“We should like to know,” said Cresswell, rising, “what the Club will do, when it will meet, and so on?”
“Well,” said Freckleton, “we thought we could get leave to use the library every evening; and, being a Sociable Club we should try to afford to take in a few of the illustrated and other papers, and manage supper together now and then, and make ourselves as comfortable as possible,”—(laughter and cheers, especially from the youngsters). “If we got talent enough in the Club, we might give the school a concert or a dramatic performance now and then, or, in the summer, try our hand at a picnic or a fishing cruise. If Cresswell gets elected himself—and he’d better not be too sure—he’ll find out that the ‘Sociables’ will have a very good idea of making themselves snug.” (Laughter.)
“Is there to be any entrance-fee or subscription?” asked Birket. “We think fellows might be asked to subscribe half-a-crown a term. It’s not very much; and as the juniors usually have twice as much spare cash as we seniors, we don’t think they will shy at the Club for that,”—(loud cheers and laughter from the juniors).
“There’s just one other thing, by the way,” continued the Hermit. “It’s only, perhaps, to be talking about turning fellows out of the Club, but we think we ought to protect ourselves by some rule which will make any member of the Club who does anything low or discreditable to Templeton liable to be politely requested to retire. I don’t mean mere monitors’ rows, of course. Fellows aren’t obliged to get into them, though they do. But I don’t think we ought to be too stiff, and turn a fellow out because he happens to get a hundred lines from Cartwright, for climbing one of the elms. (Laughter, and ‘hear, hear,’ from Cartwright.) He’s no business to climb elms, and it’s quite right to give him lines for it. But as long as he doesn’t do that sort of thing systematically, in defiance of rules, then, I say, let him find some place other than the club-room, to do his lines in—(hear, hear). The fellows the Club will want to protect itself against are the cads and sneaks and cheats, who may be knowing enough to keep square with the monitors, but are neither Select nor Sociable enough for a Club like ours. There, I never made such a long speech in all my life; I’m quite ashamed of myself.”
Templeton forgot its good manners, and cheered loudly at this point.
There was something about the genial, unassuming, straightforward Hermit which touched the fellows on their soft side, and made them accept him with pride as a representative of the truest Templeton spirit. They might not, perhaps, love him as fondly as they loved dear old lazy Ponty, but there was not one fellow who did not admire and respect him, or covet his good opinion.
As soon as silence was obtained, Mansfield rose.
It was a self-denying thing to do, and the Captain knew it. There was very little affection in the silence which fell on the room. He had given up, long since, expecting it. It said much for him that its absence neither soured nor embittered him. It made him unhappy, but he kept that to himself, and let it influence him not a whit in the path of duty he had set before him—a path from which not even the hatred of Templeton would have driven him.
“I’m sure we are all very grateful to Freckleton,” he said. “It will be an honour to anyone to get into the Club, and for those who don’t get on at first, it will be something to look forward to and work for. I don’t think a better set of rules could have been drawn up. It will be a thoroughly representative Club of all that is good in Templeton. It doesn’t favour any one set of fellows more than another. Fellows who are good at work, and fellows who are good at sports have all an equal chance. The only sort of fellows it doesn’t favour are the louts and the cads, and the less they are favoured anywhere in Templeton the better. It’s a shame to trouble Freckleton with more questions, but some of us would like to know when the ballot for the new Club is to take place, and how he proposes we should vote?”
There was a faint cheer as the Captain sat down. Templeton, whatever its likes and dislikes were, always appreciated generosity. And the Captain’s honest, ungrudging approval of a comrade who had already distanced him in the hold he exercised over Templeton, pleased them, and told in the speaker’s favour.