BIFFEN'S CONCERT
It was the inalienable right of the juniors of the cock-house to give a concert the last night of the term, and to have free and undisputed possession of the concert-room. Corker made it a rule that the captain of the school should be there to see there were no riots, which, as the fags were off home on the morrow, was more than possible. So when I got a polite note from Grim about half an hour after the results of the Perry Exhibition had been announced, telling me that Corker had given the customary consent, I strolled about looking up a cohort of monitors to help me in maintaining the "sacred cause of order and decency." I knew of old those junior concerts. "Pandemonium" was nearer the word.
Biffen's juniors, red-hot from their exertions and hoarse from their shouting in the speech-room, held a meeting in their own private quarters to deliberate as to their concert.
"I vote Father Grim to the chair," said Wilson.
"Thanks, my son," said Grim, with alacrity "Somebody second that, and let's get to business."
Somebody obligingly seconded, and Grim enthroned himself with dignity in the chair, and said cheerfully, "Carried nem. con. That's the way to commence biz. Now, you fellows, I thank you for this unexpected honour, which has quite taken me by surprise. I shall always—"
"Shut up, Grim," said Brown. "You know jolly well you asked Wilson to propose you."
"All right, Brown; I'll talk with you afterwards. Sorry your Roman nose is out of joint; but nobody proposed you, you know, so shut up. Gentlemen—"
"Hear, hear!"
"Biffen's are cock-house at last" (deafening cheers) "and we must make our concert a stunner. It must go with a bang from start to finish. It must lick every other fag's concert that ever was, and 'be the bright harbinger of—'What is the rest of the quote, Wilson?"
"'Of future joys,' you ass."
"'Of future joys,' you asses."
"I'll punch your head, Grim; you said you remembered it."
"All serene, old man, never mind the cackle."
"What about our concert?" asked Brown.
"It's going to be great. Does any one happen to have a programme of that awful performance of Corker's house last year?"
"Rather!" said half a dozen of Biffen's ornaments. "Did you think we'd burn a curiosity like that?"
"Cut out and get yours, Rogers, my pet."
"My pet" bolted and came back with the year-old programme of the Corker's fags.
"Pass the abomination this way, Rogers. Gentlemen," said Grim, with intense scorn, "those unspeakable Corker asses started off with a prologue."
"We must go one better—eh, you fellows?" said Rogers.
"Rather!" they all shrieked.
"I vote," said young Cherry, "that we lead off with an epilogue. That will leave 'em standing."
"Hear, hear!" said Fruity.
"Who'll second that?" said Grim.
"I will," said Rogers, cheerfully.
"Then do it, you ass," said the chairman.
"I second," said Rogers, hurriedly, "and you needn't be so beastly strict, Grim."
"Gentlemen, the proposal before the meeting is that we lead off with an epilogue. Item number one on the programme to be 'An Epilogue.' Those in favour signify. Carried unanimously."
"I say, Grim, what is an epilogue, anyhow?" said a voice.
"Oh, I say," said the chairman, "pass that young ignoramus this way. Lamb, do you mean to say you don't know what an epilogue is?"
"No, I don't."
"This is sickening," said Grim, with disgust. "A fellow in Biffen's not know what an epilogue is! Tell him, Fruity," he added, with pathetic vexation.
"He asked you," said Cherry, hurriedly.
"I'm the chairman," said Grim, in a wax, but with great relief. "Explain away, Fruity!"
"Oh, every first-class concert starts with one," he said vaguely.
"See now, Lamb?"
Lamb professed himself satisfied, but he did not appear absolutely blinded by the light either.
"Anyhow," said Wilson, "Fruity will see to that. I propose he does."
"I second it," said Lamb, viciously, whereupon Cherry kicked the seconder on the shins, for he did not exactly thirst for that honour. "I'm an ass," he said to himself; "but, anyhow, I'll look up what the blessed word does mean, and try to do it."
"I see," said Grim, "they've got a poem on 'Cock House' for number two. That seems all right, eh?"
"Oh yes; it's always done."
"Well, we'll have one too, eh? Who's got to do the poetry, though? Somebody propose somebody"—thereupon every fag proposed his chiefest enemy, and the battles raged along the line. "And you call yourselves gentlemen!" said Grim in disgust—he had been overlooked for the time being.
"I propose Sharpe," said Wilson, dusting himself. "He does no end swell construes from 'Ovid.'"
"I second that," said Rogers. "He has long hair. Poets always have. Milton had."
"That bit is side," said the chairman, judicially. "Those who are in favour of Sharpe doing the poetry hold—Carried, nem. con."
"Nem. con. is side too, Grim," said Rogers.
"Shut up, you mule! Sharpe, you'll have to do the poem."
"I say, you fellows, it will be horse work," said Sharpe, disconsolately. "There isn't a rhyme to Biffen's."
"Oh! isn't there? What about 'spiffing'?"
Sharpe choked.
"Griffin."
"Tiffin."
Lamb squeaked out "stiff 'un," and some one gently led him out—even Biffen's fags caved in at that.
"Sharpe, you're booked for number two, old man. Gentlemen, I direct your attention to number three—Corker's did Indian clubs and the gold-fish dodge."
"Oh, well," said Wilson, "we're not going to copy Corker's, anyhow. Let's do dumb-bells and something else."
"I propose that Wilson does the something else," said Cherry, good-naturedly.
Wilson said he was ready to do something to Cherry any time that was convenient. Rogers suggested that they ask the niggers to do something on the bars, and Sharpe seconded it, so the dervishes were written to and promised a scragging if they didn't turn themselves inside out for the glory of Biffen's concert.
"I say, you fellows," said Grim, "it's to be a concert, you know, and except for Fruity's epilogue there isn't any music down yet." Cherry groaned to think he'd been let in for a song.
"What about Thurston?" asked half a dozen of the fags.
"Right, oh! Now, 'Dicky Bird,' hop up to the front, and trot out your list."
Thurston wasn't shy, and rather fancied his bleat, so he said, "Oh! I don't mind at all."
"We thought you wouldn't," said the chairman, winking.
"What do you say to 'Alice, where art thou'?"
"We don't fancy your shouting five minutes for her at all. Next, please."
"'Only to see her face again,' then?"
"Whose?" said Sharpe, irreverently.
"Why, the girl's the fellow is singing about," said Thurston, hotly.
"Oh! you'll see her the day after to-morrow, Dicky Bird, so don't you fret about that now. Do you know 'My first cigar'?"
"Do you mean the one that sent you to hospital, Grimmy?"
"No I don't. None of your cheek. I'm chairman. I mean the one Corney Grain used to sing."
"Yes."
"Well, you sing that and you'll make the fellows die with laughing. And mind you illustrate it with plenty of life-like pantomime, do you hear?"
"Carried, nem. con.," shouted all the fags with enthusiasm.
"Hear, hear, Grimmy!"
"So that's settled for you, and if you get an encore, Dicky Bird, you can trot 'Alice' out if you like."
"Which of the fellows have we to invite out of the eleven to help us?"
"Acton," was the universal yell.
"We'll see him, then, to-night."
"Three cheers for Acton," said someone, and the roof echoed.
"Well, we're getting on, and I say, you chaps, I have an idea."
"Hear, hear!" said Cherry, acidly; "Grimmy has an idea."
"A grand idea, Fruity. Your epilogue isn't in it."
"What is it, Grim?"
"We'll have a boxing competition open to St. Amory's juniors only. Rogers should pull that off, eh?"
"Rather," said they all. "One more feather in Biffen's cap.".
"But, Grimmy," said Rogers, "I don't last, you know."
"Ah!" said the chairman, brilliantly, "we'll only have one two-minutes' round each draw. It will go by points. You're safe as a house, my pet, really."
"Who'll be judge about points? I propose you, Grim," said Rogers, with intent.
"Thanks, old cock, but I really couldn't do the honourable if you were 'rocky' in the last rounds. We'll ask Carr to see us through that part. You'll be all right, I tell you."
"Who's to accompany on the P and O?"
"Oh, Brown must see to that!"
"I propose Brown key-thumper."
"I second that."
"Carried," said the chair, smartly.
"I say," said Grim, "I propose myself stage manager. I'm the only fellow who knows a ha'porth about it."
"A ha'porth is an awful lot; besides, a chairman can't propose himself," said Cherry, revengefully.
"I second the chairman's proposal," said Wilson, backing up his chum.
"Carried, nem. con."
"No, I'm hanged if it was!" said Cherry. "You're a fraud, Grimmy."
"All right now, you chaps, the meeting is over. Wilson and I will go up to Acton, and see what he'll do for us, and then we'll rough out a swagger programme."