Peter Binney: A Novel

by Archibald Marshall

"Why, I went out to Girton to call on her," said Lucius; "they said she was out."

"Rather lucky," said his cousin. "That's a Miss German with a G. Well, then, you'll come on Tuesday, if you're well enough, at half-past one."

"Yes, I'll come," said Lucius. "Thanks very much."

When his cousin had left him he found that his spirits had lightened considerably. The visit of his friends had cheered him, for he had thought that if he was to fight his father's battles for him he would have to fight them alone, and it was pleasant to find that there were others on his side. And the Newnham girl seemed to be nearer to him, somehow, now he knew that she and his cousin were at the same college. He began to build castles in the air. He knew that his cousin was in her first year, and he thought that if his divinity had been in Cambridge before last term, he must have noticed her; so the two were of the same year, and probably friends. He might get to know her through his cousin—though it was difficult to see how an introduction could be brought about. At any rate he would be able to find out her name, and that was something. He was rather sorry that he had refused the invitation to the Norfolk Rectory at Christmas. He would make up for it by cultivating his cousins now. He comforted himself with rosy visions, and by-and-bye fell asleep. Mr. Binney came in after his afternoon's work on the river was over, and went out again. Dizzy crept in, looked at him, and crept away again on tiptoe. But still Lucius slept on, and when he woke again about nine o'clock he was very much better.

In the meantime the ill-feeling between the boating men and the football players, fanned by Piper's treatment of Lucius, had burnt up to a blaze. When Piper went into hall that night, a little late, there was a chorus of groans and hisses as he passed the table where Mirrilees and Tait sat. He stopped for an instant, and an ugly look came over his face. The groans grew louder, and the dons turned round and looked down the hall from their seats at the high tables. Then Piper went to his place, the noise ceased and the dons, reassured, turned to their dinner. But there were ominous whisperings and glances at the table where Piper sat, and like signs at the table of the boating men nearer the door. The latter finished their dinner early and went out in a body. When they had got outside the door they waited by the college screens. Men who belonged to neither faction dropping out of hall one by one, looked with surprise at such an unexpected gathering, and passed on. Some of them waited outside to see what would happen. Before very long Piper came out, immediately followed by Howden and the rest. He looked black when he saw the waiting crowd, and then there was a curious pause. Bodily violence between fellow-undergraduates is a rare thing unless arising spontaneously from chance collisions of opposing factions. In this case there was plenty of bad feeling, but no hot blood at present, and although both sides were eager for a quarrel, nobody quite knew how to begin it. After a moment's pause Piper went on towards the steps leading down to Neville's Court. He looked a very ugly customer. Although Lucius had not succeeded in doing him a fraction of the damage which he himself had received, Piper had not got off quite unmarked. He had a black eye and a swollen cheek bone. His temper was up, too, and he was probably nearer the state of mind when a fight is a relief than any one there.

"Ugly bruiser!" remarked Tait as he passed.

Piper faced him instantly. "What's that, sir!" he asked angrily.

"I said you were an ugly bruiser, sir."

Piper aimed a savage blow at him before the words were well out of his mouth. Tait had just time to parry it. There was no need for any further introduction. Exactly where they were, with startled waiters going to and fro from the kitchens to the hall, and the intermittent stream of undergraduates passing through, the two parties fell upon one another, and the noise of the combat rose above the clatter of plates and the muffled swinging of the heavy doors, and reached the dons on the daïs at the other end of the hall. "Put him in the fountain," shouted Mirrilees, and the struggling mass surged slowly out of the doorway and down the shallow flight of steps into the Great Court. Blood was up now and there was no lack of sincerity in the blows that were given and taken. Little groups of disinterested spectators looked on at the strange spectacle of men of the same college, most of them well known throughout the University for their prowess in different branches of sport, fighting fiercely, and gradually drawing nearer to the great stone fountain which rears its stately mass from one of the grass plots. The boating men had a slight advantage in numbers, but the footballers were, with some few exceptions, a heavier lot, and progress was slow. Piper fought savagely and disabled one or two of the men who were dragging him along, while his friends were mostly engaged in a series of single combats round him. There is no knowing how the battle would have ended. In spite of their slightly superior force it is doubtful whether Mirrilees's and Tait's party could have succeeded in inflicting the punishment on Piper which they intended. But before they reached the fountain a little party of dons who had been apprised of what was going on came running down the steps of the hall towards the struggling and swaying mass. They were led by the Senior Dean. "Stop this, gentlemen, stop this," he shouted, as he reached them. A few of them stopped irresolutely. The rest paid no attention to the order. It is doubtful if they heard it. The Senior Dean, who was a man of resolution, threw himself among them, followed by one or two of his companions. At first there was no result, except that dons and undergraduates were mixed up together in one general mêlée. But gradually the voice and energetic action of authority began to tell. First one left off fighting and then another, until Piper and the men who had got hold of him were the only ones still left. Deprived of the assistance of his backers, Piper was carried with a little run right up to the steps of the fountain, but there the Dean and a few stalwart Fellows who were helping him managed to stop them by sheer force, and the fight ceased, leaving a dishevelled panting crowd of combatants facing one another, with the stern figure of judicial vengeance master of the field. Names were taken, orders given, and the crowd slowly dispersed. The boating men held the conviction that if they had been left alone they would have done what they meant to do and avenged the defeat Piper had administered to Lucius. At any rate they had given him a lesson which he wouldn't forget in a hurry. The football men made a great deal of the fact that they had been overpowered by superior numbers. They were also greatly cheered by the conviction that they had given their opponents something that they wouldn't forget in a hurry.

The sequel to the fracas was rather curious. It resulted in an entire healing up of the feud that had arisen, no one quite knew how, for it dated from before the issue of the New Court Chronicle. These quarrels between two sets of men are rare in the University, but they sometimes arise and continue for a year or so and then die away. This one would have disappeared slowly in due course, because no two sets of men can be said to be absolutely clear and distinct one from another, but are merged at some points by friendships between their respective members. But, the matter having been brought to a head by the quarrel between Lucius and Piper, and the bad blood let off, the ill-feeling disappeared as if by magic, and men who had fought with one another on that night by the fountain might have been seen in one another's rooms later on in the term the best of friends.