“Ring the bell for the high jump,” said Railsford, turning his back. At the signal the whole company closed in a solid phalanx round the poles. For the high jump was one of the great events of the day. Mr Bickers became mixed up in the crowd, and saw that it was hopeless to attempt further parley. He turned on his heel, and the fellows made a lane for him to pass out. As he got clear, and began slowly to retreat to his own house, the boys raised a loud defiant cheer. But whether this was to hail his departure or to greet the appearance of Barnworth and Wake, ready stripped for the fray, it would be difficult to say. But whichever it was, Mr Bickers seemed by no means discomfited. He turned and caught sight of the head and shoulders of his rival towering among his boys, and he smiled to himself and tapped the letter in his hand.
“Not a moment to spare!” said he to himself. “Good. We can wait. You may not be in such a hurry to get rid of me when you do read it; and your dear boys may change their minds about their hero, too,” added he, as a fresh cheer, mingled with a “Huzza for Railsford,” was wafted across the fields.
Chapter Fifteen.
Mr Bickers prefers the Door to the Window.
The history of the great events of Railsford’s sports were so faithfully chronicled at the time by Arthur Herapath in a long letter to his sister Daisy, that it would be presumption on my part, with that valuable document lying before me, to attempt to narrate in my own words what has been so much more vivaciously described by my young friend. Arthur was great at letter-writing, especially to his sister. And there is small doubt that, with the aid of a slang dictionary and a little imagination on her own part, that sympathetic young person was usually able to catch the drift of her young brother’s rollicking lucubrations.
“Dear Da. Thanks awfully for the bob.”
A good many of Arthur’s letters began with this curious observation. Whether this particular “bob” had reference to Railsford’s testimonial or not, the writer cannot speak positively.
“We had a ripping time at our sports, and licked all the records but three. No end of a crow for us. The School’s tearing its hair all over the place, and our fellows have been yelling for two days without stopping. It’s a jolly good job that row about Bickers came on when it did, as our chaps would never have pulled themselves together as they did without it. Nobody wants to find the chap out now; so your particular is all serene up to now, and I don’t mean to drip and spoil his game.” (We wonder what Daisy made of this curious sentence when she read it!) “Dig and I were awfully riled we hadn’t got you down for the sports, and I wanted Marky to wire up for you and put them off till you came. As it was, it didn’t matter a bit, for Miss Violet showed up like a trump as she is, and backed us up; so it’s just as well you hadn’t come. Violet nodded to me! She’s the most beautiful girl in the world. Smedley turned up too; brickish, wasn’t it? Bickers of course came, and tried to spoil our sports, but Marky gave him a flea in his ear, and Dig and I howled; so he didn’t stay long.