Chapter Four.
A Friendly Chat.
If Mark Railsford had been left with no better guide to his new duties and responsibilities than the few hurried utterances given by Dr Ponsford during their tour through the premises that morning, his progress would have been very slow and unsatisfactory. It was part of the doctor’s method never to do for anyone, colleague or boy, what they could possibly do for themselves. He believed in piling up difficulties at the beginning of an enterprise, instead of making smooth the start and saving up the hard things for later on. If a master of his got through his first term well, he would be pretty sure to turn out well in future. But meanwhile he got as little help from head-quarters as possible, and had to make all his discoveries, arrange his own methods, reap his own experiences for himself.
Grover had good reason to know the doctor’s peculiarity in this respect, and took care to give his friend a few hints about starting work, which otherwise he might never have evolved out of his own consciousness.
Amongst other things he advised that he should, as soon as possible, make the acquaintance of the head boys of his house, and try to come to a good understanding with them as to the work and conduct of the term. Accordingly four polite notes were that evening handed by the house-messenger to Messrs Ainger, Barnworth, Stafford, and Felgate, requesting the pleasure of their company at 7.30 in the new master’s rooms. The messenger had an easy task, for, oddly enough, he found the four gentlemen in question assembled in Ainger’s study. They were, in fact, discussing their new house-master when his four little missives were placed in their hands.
“What’s the joke now, Mercury?” asked Barnworth.
The messenger, who certainly was not nicknamed Mercury on account of the rapidity of his motions or the volatility of his spirits, replied, “I dunno; but I don’t see why one letter shouldn’t have done for the lot of yer. He’s flush with his writing-paper if he isn’t with his pounds, shillings and pence!”
“Oh, he’s not tipped you, then? Never mind, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault!”
Mercury, in private, turned this little sally over in his mind, and came to the conclusion that Mr Barnworth was not yet a finished pupil in manners. Meanwhile the four letters were being opened and perused critically.
“‘Dear Ainger’—one would think he’d known me all my life!” said Ainger.
“‘I shall be so glad if you will look in at my rooms,’” read Barnworth. “He evidently wants my opinion on his wall-paper.”
“‘At 7.30, for a few minutes’ chat’—nothing about tea and toast, though,” said Stafford.
“‘Believe me, yours very truly, M. Railsford.’ So I do believe you, my boy!” said Felgate. “Are you going, you fellows?”
“Must,” said Ainger; “it’s a mandate, and there’s no time to get a doctor’s certificate.”
“What does he want to chat about, I wonder?” said Stafford.
“The weather, of course!” growled Barnworth; “what else is there?”
Stafford coloured up as usual when anyone laughed at him.
“He wants to get us to take the oath of allegiance, you fellows,” said Felgate. “‘Will you walk into my parlour? said the spider to the fly,’ that’s what he means. I think we’d better not go.”
Ainger laughed rather spitefully.
“It strikes me he’ll find us four fairly tough flies. I mean to go. I want to see what he’s like; I’m not at all sure that I like him.”
“Poor beggar!” murmured Barnworth. “Now my doubt is whether he likes me. He ought to, oughtn’t he, Staff?”
“Why, yes!” replied that amiable youth; “he doesn’t look as if he was very particular.”
“Oh, thanks, awfully!” replied Barnworth.
The amiable coloured up more than ever.
“I really didn’t mean that,” he said, horrified at his unconscious joke. “I mean he doesn’t seem strict, or as if he’d be hard to get on with.”
“I hope he’s not,” said Ainger, with a frown. “We had enough of that with Moss.”
“Well,” said Felgate, “if you are going, I suppose I must come too; only take my advice, and don’t promise him too much.”
Railsford meanwhile had transacted a good deal of business of a small kind on his own account. He had quelled a small riot in the junior preparation room, and intercepted one or two deserters in the act of quitting the house after hours. He had also gone up to inspect the dormitories, lavatories, and other domestic offices; and on his way down he had made glad the hearts of his coming kinsman and the baronet by a surprise visit in their study. He found them actively unpacking a few home treasures, including a small hamper full of ham, a pistol, some boxing-gloves, and a particularly fiendish-looking bull-dog. The last-named luxury was the baronet’s contribution to the common store, and, having been forgotten for some hours in the bustle of arrival, was now removed from his bandbox in a semi-comatose state.
“Hullo!” said Railsford, whose arrival coincided with the unpacking of this natural history curiosity, “what have you got there?”
Oakshott’s impulse, on hearing this challenge, had been to huddle his unhappy booty back into the bandbox; but, on second thoughts, he set it down on the mat, and gazing at it attentively, so as not to commit himself to a too hasty opinion, observed submissively that it was a dog.
It is melancholy to have to record failure, in whatever sphere or form; but truth compels us to state that at this particular moment Mark Railsford blundered grievously. Instead of deciding definitely there and then on his own authority whether dogs were or were not en règle in Railsford’s house, he halted and hesitated.
“That’s against rules, isn’t it?” said he.
“Against rules!” said Arthur, crimson in the face—“against rules! Why, Dig and I had one a year ago, only he died, poor beast; he had a mill with a rat, and the rat got on to his nose, and punished him before—”
“Yes,” said the master; “but I shall have to see whether it’s allowed to keep a dog. Meanwhile you must see he does not make a noise or become a nuisance.”
“All serene,” replied Dig, who had already almost come to regard the new master as a sort of brother-in-law of his own; “he’s a great protection against rats and thieves. My mother gave him to me—didn’t she, Smiley?”
Smiley was at that moment lying on his back all of a heap, with his limp legs lifted appealingly in the air, and too much occupied in gasping to vouchsafe any corroboration of his young master’s depositions.
Railsford departed, leaving the whole question in an unsettled condition, and not altogether satisfied with himself. He knew, the moment he was outside the door, what he ought to have said; but that was very little consolation to him. Nor was it till he was back in his own room that he remembered he had not taken exception to the pistol. Of course, having looked at it and said nothing, its owner would assume that he did not disapprove of it. And yet he really could not sit down and write, “Dear Grover,—Please say by bearer if pistols and bull-dogs are allowed? Yours truly, M.R.” It looked too foolish. Of course, when he saw them written down on paper he knew they were not allowed; and yet it would be equally foolish now to go back to the study and say he had decided without inquiry that they were against rules.
He was still debating this knotty point when a knock at the door apprised him that his expected guests had arrived. Alas! blunder number two trod hard on the heels of number one! He had no tea or coffee, not even a box of biscuits, to take off the edge of the interview and offer a retreat for his own inevitable embarrassment and the possible shyness of his visitors. The arrangements for that reception were as formal as the invitations had been. Was it much wonder if the conference turned out stiff and awkward? In the first place, as all four entered together, and none of them were labelled, he was quite at a loss to know their names. And it is a chilling beginning to a friendly chat to have to inquire the names of your guests. He shook hands rather nervously all round; and then, with an heroic effort at ease and freedom, said, singling out Felgate for the experiment—
“Let me see, you are Ainger, are you not?”
It was a most unfortunate shot; for nothing could have been less complimentary to the jealous and quick-tempered captain of the house than to be mistaken for his self-conceited and unstable inferior, with whom, he was in the habit of congratulating himself, he had little or nothing in common.
“No, sir,” said Felgate, omitting, however, to confess his own name, or point out the lawful owner of the name of Ainger.
The master tried to smile at his own dilemma, and had the presence of mind not to plunge further into the quicksands.
“Which of you is Ainger?” he inquired.
“I am, sir,” replied the captain haughtily.
“Thank you,” said Mark, and could have eaten the word and his tongue into the bargain the moment he had spoken. This was blunder number three, and the worst yet! For so anxious was he to clear himself of the reproach of abasing himself before his head boys, that his next inquiries were made brusquely and snappishly.
“And Barnworth?”
“I am, sir.”
“And Stafford?”
“I am, sir.”
“And Felgate?”
“I am, sir.”
That was all over. The master smiled. The boys looked grave.
“Won’t you sit down?” said the former, drawing his own chair up to the hearth and poking the fire.
Ainger and Felgate dropped into two seats, and Stafford, after a short excursion to a distant corner, deposited himself on another. Barnworth—there being no more chairs in the room—sat as gracefully as he could on the corner of the table.
“I thought it would be well,” began Railsford, still dallying with the poker—“won’t you bring your chair in nearer, Stafford?”
Stafford manoeuvred his chair in between Ainger and Felgate.
“I thought it would not be a bad thing—haven’t you a chair, Barnworth? dear me! I’ll get one out of the bedroom!”
And in his flurry he went off, poker in hand, to the cubicle.
“What a day we’re having!” murmured Barnworth.
Stafford giggled just as Railsford re-entered. It was awkward, and gave the new master a very unfavourable impression of the most harmless boy in his house.
“Now,” said he, beginning on a new tack, “I am anxious to hear from you something about the state of the house. You’re my police, you know,” he added with a friendly smile.
Stafford was the only one who smiled in response, and then ensued a dead silence.
“What do you think, Ainger? Do things seem pretty right?”
“Yes,” said Ainger laconically.
“Have you noticed anything, Barnworth?”
“There’s a draught in the big dormitory, sir,” replied Barnworth seriously.
“Indeed, we must have that seen to. Of course, what I mean is as to the conduct of the boys, and so on. Are the rules pretty generally obeyed?”
It was Stafford’s turn, and his report was disconcerting too.
“No, sir, not very much.”
The new master put down the poker.
“I am sorry to hear that; for discipline must be maintained. Can you suggest anything to improve the state of the house?”
“No, sir,” replied Felgate.
This was getting intolerable. The new master’s patience was oozing away, and his wits, strange to say, were coming in.
“This is rather damping,” he said. “Things seem pretty right, there’s a draught in the big dormitory, the rules are not very much obeyed, and nothing can be suggested to improve matters.”
The four sat silent—the situation was quite as painful to them as to Mark.
The latter grew desperate.
“Now,” said he, raising his voice in a way which put up Ainger’s back. “You four boys are in the Sixth, and I understand that the discipline of the house is pretty much in your hands. I shall have to depend on you; and if things go wrong, of course I shall naturally hold you responsible.”
Ainger flushed up at this; while Stafford, on whom the master’s eyes were fixed, vaguely nodded his head.
“I am very anxious for the house to get a good name for order, and work—and,” added he, “I hope we shall be able to do something at sports, too.”
Here, at least, the master expected he would meet with a response. But Ainger, the boy chiefly interested in sports, was sulking; and Barnworth, who also was an athlete, was too absorbed in speculating what remark was maturing itself in Felgate’s mind to heed what was being said.
“I suppose the house has an eleven—for instance?”
“Yes, generally,” said Stafford.
Felgate now came in with his remark.
“Something ought to be done to prevent our house being interfered with by Mr Bickers,” said he; “there are sure to be rows while that lasts.”
“Oh,” said Railsford, who had heard rumours of this feud already; “how are we interfered with?”
“Oh, every way,” replied Ainger; “but we needn’t trouble you about that, sir. We can take care of ourselves.”
“But I should certainly wish to have any difficulty put right,” said the new master, “especially if it interferes with the discipline of the house.”
“It will never be right as long as Mr Bickers stays at Grandcourt,” blurted Stafford; “he has a spite against everyone of our fellows.”
“You forget you are talking of a colleague of mine, Stafford,” said Railsford, whom a sense of duty compelled to stand up even for a master whom he felt to be an enemy. “I can’t suppose one master would willingly do anything to injure the house of another.”
Ainger smiled in a manner which offended Railsford considerably.
“I am sorry to find,” he said, rather more severely, “that my head boys, who ought to aim at the good of their house, are parties to a feud which, I am sure, can do nobody any good. I must say I had hoped better things.”
Ainger looked up quickly. “I am quite willing to resign the captaincy, sir, if you wish it.”
“By no means,” said Railsford, a little alarmed at the length to which his protest had carried him, and becoming more conciliatory. “All I request is that you will do your best to heal the feud, so that we may have no obstacle in the way of the order of our own house. You may depend on me to co-operate in whatever tends in that direction, and I look to you to take the lead in bringing the house up to the mark and keeping it there.”
At this particular juncture further conference was entirely suspended by a most alarming and fiendish disturbance in the room above.
It was not an earthquake, for the ground beneath them neither shook nor trembled; it was not a dynamite explosion, for the sounds were dull and prolonged; it was not a chimney-stack fallen, for the room above was two storeys from the roof. Besides, above the uproar rose now and then the shrill yapping of a dog, and sometimes human voices mingled with the din.
Railsford looked inquiringly at his prefects.
“What is that?” he said.
“Some one in the room above, sir,” replied Barnworth. “It was Sykes’ study last term,” added he, consulting Ainger. “Who’s got it this time?”
“Nobody said anything to me about it,” said the house-captain.
“The room above this is occupied by Herapath and Oakshott,” interposed Railsford.
The captain made an exclamation.
“Did they get your leave, sir?”
“Not exactly; they told me they were going to have the study this term, and I concluded it was all right. Is it not so?”
“They are Shell boys, and have no business on that floor. All the Shell boys keep on the second floor. Of course, they’ll say they’ve got leave.”
“I’m afraid they will think so. Is there any other claimant to the study?”
“No; not that I know of.”
“Perhaps they had better remain for the present,” said the master. “But I cannot imagine what the noise is about. Will you see, Ainger, as you go up?”
This was a broad hint that the merry party was at an end, and no one was particularly sorry.
“Wait a second in my room, you fellows,” said Ainger, on the stairs, “while I go and shut up this row.”
The mystery of this disorder was apparent as soon as he opened the door. The double study, measuring fifteen feet by nine, was temporarily converted into a football field. The tables and chairs were piled on one side “in touch”; one goal was formed by the towel-horse, the other drawn in chalk on the door. The ball was a disused pot-hat of the baronet’s, and the combatants were the two owners of the study versus their cronies and fellow “Shell-fish”—Tilbury, of the second eleven, and Dimsdale, the gossip. There had been some very fine play on both sides, and a maul in goal at the towel-horse end, in which the dog had participated, and been for a considerable period mistaken for the ball. Hinc illae lacrymae.
At the moment when Ainger looked in, Herapath’s side had scored 35 goals against their adversaries’ 29. The rules were strict Rugby, and nothing was wanted to complete the sport but an umpire. The captain arrived in the nick of time.
“Offside, Dim!—wasn’t he, Ainger? That’s a place-kick for us! Hang the dog! Get out, Smiley; go and keep goal. See fair play, won’t you, Ainger?”
To this impudent request Ainger replied by impounding the ball. “Stop this row!” he said peremptorily. “Tilbury and Dimsdale, you get out of here, and write fifty lines each for being off your floor after eight.”
“We only came to ask Herapath what Latin we’ve to do this term; and there’s no preparation for to-morrow.”
“Well, if this is your way of finding out about your Latin, you know just as much up-stairs as down here. Be off; and mind I have the lines before dinner to-morrow.”
The two champions retired disconcerted, leaving the captain to deal with the arch offenders.
“First of all,” said he, “what business have you in this study?”
“Oh, Railsford knows we’re here; we told him, and he didn’t object.”
“Don’t you know you ought to come to the prefects about it?”
Oddly enough, both the boys had completely forgotten.
“Besides,” explained Dig, “as Railsford and Herapath are sort of brother-in-laws, you know, we thought it was all right.”
The reason did not appear very obvious; but the information was interesting.
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” asked the captain. “What relation is he to you?”
“He’s spoons on my sister Daisy.”
The captain laughed.
“I hope she’s like her brother,” said he.
The two culprits laughed vociferously. It was worth anything to them to get the captain in a good-humour.
“Well, if that’s the case,” said Ainger, “I shan’t have anything to do with you. You’ve no right on this floor; you know that. If he chooses to let you be, he’ll have to keep you in order. I don’t pity him in the room underneath.”
“I say, do you think he could hear us easily—when we were playing?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” said the captain, laughing.
“Really! I say, Ainger, perhaps we’d better have a study up-stairs, after all.”
“Thanks; not if I know it. You might pitch over my head instead of his. I suppose, too, he’s allowed you to set up that dog?”
“Yes; it’s a present from Dig’s mother. I say, he’s not a bad-looking beast, is he?”
“Who? Dig? Not so very,” said the captain, quite relieved to be able to wash his hands of this precious couple.
He departed, leaving the two worthies in a state of bewildered jubilation.
“What a splendid lark!” exclaimed Arthur. “We shall be able to do just what we like all the term. There! we’re in luck. Mark thinks Ainger’s looking after us; and Ainger will think Mark’s looking after us; and, Diggy, my boy, nobody will look after us except Smiley—eh, old dog?”
Smiley, who had wonderfully recovered since an hour ago, here made a playful run at the speaker’s heels under the belief that the football had recommenced; and the heart-rending yelps which Railsford heard in the room below a few moments later were occasioned by an endeavour to detach the playful pet’s teeth from the trouser-ends of his owner’s friend.
The Master of the Shell retired to bed that night doubtful about his boys, and doubtful about himself. He was excellent at shutting stable doors after the abstraction of the horses, and could see a blunder clearly after it had been committed. Still, hope sprang eternal in the breast of Mark Railsford. He would return to the charge to-morrow, and the next day, and the next. Meanwhile he would go to sleep.
The discussion in the captain’s room had not been unanimous.
“Well,” said Felgate, when Ainger returned, “how do you like him?”
“I don’t fancy I shall get on with him.”
“Poor beggar!” drawled Barnworth. “I thought he might have been a good deal worse, myself.”
“So did I,” said Stafford. “He was quite shy.”
“No wonder, considering who his visitors were. We were all shy, for the matter of that.”
“And I,” said Felgate, “intend to remain shy. I don’t like the animal. He’s too fussy for me.”
“Just what he ought to be, but isn’t. He’ll let things go on, and make us responsible. Cool cheek!” said Ainger. “However, the row overhead will wake him up now and then. Fancy, young Herapath, unless he’s making a joke, which isn’t much in his line, says Railsford’s engaged to his sister; and on that account the young beggar and his precious chum get leave to have Sykes’ study and do what they like. They may, for all I shall interfere. If it’s a family affair, you don’t catch me poking my nose into it!”
“Engaged, is he?” cried Felgate, laughing. “What a joke!”
“It’s nothing to do with us,” said Barnworth, “whether he is or not.”
“Unless he goes in for favouritism; which it seems he is doing,” said Ainger.
“Well, even so, you’ve washed your hands of young Herapath, and he’s a lucky chap. But having done so, I don’t see what it matters to us how many wives or sweethearts he has.”
“It seems to me,” said Ainger, who was still discontented, “we shall get no more backing from him than we did from Moss. I don’t care twopence about that young ass Herapath; but if the house is to go on as it was last term, and we are to be interfered with by Bickers and nobody to stand up for us, we may as well shut up at once, and let him appoint new prefects.”
“Yes, but are you sure he won’t back us up?” drawled Barnworth. “I’m not a betting man, like Stafford, but I have a notion he’ll come out on our side.”
Ainger grunted sceptically, and announced that he had to unpack; whereat his comrades left him.
Few persons at Grandcourt gave the captain of Railsford’s house credit for being as honest as he was short-tempered, and as jealous for the honour of his house as he was short-sighted as to the best means of securing it. And yet Ainger was all this; and when he went to bed that night Railsford himself did not look forward more anxiously to the opening term than did his first lieutenant.