The great 20th day of July had come round at last, and Arthur Herapath was in an unwonted flutter of excitement. For was not this speech-day, and were not Mr and Mrs Herapath and Daisy due by the 9.40 train?

Ever since, a week ago, Arthur had heard that he had run a dead heat for the Swift Exhibition with Smythe of the School-House, he had not known which end of him was uppermost. He envied neither Smedley his gold medal nor Barnworth his Cavendish scholarship. He condoled patronisingly with Ainger on not having quite beaten the captain of the school, and virtually hinted to Wake, who had won the first remove into the Sixth, that, if he cared to come and sit at his feet, he might be able to put him up to a thing or two for Plumtre medal next Christmas.

Sir Digby was scarcely less elevated; for he had won the Sh.e.l.l History prize by a deal of tremendous hard work. And as he had never done such a thing in his life before, he scarcely knew what to make of it.

Fellows told him there must have been an awful shady lot in against him; but that didn't satisfactorily explain the great mystery. Railsford told him it was the reward of downright work; and he inclined to think such was the case himself.

Arthur of course gibed at the idea.

"All gammon," said he. "It's a lucky fluke for you, and I'm glad for your _mater's_ sake. But I wouldn't say too much about it if I were you. It'll make the fellows grin."

"Why should they grin at me any more than you?"

"Well, you see, I was in the running for the Swift. They put it down to me last term, so I was bound to pull it off."

"You only pulled off half of it, you know," said Dig.

Arthur looked not quite pleased at this reference, but laughed it off.

"Oh, of course, I can't object to go halves with young Smythe. If I'd known he was quite so hot on it, I might have spurted a bit more. But I'm glad I didn't, poor young beggar. He'd have been precious cut up to miss it."

"What about that boat on the river?" asked Dig, who did not swallow the whole of this. "Are you going to buy the front or back half of it?"

"Young Oakshott," said Arthur, with all the dignity of a Swift exhibitioner, "don't you make a bigger a.s.s of yourself than you can help."

The term had ended well for Railsford's house. Although restored to their equal rights with the rest of Grandcourt, the spirit of enterprise and achievements which had been born during the troubles of last term survived, and begot an equal spirit in the other houses, who felt their _prestige_ in danger from the bold challenge of these latest aspirants.

The match of Railsford's against the School did not come off; for the Athletic Union, of which Railsford had been chosen president by acclamation, decided to limit the contests to house matches only. But though deprived of an opportunity of a.s.serting themselves against all Grandcourt--which might have been of doubtful benefit--the house beat successively the School-house, Roe's and Grover's houses, and, as everyone had foreseen, ended the term as the crack cricket house of the school.

How they would fulfil their other and more ambitious scheme of becoming the "c.o.c.k house" for studies, remained much longer a doubtful question.

No one of course supposed for a moment they would carry off all the prizes they entered for; and, after the removal of the ban upon the house, it was pretty generally calculated they they would do a great deal less than they would have done under the old order of things.

But Railsford was not the man to allow the house to rest on their oars because of a single success. Surely, he represented, it was not to go out to all the school that Railsford's fellows could only work when they were in a bad temper? Glorious as it would have been to clear the prize list when they were isolated and sulky, it would be still more glorious to show that not less could they do it when they were in good cheer and shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the school. Besides, if they won all the athletic events and none of the scholastic, people would be sure to say any fools can excel in sports if they let all their books go by the board.

Thus Railsford whipped up his house to their great effort, and the result was that to-day's prize list showed that nearly half the honours of the examinations had fallen to Railsford's boys. Not a few there were who looked gloomy that the result was no better. They grudged the school the other half. But there was no gloom on the master's face as he read the list down and saw the reward of his labours.

He was proud, but his pride was not on account of Mark Railsford, as six months ago it might have been, but of every boy, senior and junior, who had put his back gallantly into the work and made a name for the good old house.

But this is a tedious digression to make, while Arthur and the baronet are putting on their Sunday "togs" and brushing up their Sunday "tiles"

preparatory to going down to meet the 9.40 train from London.

They were up to the business; they had done it before; they knew how essential it was to engage half a dozen cabs off different parts of the rank, so as to be sure of getting one; and, not for the first time in their lives they "bagged" three or four porters in advance with a similar object.

The platform, as usual, was full of Courtiers waiting for their "people," and many was the pa.s.sage of arms our Sh.e.l.l-fish engaged in to beguile the time.

"Hullo! here's a lark," said Arthur, presently, when the arrival bell had just sounded, "here's Marky--do you see him? I say! won't he blush when Daisy goes and kisses him before all the fellows!"

"Look out," said the baronet, "here comes the scrimmage."

The train was steaming into the station, and as usual the boys all along the platform began to run; and woe betide those who either did not run too, or were not lucky enough to get a perch on the footboard.

Our young gentlemen were far too knowing to suffer disadvantage through neglect of one or another of these simple expedients.

"Here they are!" yelled Arthur, waving to his chum; "spotted them first shot! Go on, Simson, cut your sticks off this step; these are all my people in here. How are you? Dig's here; we've got a cab. Fetch up some of our porters, Dig, I say."

Amid such effusive greetings Mr and Mrs Herapath and Miss Daisy Herapath alighted and fell into the arms--or rather, civilly shook hands with their son.

"Hullo, Daisy! Marky's here. There he comes. Here she is, Mr Railsford; here's Daisy! I say, Daisy," added he, in a confidential whisper, "you'd better not kiss him before all the fellows. Wait till you get up to our study."

Railsford arrived before this piece of fraternal counsel was ended, and solved the difficulty by quietly shaking hands all round, and asking Mrs Herapath if she had had a comfortable journey.

Arthur had the mortification of seeing five out of his six cabs drive gaily off under his very nose with other fellows' people inside; and his temper was also further ruffled when all his porters waited on him at the door of the sixth for their fee; however, he had the presence of mind to tell them to wait till he came back in the evening, and then, slamming the cab door, hopped up on the box beside the driver--no Grandcourt boy had ever been known to ride inside a four-wheeler with his people--and drove off.

It was a gay scene in the great quadrangle that summer morning--fathers, mothers, sisters, cousins, and aunts were all mixed up in one glorious crowd, with their boys mounting guard over them and introducing them right and left to all the other boys within call.

Mr and Mrs Herapath, like their son, were up to the business, and quietly led the way through the throng towards the hall where the speeches were to be delivered and where, as they knew by experience, it was better to look for a seat too early than too late.

Arthur and Dig, however, were by no means disposed to waste Daisy in so unprofitable an occupation, and therefore haled her off to their study.

Some of us, who know the young lady, are able to excuse the pride with which these two gallant tenders towed their prize into port--for as Dig shared Arthur's study, of course he shared his sister on this occasion.

It wanted a very few dropping and facetious introductions on the way, such as, "Daisy, you know, my sister," or "What cheer, Sherry?--ever hear of Chuckey?" or, "No good, Maple, my boy, bespoke!" to set the rumour going that Daisy Herapath, Marky's "spoon," was come, and was "on show" in Herapath's study.

To her credit be it said, the young lady bore her ordeal with exemplary patience and good-humour. She liked everything she saw. She admired the study so much. What a pretty look-out on the old square--what a luxurious lunch--ah! Arthur had not forgotten her weakness for marmalade--and so on.

The boys voted her a brick; and Arthur went so far as to say he hoped she and Marky would fix it up in time for her to come and be dame of the house before he left.

All this time--would you believe it?--the poor Master of the Sh.e.l.l was sitting in his study, very bashful, and wondering whether he would get a chance of speaking to Daisy during the day at all. She had been spirited away from under his very eyes, in the most truculent manner, by her graceless brother; and it seemed very doubtful whether he would be allowed--

Mrs Hastings at this moment knocked at the door and handed in a dainty little note addressed to "Mark Railsford, Esquire," from the doctor's niece.

"Dear Mr Railsford," wrote Miss Violet, "will you and Miss Herapath join us at lunch before the speeches? I should so like to make her acquaintance.

"Yours truly,--

"Violet Ponsford."

So Railsford, armed with this authority, sallied forth boldly to recapture his Daisy. He thought he knew where to find her, and was not mistaken. The little impromptu lunch was in full swing when he entered the festive study. He had rarely felt so embarra.s.sed, and the manifest excitement of his two pupils at his arrival did not tend to restore him to ease.

And now occurred a wonderful case of presence of mind on the part of two small and tender boys. No sooner had Railsford entered, and somewhat hesitatingly advanced to the table, preparatory to stating his business, than Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, winked at Arthur Herapath, Esquire, and Arthur Herapath, Esquire, kicked Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, under the table; after which both rose abruptly to their feet and bolted from the room, making the corridor echo with their laughter!

They explained afterwards that they wanted to bag front seats for the speeches; and that, no doubt, was a highly satisfactory reason.

At twelve o'clock, when the Earl of Somebody, and Sir Brown Robinson, and the other local celebrities and governors of the school entered the hall, that usually dingy room was packed from end to end by a brilliant and expectant crowd.

The radiant faces of the boys peeped out from among the phalanges of their no less radiant people. The prize boys on the front benches kept up a running fire of talk and cheering; the masters in their gowns beamed right and left, as if all of them put together could not give a fellow a hundred lines if he asked for it; and the college servants, grouped at the doors, smiled as if no cloud had ever ruffled their temper since last speech-day: while the doctor, as he rose, resplendent in his academical robes, and called for silence, looked as if no more solemn question had engaged his attention all the term than the arrangement of his strings and the droop of the scarlet hood on his back.

Then speech-day began. My readers hardly want me to describe so familiar a scene. They will be able to picture to themselves, better than I can picture it for them, how Smedley was cheered when he got up to deliver the English Oration in honour of the old school; and how he blushed and ran short of breath when he came to the quotation from Milton at the end, which had something about a Violet in it!--how, when Ainger rose to give the Greek Speech, his own fellows rose at him amid cries of "Well run, sir!" "Well hit!" "Well fielded!" and cheered every sentence of the Greek, though they had not an idea what it was about--how Barnworth was similarly encouraged through his Latin Oration with cries of "Jump it out!" "One inch more!" mingled sometimes with "False quant.i.ty!" "Speak up, prompter!"--how, after the speechifying was done, the examiners rose and made their reports, which n.o.body listened to and everyone voted a bore.

How, next, Dr Ponsford rose with a rustle of his silk gown, which was heard all over the hall in the dead silence, and proceeded to tell the Earl of Somebody and the other distinguished guests what everybody knew, namely, that the school had now come to the end of another year's work, and etcetera, etcetera. But how, when he took up his list, and the tables containing the prizes were wheeled forward and uncovered, attention once more awoke, the boys on the prize benches settled their cravats, and felt if their hair-partings were all right, and then sat back in their places with a delightful simulation of indifference--