Tears came into my eyes; but not with pain. It was at the happy consciousness that at last I had come across some one who really cared for me personally. Uncle George’s scanty amount of affection for me was due to the fact of my being his brother’s child, while Molly, the maid-servant, the only one else who had ever evinced any kindly feeling towards me, had been actuated by pity for my forlorn and neglected condition amongst my own kindred; but Tom was my very own friend, mine by choice and selection. Had he not singled me out and taken my part, besides asking me to be his comrade? That alone would have made me his staunch ally, even without the proffer of his friendship; so, needless to say, I vowed there and then my fealty as his chum through thick and thin!
Presently, Tom took me round to a side door of the house, through which admittance was gained to the kitchen, where, procuring some water, he helped me to stop the bleeding from my nose, caused by Slodgers’ blow, and otherwise wash away the traces of the combat. We subsequently returned to the “playground,” Tom saying that we could remain there if we liked until the tea-bell rang, as it was a half-holiday, and there were no more lessons for the day.
The other boys had mostly gone in by this time, disappearing in batches of twos and threes, tired of being out in the bare yard, and having exhausted all attempts at amusing themselves. We remained here over an hour longer, walking up and down, exchanging confidences and forming the most wonderful plans of what we would do together bye-and-bye, not only while at school, but when we grew up and went into the world. I, of course, told him all about my cruel bringing-up under Aunt Matilda’s auspices, and he imparted the information that he was almost an orphan like myself; his father, who was a clergyman, having died early and left his widowed mother with a large number of children to support on a scanty income; whence the fact of his being at such a poor second-rate school as Dr Hellyer’s, about which Tom then proceeded to unfold the most wonderful revelations.
The master, he said, in spite of his generally having thirty boys at least, from whom he managed to get an income of six hundred a year or so, was always in hard straits, and at his wit’s end for money; although, apparently, he could not have any great expenditure, the rent of the house or houses occupied by the school being cheap, his cost for the aid of masters not by any means excessive, and the boys’ keep not too extravagant, judging by the meals they had. Dr Hellyer was “an ignorant, uncultivated brute,” Tom averred, and his degree of “Doctor” was only derived from the fact of his having paid ten dollars to an American university to air this specious prefix to his scholastic name!
The whole school, my new friend told me, was a sham, for, instead of there being some dozen of masters, as stated in the prospectus sent to Uncle George, there were only two besides “The Doctor”—Mr Smallpage, the mathematical master, called by the boys “Smiley,” on the lucus a non lucendo principle, I suppose, because his face ever bore an expression of gravity; and Monsieur Achile Phélan, professor of foreign languages and dancing, christened by Tom Larkyns “The Cobbler,” on account of his teaching a certain number of extra-paying pupils how to “heel and toe.”
Whatever was the reason for “The Doctor’s” hardupishness, however, the fact was undeniable; and Tom said that for weeks at a time the establishment would be in a state of siege, from tradespeople coming after their “little accounts,” which the master put off settling as long as he could. The old woman who had opened the door to me, my chum stated, was popularly believed to be the principal’s maternal relative, as she kept a watchful eye upon the portal, besides presiding over the interior economy of the school. She was so sharp, Tom averred, that she could smell a “dun,” experience having so increased the natural keenness of her scent.
Sometimes, too, Tom said, when Dr Hellyer could get no credit with the butcher, they lived on Australian tinned mutton, which he got wholesale from the importers, as long as three months at a stretch; and once, he pledged me his word, when the baker likewise failed to supply any more bread by reason of that long-suffering man’s bill not having been paid for a year, Dr Hellyer, not to be beaten, went off to Portsmouth and bought a lot of condemned ship biscuits at a Government sale in the victualling yard, returning with this in triumph to the school, and serving it out to the pupils in rations, the same as if they had been at sea!
In the midst of all these interesting disclosures, a terrible drumming, buzzing noise filled the air.
“What’s that din?” I asked Tom.
“Oh, that’s the tea-gong,” he replied. “We must go in now, as we’ll get none if we are late, for the Doctor teaches punctuality by example.”