One boy there was who walked out of that schoolroom as though he were walking in a dream. This was Bailey. It was all wonderful to him. He was watching for an opportunity to fly--he knew not why, he knew not where; but that is by the way. He had only begun to watch an hour or two ago, and here was the opportunity thrust into his hand. He never doubted for an instant that here was the opportunity thrust into his hand.
It was now or never. He had reasons of his own for knowing that when he had left Mecklemburg House he had left boarding-school for ever. He might have a term or two at a day-school, but what was the use of running away from a school of that description? It was heroic to run away from boarding-school, but from day-school--where was the heroic quantity in that? No, it was now or never, and Bertie Bailey resolved it should be now. So in a secluded corner of the playground he matured his adventurous scheme; for even he was not prepared to rush through the playground gate and dash into the world upon the spot.
"I must get some money."
So much he decided. It may be mentioned that he arrived at this decision first of all. It may be added that his consciousness of the desirability of getting money was not lessened by the fact that he possessed none now; no, not so much as a specimen of the smallest copper coinage of the realm.
"I must try to borrow some from some of the chaps." He was aware that this was not a hopeful field. "But a fellow can't go without any money at all; even Mr. Bankes said he had ninepence-halfpenny." He remembered every word which Mr. Bankes had said. "Wheeler had sevenpence, and he promised to lend me twopence, but he's such a selfish beast I shouldn't be surprised if he's changed his mind. Besides, I ought to have more than twopence, or sevenpence, either. Perhaps he might lend me the lot; he's not a bad sort sometimes. Anyhow, I'll try."
He tried. Slipping his arm through Wheeler's he drew him on one side. He approached the matter diplomatically.
"I say, Wheeler, I know you're a trump."
This sort of diplomacy was a mistake; Wheeler was at once on the alert.
"What are you buttering me up for? Don't you think you're going to get anything out of me, because you just aren't; so now you know it."
This was abrupt, not to say a little brutal, perhaps. Bailey perceived the error he had made; he changed his tone with singular presence of mind.