by Ian Hay
Produced by Al Haines.
Cover]
"LET ME GIVE YOU ONE HINT, MY LAD" (p. 48)]
HAPPY-GO-LUCKY
BY
IAN HAY
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY C. E. BROCK
BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY IAN HAY BEITH ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_Published August, 1913_
TO T. S. A. B.
CONTENTS
_BOOK ONE_
YOUTHFUL EXCURSIONS
I. A Brief Introduction II. The First Freak III. Io Saturnalia!
_BOOK TWO_
A BLIND ALLEY
IV. Travels with a First Reserve V. Very Odious VI. Forbidden Fruit--A Digression VII. Unearned Increment VIII. A Relapse IX. The Only Way Out X. Still at Large XI. The First Turning to the Right
_BOOK THREE_
THE RIGHT ROAD
XII. Mice and Men XIII. Lucidity Itself XIV. Another Cosy Chat, with an Interruption XV. A Day of Calm Reflection XVI. An Impossible Family XVII. The Word "Swank" XVIII. De L'Audace, et encore de l'Audace, et toujours de l'Audace! XIX. Sidelights on a Public Character XX. Rehearsed Effects XXI. Unrehearsed XXII. The Real Tilly XXIII. The Real Mr. Welwyn XXIV. A Garden Plot in Russell Square XXV. Purely Commercial XXVI. The Final Freak
ILLUSTRATIONS
"Let me give you one Hint, my Lad" (p. 48) . . . _Frontispiece_
"Chorus once more, please, Gentlemen!"
"How do you do, Miss Weller?" said Lady Adela, mystified but well-bred
"Reflect!" urged the Broker's Man, gently resisting Percy's Efforts toeject him
"This is very naughty," he announced reproachfully
HAPPY-GO-LUCKY
BOOK ONE
YOUTHFUL EXCURSIONS
HAPPY-GO-LUCKY
CHAPTER I
A BRIEF INTRODUCTION
They--that is, the London-and-the-south-thereof contingent of the HiviteHouse at Grandwich--always celebrated the first morning of the holidaysby breakfasting together at the Imperial Hotel at Oakleigh, as apreliminary to catching the nine-fifty-two.
A certain stateliness--not to say pomp--distinguished the function.Negotiations for the provision of the feast were opened at an earlydate--usually about half-term--the first step taking the form of adignified but ungrammatical communication, cast in that most intricateand treacherous of moulds, the third person, to the proprietor of thehotel, intimating, after compliments, that _Mr. Rumbold_ (_major_),_Hivite House, Grandwich School, would be much obliged if our partycould be supplied with breakfast, and you usually do it for half-a-crownas there are a lot of us, and if you don't we shall probably go to theGeorge, and as the party wishes to catch the train Mr. Rumbold would beobliged if you can give it to me punctually_.
To this mine host would reply with a most gratifying typewrittendocument addressed to--_Rumbold, Esq._,--a form of address which neverfails to please so long as your parents and other adult correspondentspersist in designating you "Master,"--expressing the utmost willingnessto provide breakfast for Mr. Rumbold's party at two-and-sixpence perhead (which, by the way, was the normal charge), and concluding with atactfully-worded request for information (inadvertently omitted from Mr.Rumbold's original communication) upon the following points:--
(1) The date of the feast.
(2) The number of young gentlemen likely to be present.
(3) The hour of the train which they propose to catch.
During the second half-term Mr. Rumbold's leisure would be pleasantlyoccupied in recruiting the breakfast-party and communicating its numbersand requirements, intermittently and piecemeal, together with searchingenquiries re kidneys and ultimatums on the subject of scrambled eggs, tothe rapidly ageing proprietor of the Imperial Hotel.
On the joyous morning of departure a dozen emancipated Helots, allglorious in bowler hats and coloured ties which atoned at a bound forthirteen weeks of statutory headgear and _subfusc._ haberdashery,descended upon the Imperial Hotel and sat down with intense butbusinesslike cheerfulness to the half-crown breakfast. On theseoccasions distinctions of caste were disregarded. Fag and prefect satside by side. Brothers who had religiously cut one another throughoutthe term were reunited, even indulging in Christian names. Gentlemenwho had fought to a finish behind the fives-court every alternateWednesday afternoon since term began, took sweet counsel together uponthe respective merits of Egyptian and Turkish cigarettes.
On the particular occasion with which we are concerned--a crisp morningin December--the party numbered twelve. It is not necessary to describethem in detail, for ten of them make their appearance, in thisnarrative, at any rate, for the first and last time. Let it suffice tosay that Mr. Rumbold major sat at the head of the table and Mr. Rumboldminor at the foot, Mr. Rumbold tertius occupying a position abouthalfway down. Among others present might have been noticed (as thelittle society papers say) Mr. "Balmy" Coke, Mr. "Oaf" Sandiford, Mr."Buggy" Reid, Mr. "Slimy" Green, Mr. "Lummy" Law, and Mr. "Adenoid"Smith. More notable figures were Messrs. "Spangle" Jerningham and "Tiny"Carmyle--lesser luminaries than Rumbold himself, but shining lights inthe athletic firmament for all that.
One place only was vacant. The company, in accordance with what isprobably the most rigorous social code in existence--schoolboyetiquette--had divided itself into two groups. The first, consisting ofthose whose right to a place at the head of the table was unquestioned,settled down at once with loud and confident anticipations of enjoyment.The remainder followed their example with more diffidence, beginning atthe foot of the table and extending coyly upwards, those whose claim toa place above the salt was beginning to be more than considerablepunctiliously taking the lowest places in order to escape the dreadstigma of "side." Thus, by reason of the forces of mutual repulsion, agap occurred in the very middle of the table, between a nervous littleboy in spectacles, one Buggy Reid, and the magnificent Mr. Jerningham,Secretary of the Fifteen and the best racquets-player in the school.
"One short!" announced Rumbold. "Who is it?"
There was a general counting of heads. Mr. Reid timidly offeredinformation.
"I think it is The Freak," he said.
There was a general laugh.
"Wonder what he's up to now," mused Mr. Jerningham. "You ought to know,Rummy. Your fag, is n't he?"
"I gave him the bag two terms ago," replied the great man contentedly."Tiny has him now."
He turned to another of the seniors--a long-legged youth with a subduedmanner.
"Still got him, Tiny?"
"Yes," said Mr. Carmyle gloomily, "I have still got him. It's a hardlife, though."
"I know," said Rumbold sympathetically. "Does he cross-question youabout the photographs on your mantelpiece?"
"Yes," said Carmyle. "He spoke very favourably of my youngest sister.Showed me a photograph of his own, and asked me to come and stay withthem in the holidays. Said he thought I would have much in common withhis father."
There was general merrime
nt at this, for Mr. Carmyle was patriarchal,both in appearance and habits. But it did nothing to soothe the nervesof The Freak himself, who happened at the moment to be standing shylyupon one leg outside the door, endeavouring to summon up sufficientcourage to walk in.
He was a small sandy-haired boy with shrewd blue eyes and a mostdisarming smile, and he belonged to a not uncommon and distinctlyunlucky class. There are boys who are shy and who look shy. Such areusually left to themselves, and gradually attain to confidence. Thereare boys who are bumptious and behave bumptiously. Such are usually putthrough a brief disciplinary course by their friends, and ultimatelyachieve respectability. And there are boys who are shy, but who,through sheer self-consciousness and a desire to conceal their shyness,behave bumptiously. The way of such is hard. Public Schooldisciplinary methods do not discriminate between the sheep and thegoats. Variations from the normal, whether voluntary or involuntary, areall corrected by the same methods. Unconventionality of every kind isrebuked by stern moralists who have been through the mill themselves,and are convinced that it would be ungenerous to deprive the succeedinggeneration of the benefits which have produced such brilliant results intheir own case.
The Freak--Master Richard Mainwaring--entered the school-world unfairlyhandicapped. He had never been from home before. He was an only son,and had had few companions but his parents. Consequently he wasaddicted to language and phraseology which, though meet and fitting uponthe lips of elderly gentlemen, sounded ineffably pedantic upon those ofan unkempt fag of fourteen. Finally, he was shy and sensitive, yetquite unable to indicate that characteristic by a retiring demeanour.
Life at school, then, did not begin too easily for him. He wasnaturally of a chirpy and confiding disposition, and the more nervous hefelt the more chirpy and confiding he became. He had no instincts,either, upon the subject of caste. Instead of confining himself to hisown impossible order of pariahs, he attempted to fraternise with any boywho interested him. He addressed great personages by their pet names; heinvited high potentates to come and partake of refreshment at hisexpense. Now, promiscuous bonhomie in new boys is not usuallyencouraged in the great schools of England, and all the ponderous andrelentless machinery available for the purpose was set in motion toimpress this truth upon the over-demonstrative Freak. Most of us knowthis mighty engine. Under its operations many sensitive little boyscrumple up into furtive and apathetic nonentities. Others grow intolicensed buffoons, battening upon their own shame, cadging for cheapapplause, thinking always of things to say and to do which will makefellows laugh. The Freak did neither. He remained obstinately andresolutely a Freak. If chidden for eccentricity he answered back,sometimes too effectively, and suffered. But he never gave in. Atlast, finding that he apparently feared no one,--though really this wasfar from being the case: his most audacious flights were as often as notinspired by sheer nervous excitement,--the world in which he moveddecided to tolerate him, and finally ended by extending towards him asort of amused respect.
All this time we have left our friend standing outside the door.Presently, drawing a deep breath, he entered, jauntily enough.
"Hallo, Freak, where have you been?" enquired Mr. Rumbold.
"I felt constrained," replied The Freak, as one old gentleman toanother, "to return to the House upon an errand of reparation."
A full half of the company present were blankly ignorant as to themeaning of the word "reparation," so they giggled contentedly anddecided that The Freak was in good form this morning.
"What was the trouble?" asked Jerningham.
"As I was counting my change in the cab," explained The Freak, "I foundthat I was a penny short. (I'll have fried sole, and thenbacon-and-eggs, please. And chocolate.)"
"Shylock!" commented the humorous Mr. Jerningham.
The Freak hastened to explain.
"It was the only penny I had," he said: "that was why I missed it. Therest was silver. I saw what had happened: I had given a penny toSeagrave by mistake, instead of half-a-crown."
The thought of Mr. Seagrave, the stern and awful butler of the HiviteHouse, incredulously contemplating a solitary copper in his palm, whattime the unconscious Freak drove away two-and-fivepence to the good,tickled the company greatly, and the narrator had made considerableinroads upon the fried sole before he was called upon to continue.
"What did you do?" asked Rumbold.
"I drove back and apologised, and gave him two-and-fivepence," said TheFreak simply.
"Was he shirty about it?"
"No; he did n't seem at all surprised," was the rather naive reply.
There was another laugh at this, and Jerningham observed:--
"Freak, you are the limit."
"I may be the limit," countered The Freak hotly,--ordinary chaff hecould endure, but Mr. Jerningham had more than once exceeded the boundsof recognised fag-baiting that term,--"but I am wearing my own shirt,Jerningham, and not one of Carmyle's!"
There was a roar at this unexpected riposte, for Jerningham, though adandy of the most ambitious type, was notoriously addicted to borrowedplumage, and the cubicle of the easy-going Carmyle was next his own.
"You will be booted for that afterwards, my lad," announced thediscomfited wearer of Mr. Carmyle's shirt.
The Freak surveyed his tormentor thoughtfully. After all, he was safefrom reprisals for nearly five weeks. He therefore replied,deliberately and pedantically:--
"I do not dispute the probability of the occurrence. But that won'tprevent you," he added, reverting to the vernacular, "from feeling jollywell scored off, all the same. And"--after a brief interval to allowthis psychological point full play--"mind you send the shirt back toCarmyle. I have enough trouble looking after his things as it is. Getit washed, and then carefully dis--"
"Carefully _what_?" enquired Mr. Jerningham, beginning to push back hischair.
The Freak, who had intended to say "disinfected," decided not toendanger his clean collar, carefully brushed hair, and otherappurtenances of the homeward-bound.
--"And carefully despatched per Parcels Post," he concluded sweetly."Hello, you fellows--finished?"
"Yes: buck up!" commanded Rumbold.
The feast ended in traditional fashion. No bill was ever asked for orpresented upon these occasions. Rumbold major merely took thesugar-basin and, having emptied it of its contents, placed therein thesum of two-and-nine-pence--half-a-crown for his breakfast and threepencefor the waiters. The bowl was then sent round the table in the mannerof an offertory plate, and the resulting collection was handed withoutceremony to the fat head-waiter, who received it with a stately bow anda few well-chosen and long-familiar phrases upon the subject of a goodholiday and a Merry Christmas; after which the members of the partydispersed to the railway station and went their several ways.
It was characteristic of The Freak that he hung behind at the lastmoment, for the purpose of handing a furtive shilling to theinarticulate Teuton who had assisted in dispensing breakfast, and whoseunderfed appearance had roused beneath the comfortably distendedwaistcoat of our altruistic friend certain suspicions, not altogetherunfounded, as to the principle upon which head-waiters share tips withtheir subordinates.
