It was a rambling, patronising effusion, in his usual style; but every word of it, in my present plight, had a sting for me.
“It’s a pity you’re not here,” wrote he; “it’s a ripping place. Everything about the place is ripping except the drilling master and the dumplings on Mondays, which are both as vile as vile can be. I’m in the upper fifth, and shall probably get my ribbon and perhaps my house after summer. Plummer’s was regular tomfooling to this. We’ve a match on with Rugby this term, and I’m on the reserve for the Eleven. I suppose you know young Brown is coming here; though I’m sorry to say as a day boy. His people are going to live in the town, so he’ll be able to come on the cheap. I shall do what I can for him, but I expect he’ll have a hot time, for the day boys are rather small beer. The exhibitioners have the best time of it. If Brown could get a junior exhibition and live in school, he could fag for me and have a jolly time. But poor Dicky hasn’t got it in him. I got rather lammed after I got home from Plummer’s; but it was all right when Plummer wrote to say that a burglar had shot the dog, and he was sorry there had been a mistake, and hoped I’d go back. Catch me! It’s better fun here—as much cricket as you like, and a river, and gymnasium, and all sorts of sprees. It wouldn’t be half bad if you were here, kid; but I suppose you’re a young gent with a topper and a bag at your guardian’s office. I hope it suits you—wouldn’t me—” and so on.
How this letter made me long to be at Low Heath, and how it made me realise what an ass I had been to go in for that crib! I really felt too bad to go that day to Miss Steele, even if she would have let me! and wandered about cudgelling my brains how on earth I could get her to take me back again.
She wouldn’t believe my protestations, I knew; but she might believe deeds, not words.
So I shut myself up in my room and took down my arithmetic, and worked out sum after sum all off my own bat, till my brain reeled and I could hardly distinguish one figure from another. Some I knew were wrong, others I hoped were right; all were bonâ fide. I stuck to it till nearly midnight, and then, merely writing my name on the top, put them into an envelope, under the flap of which I wrote, “I’ve burnt the crib. Try me this once,” and posted them to my offended teacher.
No answer came for twenty-four hours, which I spent on pins and needles, working away frantically during my leisure hours, and occupying part of my business time in personally avenging an insult offered to Miss Steele’s name by one of my guardian’s junior clerks. I wished she could have seen me. I got a terrible blow on the eye, but I gave him two, and caused him to regret audibly that he had spoken disparagingly of my cruel fair.
Next morning a note came to my mother.
“Please tell your boy I shall be in this afternoon.”
In fear and trembling I presented myself, and confronted not Miss Steele but Miss Bousfield, who addressed me in terse and forcible language, and gave me to understand that I was a person of extremely second-rate character and attainments. I acknowledged it, but hoped for an opportunity of improving her impressions.
“I shall leave it to Miss Steele to do as she thinks best,” said the head mistress. “I am sorry indeed her time has been wasted over a worthless pupil. You had better wait till she comes.”