The next morning I tumbled out of bed at the call of the bell in no very light-hearted way. First of all, Crofter would receive my letter; secondly, I had still got Redwood’s belt; thirdly, I had not done my preparation; and fourthly, I felt concerned about Tempest and his alliance with the expensive Wales. Strangely enough, this last trouble weighed on me most as I dressed.
Tempest, I knew, was not well off. But he was proud, and not the sort of fellow to shirk a thing on account of the cost. I could remember at Dangerfield his spending all his money at the beginning of the term on an absurdly expensive cricket bag, and having to go without spikes in his shoes because he could not afford a set. At Low Heath, where seniors were allowed to run up bills in certain shops, I was certain his ignorance about money matters, added to the friendly encouragements of an exquisite like Wales, would make it all the worse for him. Why, even I knew more about money than he did, and could reckon that if I brought thirteen shillings up at the beginning of the term, I should have just a shilling a week to bless myself with till break-up. Whereas he, I verily believe, would consider that he had thirteen shillings a week. And the worst of it was he would never let any one know how hard up he was, or tolerate any remarks, except from a privileged chum like Pridgin, on the subject.
As I joined my comrades in the faggery, in the fond hope of snatching a precious quarter of an hour for my neglected studies, I found great excitement and jubilation afoot. The printer had sent home the handbills of the Conversation Club.
“That ought to do our business,” said Langrish, flourishing one of the documents in my face.
I took it, and read it with mingled pride and concern. It ran as follows:—
Under the distinguished Patronage of the Nobility and Gentry of Low Heath:
A Philosophical Conversation Club has been started for conversation on Philosophy, Picnics, and Cross-country Runs. Meetings weekly; to be announced. Subscription: Two shillings in advance; every member to find himself. No town-boys or masters eligible. “Come in your hundreds!!! No questions asked. Evening dress or flannels. The Inaugural Picnic next week. Particulars on receipt of subscription. No connection with any other so-called club in Low Heath! For further particulars apply to the following:
Sarah Jones, Esquire, Pr.Ph.C.C, President.
Ted Langrish, Esquire, S.Ph.C.C, Secretary.
Wilfred Trimble, Esquire, T.Ph.C.C, Treasurer.
Jos. Warminster, Esquire, L.Ph.C.C, Librarian.
Tom Coxhead, Esquire, A.Ph.C.C, Auditor.
Michael Purkis, Esquire, R.Ph.C.C, Registrar.
P.S.—As the membership is strictly limited to 500, early application is advised. No eligible cash offer refused! Our motto is “Mens sano in corpore sanae.”
I naturally bridled up at the record of my own name.