“It is a sad thing,” he said, “but a new boy with a five-pound note is far more popular at school than one without. If I were you I should blow a part of it at the tuck-shop and do your pals a midnight feast.” Privately he remarked to Mr. Rendall, “That boy is woefully fragile. I have some doubt as to whether you are wise in sending him to a boarding school. You should drop the headmaster a line saying he’ll want special care.”
“I have already done so,” remarked Mr. Rendall, with a somewhat sardonic smile. “If you are passing the box you might post a letter for me.”
Clem took the letter and said good-bye. He was about to drop it in the pillar-box when a curious doubt assailed him. Therefore, although to do so was entirely foreign to his nature, he broke the seal and scanned the contents.
“Oh, no, Robert,” he observed to himself, “most emphatically not. We’ll give the boy a fair chance by your leave.”
And accordingly he posted the letter, torn in many pieces, through the grating of a convenient sewer.
III
Wynne arrived at Wyckley in all the rush and turmoil of a new term. The boys had so many confidences to impart regarding their holiday exploits, that his presence was not observed until after tea. Consequently he had leisure to dispose his belongings and take a walk round the schoolrooms and playgrounds.
What he saw was new and interesting. The high bookcases, crammed with scholastic literature, impressed him with the majesty of learning. The laboratory with its glass retorts and shelves of chemical compounds bespoke the infinite latitude of science. Least of all did he care for the studio, in which the drawing classes were held. The cubes, pyramids, cones and spheres did not appear to bear any relation to art as he saw it. His being craved for something more organic, and was not satisfied even by the bas-reliefs of ivy and hedge-roses. To him these were trivial matters of little concern which might well be omitted from an educational program. The main hall, with its platform and organ, its sombre lighting and heavily trussed roof, gave him far greater satisfaction. In such semi-dark surroundings he felt that an eager soul might well acquire illumination.
The terraces outside were correct and ordinary, the yellow gravel and the deep green grass were too familiar to attract attention; accordingly he passed to the rear of the building and explored what lay beyond. Here he discovered many fives courts—some football grounds, complete with nasty little pavilions, and a swimming bath. Further investigation disclosed a fowl-run and some pigs grunting contentedly in a well-kept sty. Wynne found these far more to his liking, and was further interested to learn that a pig will devour a piece of brick, with apparent relish, provided it has been given to him by the hand of man.
From this circumstance he was about to draw some interesting theories on life, and probably would have done so had it not been for the compelling note of a bell. This bell betokened the arrival of tea, some one had warned him of that; they had also warned him on no account to be late, so he made his way, hands in pockets, toward the big dining-room. A large number of eyes assessed him as he entered, and he bore their scrutiny without flinching. Oddly enough he was aware of an agreeable satisfaction arising from their attention, and returned stare for stare in excellent good part. Presently some one directed him to a place at the table where he found himself with other fresh arrivals.