"No wonder, considering who his visitors were. We were all shy, for the matter of that."

"And I," said Felgate, "intend to remain shy. I don't like the animal.

He's too fussy for me."

"Just what he ought to be, but isn't. He'll let things go on, and make us responsible. Cool cheek!" said Ainger. "However, the row overhead will wake him up now and then. Fancy, young Herapath, unless he's making a joke, which isn't much in his line, says Railsford's engaged to his sister; and on that account the young beggar and his precious chum get leave to have Sykes' study and do what they like. They may, for all I shall interfere. If it's a family affair, you don't catch me poking my nose into it!"

"Engaged, is he?" cried Felgate, laughing. "What a joke!"

"It's nothing to do with us," said Barnworth, "whether he is or not."

"Unless he goes in for favouritism; which it seems he is doing," said Ainger.

"Well, even so, you've washed your hands of young Herapath, and he's a lucky chap. But having done so, I don't see what it matters to us how many wives or sweethearts he has."

"It seems to me," said Ainger, who was still discontented, "we shall get no more backing from him than we did from Moss. I don't care twopence about that young a.s.s Herapath; but if the house is to go on as it was last term, and we are to be interfered with by Bickers and n.o.body to stand up for us, we may as well shut up at once, and let him appoint new prefects."

"Yes, but are you sure he won't back us up?" drawled Barnworth. "I'm not a betting man, like Stafford, but I have a notion he'll come out on our side."

Ainger grunted sceptically, and announced that he had to unpack; whereat his comrades left him.

Few persons at Grandcourt gave the captain of Railsford's house credit for being as honest as he was short-tempered, and as jealous for the honour of his house as he was short-sighted as to the best means of securing it. And yet Ainger was all this; and when he went to bed that night Railsford himself did not look forward more anxiously to the opening term than did his first lieutenant.

CHAPTER FIVE.

ARTHUR AND THE BARONET SETTLE DOWN FOR THE TERM.

The reader is not to imagine that Railsford's house contained n.o.body but the four prefects of the Sixth-form and the sedate tenants of the study immediately over the master's head, who belonged to the Sh.e.l.l. On the contrary, the fifty boys who made up the little community were fully representative of all grades and cla.s.ses of Grandcourt life. There was a considerable substratum of "Babies" belonging to the junior forms, who herded together noisily and buzzed like midges in every hole and corner of the house. Nor were Herapath and Oakshott, with their two cronies, by any means the sole representatives of that honourable fraternity known as the Sh.e.l.l, too mature for the junior school, and yet too juvenile for the upper forms. A score at least of Railsford's subjects belonged to this n.o.ble army, and were ready to wage war with anybody or anything--for a consideration.

Still ascending in the scale, came a compact phalanx of Fifth-form heroes, counting some of the best athletes of the second eleven and fifteen, and yet not falling in with the spirited foreign policy so prevalent in the rest of the house. On an emergency they could and would turn out, and their broad backs and st.u.r.dy arms generally gave a good account of themselves. But as a general rule they grieved their friends by an eccentric habit of "mugging," which, as anybody knows, is a most uncomfortable and alarming symptom in a boy of a house such as Railsford's. True, there were among them a few n.o.ble spirits who never did a stroke of work unless under compulsion; but as a rule the Fifth- form fellows in Railsford's lay under the imputation of being studious, and took very little trouble to clear their characters. Only when the school sports came round, or the house matches, their detractors used to forgive them.

The four prefects, to whom the reader has been already introduced, divided among them the merits and shortcomings of their juniors. Ainger and Felgate, though antagonistic by nature, were agreed as to an aggressive foreign policy; while Barnworth and of course the amiable Stafford considered there was quite enough work to do at home without going afield. Yet up to the present these four heroes had been popular in their house--Barnworth was the best high jumper Grandcourt had had for years, and Ainger was as steady as a rock at the wickets of the first eleven, and was reported to be about to run Smedley, the school captain, very close for the mile at the spring sports. Stafford, dear fellow that he was, was not a particularly "hot" man at anything, but he would hold the coat of anyone who asked him, and backed everybody up in turn, and always cheered the winner as heartily as he condoled with the loser. Felgate was one of those boys who could do better than they do, and whose unsteadiness is no one's fault but their own. His ways were sometimes crooked, and his professions often exceeded his practice. He meant well sometimes, and did ill very often; and, in short, was just the kind of fellow for the short-tempered, honest Ainger cordially to dislike.

Such was the miscellaneous community which Mark Railsford found himself called upon to govern. It was not worse than a good many masters'

houses, and had even its good points.

And yet just now it was admitted to be in a bad way. The doctor had his eye on it, and there is nothing more adverse to reform than the consciousness that one has a bad name. The late master, Mr Moss, moreover, had notoriously found the place too hot for him, and had given it up. That again tells against the reputation of a house. And, lastly, although it had a few good scholars and athletes, who won laurels for the school, there seemed not enough of them to do anything for the house, which had steadily remained at the bottom of the list for general proficiency for several terms.

If you inquired how all this came about, you would hear all sorts of explanations, but the one which found most favour in the delinquent house itself was summed up in the single word "Bickers." The origin of the deadly feud between the boys of Railsford's and the master of the adjoining house was a mystery pa.s.sing the comprehension even of such as professed to understand the ins and outs of juvenile human nature. It had grown up like a mushroom, and no one exactly remembered how it began. Mr Bickers, some years ago, had been a candidate for the Mastership of the Sh.e.l.l, but had been pa.s.sed over in favour of Mr Roe.

And ever since, so report went, he had been actuated by a fiendish antipathy to the boys who "kept" in the house of his rival. He had worried Mr Moss out of the place, and the boys of the two houses, quick to take up the feuds of their chiefs, had been in a state of war for months. Not that Mr Bickers was a favourite in his own house. He was not, any more than Mr Moss had been in his. But any stick is good enough to beat a dog with, and when Mr Bickers's boys had a mind to "go for" Moss's boys, they espoused the cause of Bickers, and when Mr Moss's boys went out to battle against those of Bickers's house, their war-cry was "Moss."

Much legend had grown up round the feud; but if anyone had had patience to examine it to the bottom he would probably have found the long and short to be that Mr Bickers, being unhappily endowed with a fussy disposition and a sour and vindictive temper, had incurred the displeasure of the boys of his rival's house, and not being the man to smooth away a bad impression, had aggravated it by resenting keenly what he considered to be an unjust prejudice against himself.

This little digression may enable the reader, if he has had the patience to wade through it, to form an idea of the state of parties in that particular section of Grandcourt which chiefly came under Railsford's observation. With Roe's and Grover's houses on the other side of the big square, his boys had comparatively little to do as a house, while with the remote communities in the little square they had still less in common.

But to return to our story. The first week of the next term was one of the busiest Mark Railsford ever spent. His duties in the Sh.e.l.l began on the second day, and the opening performance was not calculated to elate his spirit. The sixty or seventy prodigies of learning who a.s.sembled there came from all houses. A few were bent seriously on work and promotion, the majority were equally in different about the one and the other, and the remainder were professional idlers--most successful in their profession.

Such were the hopeful materials which Railsford was expected to inspire with a n.o.ble zeal in the pursuit of cla.s.sics, history, and divinity. It would have bets as easy--at least, so it seemed to the master--to instruct he monkey-house at the Zoological Gardens. The few workers (scarcely one of whom, by the way, was in his own house) formed a little _coterie_ apart, and grabbed up whatever morsels of wisdom and learning their master could afford to let drop in the midst of his hand-to-hand combat with the forces of anarchy and lethargy. But he had little to say to them. His appeals were addressed to the body of gaping, half- amused, half-bored loungers in the middle of the room, who listened pleasantly and forgot instantaneously; who never knew where to go on, and had an inveterate knack of misunderstanding the instructions for next day's work. They endured their few morning hours in the Sh.e.l.l patiently, resignedly, and were polite enough to yawn behind their books. They were rarely put out by their own mistakes, and when occasionally the master dropped upon them with some penalty or remonstrance, they deemed it a pity that anyone should put himself so much about on their account.

Railsford was baffled. There seemed more hope in the turbulent skirmishers at the back of the room, who at least could now and then be worked upon by thunder, and always, in theory, acknowledged that lessons were things to be learned. On the first day the "muggers" knew their task well, and Railsford glowed with hope as he expressed his approbation. But when he came to the gapers his spirits sunk to zero.

They had unfortunately mistaken the pa.s.sage, or else the page was torn out of their book, or else they had been prevented by colds or sprained wrists or chilblains from learning it. When told to construe a pa.s.sage read out not two minutes before by one of the upper boys, they knew nothing about it, and feared it was too hard for their overwrought capacities; and when pinned down where they sat to the acquirement of some short rule or pa.s.sage, they explained sorrowfully that that had not been Mr Moss's method. In divinity they raised discussions on questions of dogma, and so subtly evaded challenge on questions of Greek Testament construction and various readings. In history they fell back on a few stock answers, which rarely possessed the merit of having any connection with the questions which they pretended to satisfy. But the gapers were men of peace, after all. They rarely insisted upon their own opinion, nor did it offend them to be told they were wrong.

The noisier element were less complacent; it is true, they never did a lesson through, or construed a sentence from one end to the other.

Still, when they took the trouble to "mug" a question up, they expected to be believed. It hurt them a good deal to be informed that they knew nothing; and to detain them or set them impositions because of a difference of opinion on an historical, cla.s.sical, or theological question seemed grossly unjust. When, for instance, Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, on an early day of the term, publicly stated that the chief features of Cromwell's character was a large mouth and a wart on the nose, he was both hurt and annoyed to be ordered peremptorily to remain for an hour after cla.s.s and write out pages 245 to 252, inclusive, of the School History. He had no objection, as he confided to his friend and comforter, Arthur Herapath, Esquire, to the Master of the Sh.e.l.l entertaining his own opinions as to the character of the personage in question. But he believed in the maxim "give and take," and just as he would cheerfully have received anything Mr Railsford might have to say on the subject, he at least expected that his own statement should be received in an equally candid spirit, particularly (as he was anxious to point out) since he had personally inspected a portrait of Cromwell not long ago, and verified the existence of the two features alleged.

Sir Digby, indeed, deserved some little commiseration. He had come up to Grandcourt this term pledged to the hilt to work hard and live virtuously. He had produced and proudly hung in a conspicuous place in his study a time-table, beautifully ruled and written in red and black ink, showing how each hour of every day in the week was to be spent in honest toil and well-earned sport. He had explained to his friend the interesting fact that a duplicate of this table had been presented to his mother, who thereby would be able to tell at any moment how her dear son was occupied.

"Let's see," said he, proudly, taking out his watch. "7.15. Now what am I doing at 7.15 on Thursdays? French preparation. There you are! So if she's thinking about me now she knows what I'm up to."

"But you're not doing French preparation," suggested Arthur.

"Of course I'm not, you a.s.s. How could I when I lent Dimsdale my book?

Besides, we've not started yet. I've got about a million lines to write. Do you know, I'm certain it was Bickers got me into that row about the omnibus; I saw him looking on. I say, that was a stunning lark, wasn't it? I'd have won too if Riggles had kept his right side.

Look here, I say, I'd better do some lines now; lend us a hand, there's a good chap. Wouldn't it be a tip if old Smiley could write; we could keep him going all day long!"

Master Oakshott had, in fact, become considerably embarra.s.sed at the beginning of the term by one or two accidents, which conspired to put off the operation of the time-table for a short period.

The doctor had received information through some channel of the famous chariot race on opening day, and had solaced the defeated champion with a caning (which he did not mind) and five hundred lines of Virgil (which he greatly disliked). In addition to that, Digby had received fifty lines from Ainger for pea-shooting, which, not being handed in by the required time, had doubled and trebled, and bade fair to become another five hundred before they were done. And now he had received from Railsford--from his beloved friend's future brother-in-law--seven pages of School History to write out, of which he had accomplished one during the detention hour, and had solemnly undertaken to complete the other six before to-morrow. It spoke a good deal for the forbearance and good spirits of the unfortunate baronet that he was not depressed by his misfortunes.

Arthur, too, had come up with every idea of conducting himself as a model boy, and becoming a great moral support to his future brother-in- law. It had pained him somewhat to find that relative was not always as grateful for his countenance as he should have been. Still, he bore him no malice. The time would come when the elder would cry aloud to the younger for aid, and he should get it.

Meanwhile, on this particular evening, Arthur found himself too busy, getting the new study into what he termed ship-shape order, to be able to adopt his friend's suggestion about the lines. His idea of ship- shape did not in every particular correspond with the ordinary acceptation of the term. He had brought down in his trunk several fine works of art, selected chiefly from the sporting papers, and representing stirring incidents in the lives of the chief prize- fighters. These, after endeavouring to take out a few of the creases contracted in the journey, he displayed over the fireplace and above the door, attaching them to the wall by means of garden nails, which had an awkward way of digging prodigious holes in the plaster and never properly reaching the laths behind. Most of the pictures consequently required frequent re-hanging, and by the end of the evening looked as if they, like the shady characters painted on them, had been in the wars.

Then Arthur had produced with some pride a small set of bookshelves, which packed away into a wonderfully small s.p.a.ce, but which, when fitted together, were large enough to accommodate as many books as he possessed. The fitting together, however, was not very successful.

Some of the screws were lost, and had to be replaced by nails, and having used the side-pieces for the shelves, and the shelves for the sides, he and Dig had a good deal of trouble with a saw and a cunningly constructed arrangement of strings to reduce the fabric into the similitude of a bookcase. When at last it was done and nailed to the wall, it exhibited a tendency to tilt forward the moment anything touched it, and pitch its contents on to the floor.

After much thought it occurred to Herapath that if they turned it upside down this defect would operate in the other direction, and hold the books securely against the wall. So, having wrenched the nails out, and been fortunate enough to find a s.p.a.ce on the wall not gaping with wounds in the plaster, they re-erected it inversely. But, alas! although the top shelf now tilted back at the wall, the bottom shelf swung forward an inch or two and let its contents out behind with the same regularity and punctuality with which it had previously ejected them in front.

Dig p.r.o.nounced it a rotten concern, and voted for smashing it up; but Herapath, more dauntless, determined on one further effort.

He began to drive a large nail vehemently into the floor immediately under the refractory bookcase, and then, tying a string round the bottom shelf, he hitched the other end round the nail and drew the fabric triumphantly into the wall. It was a complete success. Even Dig applauded, and cried out to his friend that another inch would make a job of it.

Another inch did make a job of it, for just as the bottom shelf closed in the top gave a spring forward, pulling the nail along with it, and burying the two mechanics under a cascade of books, plaster, and shattered timber. Arthur and Dig sat on the floor and surveyed the ruin stolidly, while Smiley, evidently under the delusion that the whole entertainment had been got up for his amus.e.m.e.nt, barked vociferously, and, seizing a _Student's Gibbon_ in his teeth, worried it, in the lightness of his heart, like a rat. At this juncture the door opened, and Railsford, with alarm in his face, entered.

"Whatever _is_ the matter?" he exclaimed.

It was an excellent cue for the two boys, who forthwith began to rub their arms and shoulders, and make a demonstration of quiet suffering.

"This horrid bookcase won't stick up!" said Arthur. "We were trying to put the things tidy, and it came down."

"It's a pretty good weight on a fellow's arm!" said the baronet, rubbing his limb, which had really been grazed in the downfall.

"It is a very great noise on the top of my head," said the master. "I dare say it was an accident, but you two will have to be a great deal quieter up here, or I shall have to interfere."

"We really couldn't help it, Mark--I mean Rails--I mean Mr Railsford,"

said Arthur, in an injured tone. "There's Dig will get into no end of a row, as it is. He was writing out that imposition for you, and now he's hurt his arm through helping me--brick that he is! I suppose you won't mind if I finish the lines for him?"