacked away.
Then I myself stepped on to the stage, prepared to judge the two-minutes'rounds. Grim had whipped up sixteen fags, each willing to do battle forthe honour of his house. The rounds proceeded to the accompaniment ofear-splitting encouragement, and I had the satisfaction of knowing thatnot a solitary one of the defeated heroes thought he had really beenbeaten on points.
No mistake about it, Biffen's had a fag who could sing. Thurston's "MyFirst Cigar" only lacked one thing--it s
hould have lasted a little longerto suit the audience.
"She called it an Intimidad, It had spots of a yellowish hue, She said the best brands always had, And I firmly believed it was true."
A good number of the fellows knew "The Soldiers in the Park," and Brownhammered it out in a good old breezy style.
As he was racing home, and the jolly chorus was crashing out from thepiano, one fag started "Oh, listen to the band!"
Instantly the whole school, juniors and seniors as well, joined in thechorus, keeping time with their feet.
"Oh, listen to the band! Who doesn't love to hark To the shout of 'Here they come' And the banging of the drum-- Oh, listen to the soldiers in the park."
When the dust had settled, every one acknowledged that Biffen's concertwas going with a bang. I am not going to bore you with a longer account ofBiffen's concert. Thurston sang "Alice, where art thou?" the fellowstelling him between the verses that "She wasn't going to come," "Spoonysongs barred," etc., and Rogers carried off the fags' boxing competitionwith a big rush in the final round, and Biffen's crew howled with delight.
Finally the bell rang for Acton's song. Brown rattled through thepreliminary bars, and the song commenced. The singer held himself slightlyforward, in a rather stiff and awkward fashion, and his eyes were staringintently into vacancy. There was not the shadow of a shade of anyexpression in his face. A feeling of pity for Acton was the universalsensation when the first words fell from his lips. Acton had not the ghostof a singing voice, and the school shuddered at the awful exhibition.There was an icy silence, but Acton croaked remorselessly on. This is thesong:--
"Jim and I as children played together, Best of chums for many years were we; I had no luck--was, alas! a Jonah; Jim, my chum, was lucky as could be. Oh, lucky Jim! How I envied him!
"Years rolled by, and death took Jim away, boys, Left his widow, and she married me; Now we're married oft I think of Jim, boys, Sleeping in that churchyard by the sea. Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!"
As the words followed on there was a suggestion of oddity in that awfulvoice singing a comic song, and there were a few suppressed laughs at theidea. As the song progressed, the utter dreary weariness of the voice, andthe rather funny words, compelled the fellows to laugh in uncontrollablebursts; but still Acton never turned a hair. When he arrived at thechurchyard lines there was one universal howl of delight. Brown stoppeddead at the end of the second last line, and Acton stopped dead too.Instantly all the fellows became as mute as fish. The singer straightenedhimself up, looked round the room with a mocking smile while one mightcount a dozen, and then winked to Brown, who recommenced softly on thepiano. Then Acton _sang_ slowly and deliberately--sang with a voiceas clear and as tunable as a silver bell--
"Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy him!"
His croak was a pretence--he had hoaxed us all! Before we recovered fromour stupefaction he had vanished. The school clamoured for his return,but though they cheered for three minutes on end Acton did not reappear,and Brown struck up "God save the Queen!" Biffen's concert was at an end!
Grim held a five minutes' meeting among the Biffenites before bed.
"There's never been a fellow like Acton in St. Amory's. He goes away atnine to-morrow. The Great Midland are going to stop their express to pickup St. Amory fellows, and Acton goes up to his place by that. I vote weall go in a body to the station and cheer him off. We keep it dark, ofcourse." This _staccato_ oration was agreed to with acclamation, andBiffenites went to bed happy.
On the morrow Acton strolled into the station and espied the Biffenites,who were scattered up and down the platform with careful carelessness.The train came in, and at once the juniors crowded _en masse_ roundthe carriage in which Acton had secured a corner seat, and stood talkingto Grim, who was in fine feather.
At that very moment Phil Bourne and young Jack Bourne bustled into thestation. An idea struck Rogers, and he said to all his chums, "Here'sBourne, you fellows; let him know we see him."
The fags were delighted, and when Bourne entered the carriage nextActon's there was a long-drawn-out hoot for his especial benefit.
"Another," said Rogers, whereat more soulful groans.
"The last," said Rogers, and Bourne took his seat to a chorus of hissesand tortured howls. He smiled a little and opened his paper, while thepeople in the carriage looked curiously at him.
The guard's whistle went and Acton sprang in. "Good-bye."
As the train moved, Grim said, "Three cheers for Acton!"
"Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
"A groan for Bourne!" Acton smiled good naturedly to his henchmen. As heglided past he said to himself softly, "And yet I have not quite hoed allmy row out either, Bourne. Wait, my friend, wait!"
AS THE TRAIN MOVED, GRIM SAID, "THREE CHEERS!"]