Tomkins wasn’t. Cork’s zeal quite put him off. Tomkins began to lose his nerve, and Rolland beat him all along the line.
Cork was quite embittered by Tomkins’ failure. ‘Oh, yes, Tomkins,’ he said one day, ‘you can oil all right when it’s only to please yourself, but when it’s a question of twelve bob for me you simply foozle everything. You did a rotten rep. this morning. Your father’s a Baptist, isn’t he? Well, by gum! if you don’t come out top I’ll baptise you.’
Tomkins murmured nervously that his father was Church of England.
Cork sat next to Mr. Strange at lunch, and on the fatal Sunday he did his best to pump Mr. Strange. ‘Has Tomkins come out top?’ he pleaded wistfully. ‘I should so like to know, sir.’
‘My dear Cork,’ said Mr. Strange, ‘I can’t make you out. You don’t usually condescend to take the least interest in your work or anybody else’s. What’s in the wind?’
Cork was understood to say that the honour of the house was very dear to him, and that while he was doing his best for the house at footer, he expected Tomkins as the star scholar to do his best for the house in school. Mr. Strange asked him if he was feeling the heat.
That afternoon a murmur of excitement ran round the form-room when Mr. Strange appeared. Besides the sweepstake, most of the Lower Fifth had contracted a number of side-bets on the result of the Fortnightly Order. Tomkins and Rolland both carried money, and for the first time in their school careers their respective achievements were a matter of general interest. Cork had despaired of Tomkins, and had vainly tried to ‘sell’ him for half a crown. But there were no offers.
Glover and Taylor, who had both been working a little harder and cribbing a great deal more thoroughly, were each convinced that they had beaten the other. Five to four against either of them was freely quoted. Glover was sure that Taylor would be bottom and that he would therefore win the prize allotted to the lucky drawer of the bottom man. Taylor was no less confident that Glover would occupy that ignoble position.
Mr. Strange glanced round the room before beginning to read out the Order, and remarked drily, ‘I am flattered, but a little surprised, at the sudden interest which some of you seem to be taking in the Form Order. This is such a contrast to your usual attitude of bland indifference that I really wonder whether you’ve been betting on it. The only objection to this theory is that I don’t suppose for a moment that any of you consider your school work of sufficient importance to risk a spare sixpence on it.’
Mr. Strange, it will be seen, was a cynic. Only cynics understand boys.