Young Blood

by E. W. Hornung

  CHAPTER XVII.

  AT FAULT.

  Harry had been requested to put on his boots in order to take the elderboys for a walk. He was to keep them out for about an hour and a half,but nothing had been said as to the direction he should take, and hewas indiscreet enough to start without seeking definite instruction onthe point.

  "Do you always walk two-and-two?" he asked the boys, as they made forthe High Street in this doleful order.

  "Yes, sir," said two or three.

  "But we needn't if you give us leave not to," added the younger Wren,with a small boy's quickness to take advantage.

  "No, you must do as you always do, at any rate until we get out of thevillage," said Harry as they came to the street. "Now which way do yougenerally go?"

  The boys saw their chance of the irregular, and were not slow to airtheir views. Bushey Park appeared to be the customary resort, and theproverbial mischief of familiarity was discernible in the glowingdescription which one boy gave of Kingston Market on a Saturdayafternoon and in the enthusiasm with which another spoke for KnellerHall. Richmond Park, said a third, would be better than Bushey Park,only it was rather a long walk.

  To Harry, however, who had come round by Wimbledon the day before, itwas news, and rather thrilling news, that Richmond Park was within awalk at all. The boys told him it would be near enough when they made abridge at Teddington.

  "There's the ferry," said one; and when Harry said, "Oh, there is aferry, then?" a little absently, his bias was apparent to the boys.

  "The ferry, the ferry," they wheedled, jumping at the idea of such anadventure.

  "It's splendid over Ham Common, sir."

  "The ferry, sir, the ferry!"

  Of course it was very weak in Harry, but the notion of giving the boysa little extra pleasure had its own attraction for him, and his onlyscruple was the personal extravagance involved. However, he had somesilver in his pocket, and the ferryman's toll only came to pennies thatHarry could not grudge when he saw the delight of the boys as theytumbled aboard. One of them, indeed, nearly fell into the river--whichcaused the greatest boy of them all his first misgivings. But acrossHam fields they hung upon his arms in the friendliest and pleasantestfashion, begging and coaxing him to tell them things about Africa; andhe was actually in the midst of the yarn that had failed on paper, whenthere occurred on the Common that which was to puzzle him in the futureeven more than it startled him at the moment. A lady and gentlemanstrolled into his ken from the opposite direction, and that instant thestory ceased.

  "Go on, sir, go on! What happened then?"

  "I'll tell you presently; here are some friends of mine, and youfellows must wait a moment."

  He shook them off and stepped across the road to where his friends werepassing without seeing him. Thus his back was turned to the boys, whofortunately could not see how he blushed as he raised his hat.

  "It's Mr. Ringrose!" cried Fanny Lowndes.

  "The deuce it is!" her father exclaimed. "Why, Ringrose, what theblazes are you doing down here, and who are your young friends?"

  "I'm awfully sorry I didn't let you know," said Harry, "but the wholething was so sudden. As I told you when you came to see us, MissLowndes, I have been trying for a mastership for some time; and just asI had given it up----"

  "You have got one!"

  "Yes, quite unexpectedly, at the beginning of this week."

  The girl looked both glad and sorry, but her father's nose wastwitching with amusement and his eyes twinkling in their gold frames.

  "You did well to take what you could get," said he, lowering his voiceso that nothing could be heard across the road. "Writing for yourliving means writing for your life, and that's no catch; but by Jove,Ringrose, you ought to get off some good things with such a capitalsafety-valve as boys always on hand! When you can't think of a rhyme,run round and box their ears till one comes. When you get a rejectedmanuscript, try hammering their knuckles with the ruler! Where's theschool, Ringrose, and who keeps it?"

  Harry hung his head.

  "I am almost ashamed to tell you. It's a dame's school--at Teddington."

  "A dame's school at Teddington! Not Mrs. Bickersteth's?"

  "Yes--do you know it?"

  Harry had looked up in time to catch the other's expression, and it wasa very singular one. The lad had never seen such a look on any otherface, but on this face he had seen it once before. He had seen it inthe train, during the journey back to London, on the day that he couldnever forget. It was the look that had afterwards struck him as aguilty look, though, to be sure, he had never thought about it from themoment when he took up his father's letter, and saw at a glance that itwas genuine, until this one.

  "Do I know it?" echoed Lowndes, recovering himself. "Only byrepute--only by repute. So you have gone there!" he added below hisbreath, strangely off his guard again in a moment.

  "Come," said Harry, "do you know something against the school, orwhat?"

  "Oh, dear, no; nothing against it, and very little about it," repliedLowndes. "Only the school is known in these parts--people in Richmondsend their boys there--that is all. I have heard very good accounts ofit. Are you the only master?"

  "No, there's a daily pedagogue, named Scrafton, who seems to besomething of a character, but I haven't seen him yet. Do you knowanything about him?"

  The question was innocently asked, for Harry's curiosity had beenaroused by the repeated necessity of preventing the boys from openingtheir hearts to him about Mr. Scrafton. If he had stopped to think, hewould have seen that he had the answer already--and Lowndes would nothave lost his temper.

  "How should I know anything about him?" he cried. "Haven't I just askedyou if you were the only master? Either your wits are deserting you,Ringrose, or you wish to insult me, my good fellow. In any case we mustbe pushing on, and so, I have no doubt, must you."

  Harry could not understand this ebullition, which was uttered withevery sign of personal offence, from the ridiculously stiff tones tothe remarkably red face. He simply replied that he had spoken withoutthinking and had evidently been misunderstood, and he turned withoutmore ado to shake hands with Miss Lowndes. The father's goodwill hadlong ceased to be a matter of vital importance to him; but it went tohis heart to see how pale Miss Fanny had turned during this exchange ofwords, and to feel the trembling pressure of that true friend's hand.It was as though she were asking him to forgive her father, at whoseside she walked so dejectedly away that it was not pure selfishnesswhich made Harry Ringrose long just then to change places with GordonLowndes.

  The whole colloquy had not lasted more than two or three minutes; yetit had ended in the most distinct rupture that had occurred, so far,between Harry and his parents' friend; and that about the most minuteand seemingly insignificant point which had ever been at issue betweenthem.

  The boys found their new master poor company after this. He finishedhis story in perfunctory fashion, nor would he tell another. He notonly became absent-minded and unsociable, but displayed an unsuspectedcapacity for strictness which was really irritability. More than oneyoung wiseacre whispered a romantic explanation, but the majorityremembered that it was to the gentleman old Ring-o'-ring-o'-roses hadchiefly addressed himself; and the general and correct impression wasthat the former had been "waxy" with old Ring-in-the-nose. Harry'snickname was not yet fixed.

  Those, however, with whom he had been "waxy" in his turn had asatisfaction in store for them at the school, where Mrs. Bickerstethawaited them, watch in hand, and with an angry spot on eachfresh-coloured cheek. She ordered the boys downstairs to take theirboots off, and in the same breath requested Mr. Ringrose to speak toher in the study, in a tone whose significance the boys knew betterthan Harry.

  "I was under the impression, Mr. Ringrose, that I said an hour and ahalf?" began the lady, with much bitter-sweetness of voice and manner.

  Harry pulled out his own watch, and began apologising freely; he wassome twenty minutes late.

  "When I say an hour and a half,
" continued the schoolmistress, "I donot mean two hours. I beg you will remember that in future. May I askwhere you have been?"

  Harry said they had been to Richmond Park. The lady's eyes literallyblazed.

  "You have walked my boys to Richmond Park and back? Really, Mr.Ringrose, I should have thought you would know better. The distance ismuch too great. I am excessively angry to hear they have been so far."

  "I beg your pardon," said Harry, with humility, "but I don't think thedistance was quite so great as you imagine. Though we have walked backthrough Kingston, we made a short cut in going, for I took the libertyof taking the boys across the river in the ferry-boat."

  This was the last straw, and for some moments Mrs. Bickersteth waspractically speechless with indignation. Then with a portentousinclination of her yellow head, "It _was_ a liberty," said she; "a verygreat liberty indeed, I call it! I requested you to take them for awalk. I never dreamt of your risking their lives on the river. Have thegoodness to understand in future, Mr. Ringrose, that I stronglydisapprove of the boys going near the river. It is a most undesirableplace for them--most unsootable in every way. Excessively angry I am!"

  This speech might have been heard over half the house, and by the endHarry was fairly angry himself. But for his mother, and for aresolution he had made not to take Mrs. Bickersteth seriously, but toput up with all he possibly could, it is highly probable that theHollies, Teddington, would have known Harry Ringrose for twenty-fourhours only. As it was he maintained a sarcastic silence, and, when thewrathful lady had quite finished, left her with a bow and the assurancethat what had happened should not occur again; he merely permittedhimself to put some slight irony into his tone.

  And, indeed, the insulting character of a reprimand which was not,however, altogether unmerited, worried him far less in early retrospectthan the inexplicable manner of Gordon Lowndes on Ham Common. What didhe know about the school? What could have brought that odd look back tohis face? And why in the world should the master of an excellent temperhave lost it on provocation so ludicrously slight? These were thequestions that kept Harry Ringrose awake and restless in the stillsmall hours of the Sabbath morning.