02 A Prefect's Uncle

by Unknown

  ‘Yes,’ said Reece simply, going on with his writing.

  This might have discouraged some people, but Nature had equipped Monk with a tough skin, which hints never pierced. He dropped into a chair, crossed his legs, and coughed. Danvers and Waterford leaned in picturesque attitudes against the door and mantelpiece. There was a silence for a minute, during which Reece continued to write unmoved.

  ‘Take a seat, Monk,’ he said at last, without looking up.

  ‘Oh, er, thanks, I have,’ said Monk. ‘I say, Reece, we wanted to speak to you.’

  ‘Go ahead then,’ said Reece. ‘I can listen and write at the same time. I’m doing this prose against time.’

  ‘It’s about Gethryn.’

  ‘What’s Gethryn been doing?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Nothing special. It’s about his being captain of the House team. The chaps seem to think he ought to resign.’

  ‘Which chaps?’ enquired Reece, laying down his pen and turning round in his chair.

  ‘The rest of the team, you know.’

  ‘Why don’t they think he ought to be captain? The head of the House is always captain of the House team unless he’s too bad to be in it at all. Don’t the chaps think Gethryn’s good at cricket?’

  ‘Oh, he’s good enough,’ said Monk. ‘It’s more about this M.C.C. match business, you know. His cutting off like that in the middle of the match. The chaps think the House ought to take some notice of it. Express its disapproval, and that sort of thing.’

  ‘And what do the chaps think of doing about it?’

  Monk inserted a hand in his breast-pocket, and drew forth the round-robin. He straightened it out, and passed it over to Reece.

  ‘We’ve drawn up this notice,’ he said, ‘and we came to see if you’d sign it. Nearly all the other chaps in the team have.’

  Reece perused the document gravely. Then he handed it back to its owner.

  ‘What rot,’ said he.

  ‘I don’t think so at all,’ said Monk.

  ‘Nor do I,’ broke in Danvers, speaking for the first time. ‘What else can we do? We can’t let a chap like Gethryn stick to the captaincy.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘A cad like that!’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion. I don’t suppose everyone thinks him a cad. I don’t, personally.’

  ‘Well, anyway,’ asked Waterford, ‘are you going to sign?’

  ‘My good man, of course I’m not. Do you mean to say you seriously intend to hand in that piffle to Gethryn?’

  ‘Rather,’ said Monk.

  ‘Then you’ll be making fools of yourselves. I’ll tell you exactly what’ll happen, if you care to know. Gethryn will read this rot, and simply cut everybody whose name appears on the list out of the House team. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but there are several other fellows besides you in the House. And if you come to think of it, you aren’t so awfully good. You three are in the Second. The other five haven’t got colours at all.’

  ‘Anyhow, we’re all in the House team,’ said Monk.

  ‘Don’t let that worry you,’ said Reece, ‘you won’t be long, if you show Gethryn that interesting document. Anything else I can do for you?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ said Monk. And the deputation retired.

  When they had gone, Reece made his way to the Bishop’s study. It was not likely that the deputation would deliver their ultimatum until late at night, when the study would be empty. From what Reece knew of Monk, he judged that it would be pleasanter to him to leave the document where the Bishop could find it in the morning, rather than run the risks that might attend a personal interview. There was time, therefore, to let Gethryn know what was going to happen, so that he might not be surprised into doing anything rash, such as resigning the captaincy, for example. Not that Reece thought it likely that he would, but it was better to take no risks.

  Both Marriott and Gethryn were in the study when he arrived.

  ‘Hullo, Reece,’ said Marriott, ‘come in and take several seats. Have a biscuit? Have two. Have a good many.’

  Reece helped himself, and gave them a brief description of the late interview.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Gethryn, ‘I thought Monk would be getting at me somehow soon. I shall have to slay that chap someday. What ought I to do, do you think?’

  ‘My dear chap,’ said Marriott, ‘there’s only one thing you can do. Cut the lot of them out of the team, and fill up with substitutes.’

  Reece nodded approval.

  ‘Of course. That’s what you must do. As a matter of fact, I told them you would. I’ve given you a reputation. You must live up to it.’

  ‘Besides,’ continued Marriott, ‘after all it isn’t such a crusher, when you come to think of it. Only four of them are really certainties for their places, Monk, Danvers, Waterford, and Saunders. The rest are simply tail.’

  Reece nodded again. ‘Great minds think alike. Exactly what I told them, only they wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘Well, whom do you suggest instead of them? Some of the kids are jolly keen and all that, but they wouldn’t be much good against Baynes and Lorimer, for instance.’

  ‘If I were you,’ said Marriott, ‘I shouldn’t think about their batting at all. I should go simply for fielding. With a good fielding side we ought to have quite a decent chance. There’s no earthly reason why you and Reece shouldn’t put on enough for the first wicket to win all the matches. It’s been done before. Don’t you remember the School House getting the cup four years ago when Twiss was captain? They had nobody who was any earthly good except Twiss and Birch, and those two used to make about a hundred and fifty between them in every match. Besides, some of the kids can bat rather well. Wilson for one. He can bowl, too.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Bishop, ‘all right. Stick down Wilson. Who else? Gregson isn’t bad. He can field in the slips, which is more than a good many chaps can.’

  ‘Gregson’s good,’ said Reece, ‘put him down. That makes five. You might have young Lee in too. I’ve seen him play like a book at his form net once or twice.’

  ‘Lee—six. Five more wanted. Where’s a House list? Here we are. Now. Adams, Bond, Brown, Burgess. Burgess has his points. Shall I stick him down?’

  ‘Not presume to dictate,’ said Marriott, ‘but Adams is streets better than Burgess as a field, and just as good a bat.’

  ‘Why, when have you seen him?’

  ‘In a scratch game between his form and another. He was carting all over the shop. Made thirty something.’

  ‘We’ll have both of them in, then. Plenty of room. This is the team so far. Wilson, Gregson, Lee, Adams, and Burgess, with Marriott, Reece, and Gethryn. Jolly hot stuff it is, too, by Jove. We’ll simply walk that tankard. Now, for the last places. I vote we each select a man, and nobody’s allowed to appeal against the other’s decision. I lead off with Crowinshaw. Good name, Crowinshaw. Look well on a score sheet.’

  ‘Heave us the list,’ said Marriott. ‘Thanks. My dear sir, there’s only one man in the running at all, which his name’s Chamberlain. Shove down Joseph, and don’t let me hear anyone breathe a word against him. Come on, Reece, let’s have your man. I bet Reece selects some weird rotter.’

  Reece pondered.

  ‘Carstairs,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, my very dear sir! Carstairs!’

  ‘All criticism barred,’ said the Bishop.

  ‘Sorry. By the way, what House are we drawn against in the first round?’

  ‘Webster’s.’

  ‘Ripping. We can smash Webster’s. They’ve got nobody. It’ll be rather a good thing having an easy time in our first game. We shall be able to get some idea about the team’s play. I shouldn’t think we could possibly get beaten by Webster’s.’

  There was a knock at the door. Wilson came in with a request that he might fetch a book that he had left in the study.

  ‘Oh, Wilson, just the man I wanted to see,’ said the Bishop. ‘Wilson, you’re playing against Webste
r’s next week.’

  ‘By Jove,’ said Wilson, ‘am I really?’

  He had spent days in working out on little slips of paper during school his exact chances of getting a place in the House team. Recently, however, he had almost ceased to hope. He had reckoned on at least eight of the senior study being chosen before him.

  ‘Yes,’ said the Bishop, ‘you must buck up. Practise fielding every minute of your spare time. Anybody’ll hit you up catches if you ask them.’

  ‘Right,’ said Wilson, ‘I will.’

  ‘All right, then. Go, and tell Lee that I want to see him.’

  ‘Lee,’ said the Bishop, when that worthy appeared, ‘I wanted to see you, to tell you you’re playing for the House against Webster’s. Thought you might like to know.’

  ‘By Jove,’ said Lee, ‘am I really?’

  ‘Yes. Buck up with your fielding.’

  ‘Right,’ said Lee.

  ‘That’s all. If you’re going downstairs, you might tell Adams to come up.’

  For a quarter of an hour the Bishop interviewed the junior members of his team, and impressed on each of them the absolute necessity of bucking up with his fielding. And each of them protested that the matter should receive his best consideration.

  ‘Well, they’re keen enough anyway,’ said Marriott, as the door closed behind Carstairs, the last of the new recruits, ‘and that’s the great thing. Hullo, who’s that? I thought you had worked through the lot. Come in!’

  A small form appeared in the doorway, carrying in its right hand a neatly-folded note.

  ‘Monk told me to give you this, Gethryn.’

  ‘Half a second,’ said the Bishop, as the youth made for the door. ‘There may be an answer.’

  ‘Monk said there wouldn’t be one.’

  ‘Oh. No, it’s all right. There isn’t an answer.’

  The door closed. The Bishop laughed, and threw the note over to Reece.

  ‘Recognize it?’

  Reece examined the paper.

  ‘It’s a fair copy. The one Monk showed me was rather smudged. I suppose they thought you might be hurt if you got an inky round-robin. Considerate chap, Monk.’

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ said Marriott. ‘By Jove. I say, listen to this bit. Like Macaulay, isn’t it?’

  He read extracts from the ultimatum.

  ‘Let’s have it,’ said Gethryn, stretching out a hand.

  ‘Not much. I’m going to keep it, and have it framed.’

  ‘All right. I’m going down now to put up the list.’

  When he had returned to the study, Monk and Danvers came quietly downstairs to look at the notice-board. It was dark in the passage, and Monk had to strike a light before he could see to read.

  ‘By George,’ he said, as the match flared up, ‘Reece was right. He has.’

  ‘Well, there’s one consolation,’ commented Danvers viciously, ‘they can’t possibly get that cup now. They’ll have to put us in again soon, you see if they don’t.’

  ”M, yes,’ said Monk doubtfully.

  [14]

  NORRIS TAKES A SHORT HOLIDAY

  ‘It’s all rot,’ observed Pringle, ‘to say that they haven’t a chance, because they have.’

  He and Lorimer were passing through the cricket-field on their way back from an early morning visit to the baths, and had stopped to look at Leicester’s House team (revised version) taking its daily hour of fielding practice. They watched the performance keenly and critically, as spies in an enemy’s camp.

  ‘Who said they hadn’t a chance?’ said Lorimer. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Oh, everybody. The chaps call them the Kindergarten and the Kids’ Happy League, and things of that sort. Rot, I call it. They seem to forget that you only want two or three really good men in a team if the rest can field. Look at our crowd. They’ve all either got their colours, or else are just outside the teams, and I swear you can’t rely on one of them to hold the merest sitter right into his hands.’

  On the subject of fielding in general, and catching in particular, Pringle was feeling rather sore. In the match which his House had just won against Browning’s, he had put himself on to bowl in the second innings. He was one of those bowlers who manage to capture from six to ten wickets in the course of a season, and the occasions on which he bowled really well were few. On this occasion he had bowled excellently, and it had annoyed him when five catches, five soft, gentle catches, were missed off him in the course of four overs. As he watched the crisp, clean fielding which was shown by the very smallest of Leicester’s small ‘tail’, he felt that he would rather have any of that despised eight on his side than any of the School House lights except Baynes and Lorimer.

  ‘Our lot’s all right, really,’ said Lorimer, in answer to Pringle’s sweeping condemnation. ‘Everybody has his off days. They’ll be all right next match.’

  ‘Doubt it,’ replied Pringle. ‘It’s all very well for you. You bowl to hit the sticks. I don’t. Now just watch these kids for a moment. Now! Look! No, he couldn’t have got to that. Wait a second. Now!’

  Gethryn had skied one into the deep. Wilson, Burgess, and Carstairs all started for it.

  ‘Burgess,’ called the Bishop.

  The other two stopped dead. Burgess ran on and made the catch.

  ‘Now, there you are,’ said Pringle, pointing his moral, ‘see how those two kids stopped when Gethryn called. If that had happened in one of our matches, you’d have had half a dozen men rotting about underneath the ball, and getting in one another’s way, and then probably winding up by everybody leaving the catch to everybody else.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ said Lorimer, ‘you’re getting morbid. Why the dickens didn’t you think of having our fellows out for fielding practice, if you’re so keen on it?’

  ‘They wouldn’t have come. When a chap gets colours, he seems to think he’s bought the place. You can’t drag a Second Eleven man out of his bed before breakfast to improve his fielding. He thinks it can’t be improved. They’re a heart-breaking crew.’

  ‘Good,’ said Lorimer, ‘I suppose that includes me?’

  ‘No. You’re a model man. I have seen you hold a catch now and then.’

  ‘Thanks. Oh, I say, I gave in the poem yesterday. I hope the deuce it won’t get the prize. I hope they won’t spot, either, that I didn’t write the thing.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ said Pringle complacently, ‘you’re all right. Don’t you worry yourself.’

  Webster’s, against whom Leicester’s had been drawn in the opening round of the House matches, had three men in their team, and only three, who knew how to hold a bat. It was the slackest House in the School, and always had been. It did not cause any overwhelming surprise, accordingly, when Leicester’s beat them without fatigue by an innings and a hundred and twenty-one runs. Webster’s won the toss, and made thirty-five. For Leicester’s, Reece and Gethryn scored fifty and sixty-two respectively, and Marriott fifty-three not out. They then, with two wickets down, declared, and rattled Webster’s out for seventy. The public, which had had its eye on the team, in order to see how its tail was likely to shape, was disappointed. The only definite fact that could be gleaned from the match was that the junior members of the team were not to be despised in the field. The early morning field-outs had had their effect. Adams especially shone, while Wilson at cover and Burgess in the deep recalled Jessop and Tyldesley.

  The School made a note of the fact. So did the Bishop. He summoned the eight juniors seriatim to his study, and administered much praise, coupled with the news that fielding before breakfast would go on as usual.

  Leicester’s had drawn against Jephson’s in the second round. Norris’s lot had beaten Cooke’s by, curiously enough, almost exactly the same margin as that by which Leicester’s had defeated Webster’s. It was generally considered that this match would decide Leicester’s chances for the cup. If they could beat a really hot team like Jephson’s, it was reasonable to suppose that they would do the same to the rest of the H
ouses, though the School House would have to be reckoned with. But the School House, as Pringle had observed, was weak in the field. It was not a coherent team. Individually its members were good, but they did not play together as Leicester’s did.

  But the majority of the School did not think seriously of their chances. Except for Pringle, who, as has been mentioned before, always made a point of thinking differently from everyone else, no one really believed that they would win the cup, or even appear in the final. How could a team whose tail began at the fall of the second wicket defeat teams which, like the School House, had no real tail at all?

  Norris supported this view. It was for this reason that when, at breakfast on the day on which Jephson’s were due to play Leicester’s, he received an invitation from one of his many uncles to spend a weekend at his house, he decided to accept it.

  This uncle was a man of wealth. After winning two fortunes on the Stock Exchange and losing them both, he had at length amassed a third, with which he retired in triumph to the country, leaving Throgmorton Street to exist as best it could without him. He had bought a ‘show-place’ at a village which lay twenty miles by rail to the east of Beckford, and it had always been Norris’s wish to see this show-place, a house which was said to combine the hoariest of antiquity with a variety of modern comforts.

  Merely to pay a flying visit there would be good. But his uncle held out an additional attraction. If Norris could catch the one-forty from Horton, he would arrive just in time to take part in a cricket match, that day being the day of the annual encounter with the neighbouring village of Pudford. The rector of Pudford, the opposition captain, so wrote Norris’s uncle, had by underhand means lured down three really decent players from Oxford—not Blues, but almost—who had come to the village ostensibly to read classics with him as their coach, but in reality for the sole purpose of snatching from Little Bindlebury (his own village) the laurels they had so nobly earned the year before. He had heard that Norris was captaining the Beckford team this year, and had an average of thirty-eight point nought three two, so would he come and make thirty-eight point nought three two for Little Bindlebury?