Digby Heathcote: The Early Days of a Country Gentleman's Son and Heir

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Poor Digby could not very well refuse; at the same time he did not see exactly why the bully should eat up his marmalade.

The breakfast set was composed of very heterogeneous materials; plates were decidedly scarce, and the tea was drunk out of tin cups, and mugs, and pannikins, while some of the little fellows had to content themselves with ink-glasses, which gave rather a strong flavour to their beverage. The weather itself was warm, and the fire, and the number of boys shut up in the room, increased the heat till the closeness became very unpleasant; but they were afraid of opening the windows to let in any air, lest some of the masters might find their way in also at the same spot. The only light they had was through a few round holes in the upper part of the shutters.

When breakfast was over they began to consider what they should do. It was much too hot to play any active games. Some of the younger fellows proposed high-cockolorum and leap-frog; but they made so much dust and noise that it was not very pleasant work even to themselves, and the bigger fellows ordered them to desist, and sent a shower of books at their heads to enforce the order. Hop-scotch met with a like fate. A few tried marbles, but there was scarcely light for the purpose, and ring-taw was quickly abandoned. Others endeavoured to read amusing books to pass the time, but the dim light which fell on the page scarcely enabled them to distinguish the letters; and, besides, they found all sorts of tricks played them by those who had no literary turn, and always objected to see one of their companions take up a book. Digby persevered with the “Swiss Family Robinson,” which he had not had time to look into since the evening of his arrival, and finished it in spite of the heat and the variety of interruptions he underwent. When Digby read a work of fiction he read heartily, with his whole mind in the book, and nothing made him so savage as to be interrupted, and called back into the commonplace work of every-day life. A considerable number of fellows put their heads on their pillows in corners, and on benches, and went to sleep.

Thus the morning passed away. How different was all this calm and quiet to the fierce onslaught they had expected. They had fancied that the masters would have been thundering at the door with battering-rams, or climbing up at the windows and endeavouring to force their way in. Some even fancied that they would have appeared with muskets and pistols, and fired in upon them, or, if not, hurled stones in on their heads. Then they had vividly pictured the way in which they would have sheltered themselves with their pillows, and hurled back their lexicons, and grammars, and graduses, and delectuses, and other books, at the heads of their assailants. All that would have been very fine, and exciting, and delightful. Who would have cared for the bruises and blows they would have received? Black eyes, and even broken limbs, would have been things to have gloried in in so noble a cause. But this quiet, this perfect ignoring their very existence, was very trying. Not even a message sent to them; not a request to know what they wanted, or to beg them to return to their duty, was perplexing in the extreme. Some proposed that somebody should go out and reconnoitre; but who was to go was the question.

“It is very easy to say go,” observed Paul Newland; “but who is to go, I should like to know. Will Scarborough, then? He ought to go, I am sure. We have too long been made catspaws of in this matter; and though I do not counsel giving in, I say that some of the big fellows should bear the risk and expense, which they have hitherto not done.”

Paul had by some means or other discovered how things had been managed, and was resolved to speak out plainly. Scarborough looked daggers at him, and would have knocked him down had he dared.

“I have one thing to say,” observed the bully; “I recommend you fellows not to quarrel among yourselves. For my own part, I wish to be at peace with all the world, and am now going to have a pipe. Who will join me?”

Several big fellows, as well as Spiller and Julian Langley, said they would, and soon the room was filled with tobacco smoke, which not a little increased its unpleasantness.

“Swipes, swipes!” sung out Scarborough in a short time, and from some secret recess bottles of ale and porter were produced, the contents rapidly disappearing down their throats. Then they sang, and insisted on all the other fellows coming round and singing in turn. Probably they would have made them drink also, but that they wished to preserve the liquor for themselves.

There were about a dozen fellows thus occupied; at of them, with the exception of Julian Langley and Spiller, great, big, hulking lads, and the two latter were forward in vice and knowledge of what is bad in the world. Dinner-hour came. As if to mock them, the dinner-bell rang as usual. Those who were not smoking and drinking began to get very hungry, and to cry out for food. They only, however, got abuse from Scarborough, who had now thrown off all disguise, and assumed the dictatorship.