The sequel proved the correctness of Berry’s prophecy. Old John sought his bell-rope punctually at seven, as usual, rang away steadily for three minutes, and then retired to his den to commence his never-ending job of shoe-cleaning. One or two boys awoke from sheer habit, but, hearing no bell, went to sleep again. The rest slumbered peacefully on, little thinking to whom they owed their unwonted repose.
The whole household were asleep. The big bell was the signal for rising to every one, servants included, with the exception of John and his wife. Her duty was to light the schoolroom fires, after which she retired to her own part of the house to prepare her husband’s breakfast. These two almost useless pensioners on the doctor’s bounty inhabited two rooms apart from the rest of the house.
How long every one would have slept can not be known, perhaps till nine, for when one depends on a bell for waking, one waits for the accustomed sound. But dogs are not like human beings, and Fido, who always had his breakfast at eight, began making a great disturbance at a quarter past.
Fido woke his mistress, the doctor’s wife. She looked at her watch—8:15. She was surprised beyond measure, as there was a strange silence everywhere. But the clock on the mantelpiece confirmed her watch, and two minutes later bells were ringing in a manner which brought the servants out of their beds with a jump.
By half-past eight, every one, boys and all, had been awakened, informally, for the bell refused to make a sound. John was summoned, and was at last made to understand what was the matter. He asseverated warmly that he had rung the bell, and went on a tour of inspection. He found the tongue on the ground, and obtaining a ladder from the gardener, next door, fastened it in its place again before it was time to ring for school.
“Never had such a gorgeous sleep in my life,” said Millward, warmly, to Berry. “We’ll vote you a silver tankard as a reward of merit.”
“Pity the trick can’t be played twice,” remarked Culverwell. “They don’t seem to suspect anything this time, but if it were to happen again, there’d be an inquisition.”
Berry heaved a regretful sigh. It was hard to think that at seven next morning the inexorable bell would toll out as usual the knell of departing night.
Something that day put him in a peculiarly reckless mood. More than that, he did not get his usual afternoon nap; he was disturbed by an inconsiderate master, who wanted to know when his exercises were going to be handed in to him. So five o’clock found Berry ready for any deed requiring more cheek than usual.
The bell! It struck him directly after he had written his last line. Whatever might happen, he would have one more good sleep.