When once Mr. Chowdler was started, he passed from one story to another without a halt. Mr. Flaggon was conscious that the anecdotes were being related not to him but at him. However, he smiled when a smile seemed to be expected, and looked impressed where it was obviously the right thing to look impressed. But, when his host concluded the fifteenth story with the remark, “And I think it’s such a splendid idea that the old traditions are being planted, with the old flag, far away over the water, in Saskatchewan,” he could not help saying:
“Don’t you think it would be better, perhaps, if the Colonies were allowed to create their own traditions and their own ideals? If there is to be development, there must be new forms; and I always hope that the colonies will have something new to teach us some day.”
Mr. Chowdler did not agree, and he said so in words which produced another awkward pause; and Mr. Beadle once more came to the rescue by remarking:
“I suppose that they are very keen about education in Wales?” Which showed that Mr. Beadle had been making a study of the new headmaster’s previous history.
When the marble clock on the mantelpiece pointed to eleven, Mr. Flaggon rose to go. A day with Dr. Gussy, and an evening spent in the company of Mr. Chowdler, had induced an unusual feeling of weariness. He and his host shook hands at parting with every outward appearance of friendliness; but, as he walked home under the dripping trees to the Prætorium, as Dr. Gussy’s house was called, he was conscious that, amongst the many problems that he would have to face at Chiltern, Mr. Chowdler would almost certainly be one of the most difficult.
CHAPTER III
EXIT DR. GUSSY
The last fortnight of the Term was largely devoted to saying good-bye to Dr. Gussy. It was traditional at Chiltern for a headmaster to be received with curses and dismissed with blessings; and an unwritten law required that, as his last Term drew to a close, words of ill-omen should become few and fewer. During the last fortnight, even Mr. Chowdler gave up speaking of “silly old Fussy” and substituted “poor old Gussy,” or, more rarely, “dear old Gussy.”
Dr. Gussy had never identified himself very closely with the life of the school, nor allowed himself to become absorbed in its daily happenings; his youngest daughter probably knew far more about the inner life of Chiltern than he did, and could address by their nicknames boys of whom her father had some difficulty in recalling the surname. Outside interests had taken him frequently from Chiltern, and the branch line (like all branch lines) made it easier to leave Chiltern than to get back to it. He had often missed important matches, his place had frequently been empty at Sunday chapels, and he had been known to confuse the identity of important people. A current story, of which there were many variations, made him address the senior fag of Mr. Cox’s house as the junior master on the staff. But his rule was mild and his nature unsuspicious; so he had always enjoyed a fair measure of popularity, and, during his last fortnight, he was positively worshipped.
Dr. Gussy himself was quite unconscious of any sins of omission. He was fond of boasting that Chiltern was a school that “ran itself”; and, as a proof of its good discipline and high moral tone, he would say, proudly, “For the last seven years I haven’t had to expel a single boy—not a single boy.”
This record greatly impressed anxious parents, and had attracted to the school several sons of the titled plutocracy, whose sensitive natures required considerate and tactful handling rather than the rough and ready methods in vogue elsewhere. Dr. Gussy was proud of the distinguished names that figured on his school lists, and never had Chiltern been more popular or more prosperous than during the last seven years of his reign.