He had nothing to do on Sundays. Yet he tried to regulate his drinking. He made appointments with himself. “At half past three I will have another....” But sometimes he forgot and had another too early. “It keeps off the mosquitoes,” he thought.
One of the big Portuguese boys from his class was standing in the doorway. “Please, Mistah Weelims....”
“Have a drink,” said Edward. He thought the boy looked rather beautiful; his black hair was so thick and shining; it was brushed like a smooth breaking wave.
Before suppertime there were six boys in Edward’s room. “If you fellers would only behave decently in class,” said Edward, feeling like a man of the world surrounded by his friends, “we’d have s’more parties like this....”
Edward stayed at the school for a month. The boys were almost fatherly to him. Edward ceased to assert authority. His system was based entirely on bribes. The system seemed to answer. Only once during the month the headmaster sent a note to ask that less noise be made in Class C. That was when a boy hid behind the blackboard and over-turned it upon Edward. This amused even the good boys.
“A joke’s a joke,” said Edward with tears in his eyes. The blackboard had shaken tears into his eyes. Two of the big boys had their arms around his neck, were roaring yells of laughter into his ear. “This joke’s certainly on me. Oh, come now, go easy.” He was straining after laughter. He thought, “That’s the way to take boys, no frills, no airs....” He thought he was fond of the boys. He knew they were not fond of him. He was terribly afraid of them. The note from the headmaster was handed to him.
“A letter from Daisy ... he says we’re making too much noise, fellers.”
He did not drink much in the day-time. Whisky in such hot weather made him tremble, made him unable to bear the noise and difficulty of the class room. But after dinner, when at least it was dark and one could pretend that the heat was lifted, he drank a good deal and was comforted. But he saved a great deal of his salary. He thought he would look for an opportunity to leave. He would be ill; it was quite easy for him to seem ill. He would be obliged to go and see a great American doctor in Peking about his hearing. He had been engaged for three months, in the absence on sick leave of one of the regular teachers, but he had no sense of responsibility to the school. His brain was full of prospective interviews with the headmaster. “I suffer terribly with my ears and my sinuses. I have just had a most dangerous operation. I need hardly say it will be a matter of real regret to me to leave the dear boys....” The headmaster would say, “Of course, of course, I quite understand.” Edward had not only no objection to telling lies, he even failed as a rule to notice how broadly he lied.
He did not have a chance to excite the sympathy of the headmaster. He was turned out of the school one Sunday.
Sunday was his day without fear, and when he was on duty on Sunday afternoons, he drank a great deal. His last Sunday passed like a dream; he had no fear except the fear of the week to come. He was aware that he was to preside at the supper of the boarders. The half-dozen big boys who had been “sharing the party” thought he had forgotten. Edward laughed at this idea. The big boys shepherded him downstairs to the dining room; they linked their arms with his in facetious tenderness. It was absurd, Edward thought. His mind was quite clear and serene. He knew that he would have to say grace. The boys’ food was very bad—the boys told him so. How absurd to say grace over a bad meal. Indeed it was blasphemy. He would be honest. He would be witty. What a curious perspective of white faces along the tables. The boys spoiled the austerity of the perspective by wearing different-colored clothes.