“So it is; that’s just where we began, too,” said Tom, philosophically. And, as a matter of fact, whenever these young gentlemen of the Fifth started the subject of Greenfield senior among themselves, they always found themselves in the end at the identical place from which they had set out.
Nor were they the only boys at Saint Dominic’s in this dilemma. The Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles were equally taken aback by the new aspect of affairs. These young gentlemen had looked upon Oliver’s “row” with his class as a peculiar mercy designed specially for their benefit. They had hardly known such a happy time as that during which the row had lasted. Did they want a pretext for a battle? Greenfield senior was a glorious bone of contention. Did they want an object for an indignation meeting? What better object could they have than Greenfield senior? Did they want an excuse generally for laziness, disobedience, and tumult? Greenfield senior served for this too. Indeed, the name of the Fifth Form Martyr had passed into a household word among the lower school, either of glory or reproach, and round it the small fry rallied, as round an old flag of battle.
But now, both friend and foe were aghast. To the Guinea-pigs half the charm of their position had been that they were Greenfield senior’s sole champions in all Saint Dominic’s. While every one else avoided him, they stuck to him, week-days and Sundays. Now, however, they discovered, with something like consternation, that they no longer had the field to themselves.
The sight of Greenfield senior walking down the passage one day, arm-in-arm with Wraysford, and the next day with one arm in Wraysford’s and the other in Pembury’s, and the day after between Pembury and Bullinger, with Wraysford and Stephen in the rear, struck bewilderment and bitter jealousy to their hearts.
They had come out into the passage to cheer, but they went away silently and sadly, feeling that their very occupation was departed.
Bramble, always quick to see a chance, took advantage as usual of this panic.
“Hullo, I say, Guinea-pigs, you can shut up shop now, you know. We’re going to let off Greenfield senior this time, ain’t we, Padger? Jolly fellow, Greenfield senior.”
This was abominable! To have their hero and idol thus calmly taken out of their hands and appropriated by a set of sneaking Tadpoles was more than human patience could endure!
“Bah! A lot he’ll care for your letting him off!” exclaimed Paul, in dire contempt. “He wouldn’t touch you with a shovel.”
“Oh, yes, he would, though, wouldn’t he, Padger? And what do you think, Guinea-pigs? we’re going to get Greenfield senior to take the chair at one of our meetings!”