by Harold Avery
CHAPTER VIII.
THIRD FORM ORATORY.
At the end of the first fortnight our three friends had begun to findtheir feet at Ronleigh, and the sense of being "outsiders" in everythingwas gradually wearing off as they grew more intimate with theirschoolfellows.
Jack Vance and Diggory soon became popular members of "The HappyFamily," and their loyalty to Mugford caused the latter's path to bemuch smoother than it probably would have been had he been compelled totread it alone.
Carton turned out a capital fellow; Rathson, the small, sandy-haired boymentioned in the previous chapter, and who generally went by the name of"Rats," took a great fancy to Jack; while Maxton repeated his assertionthat young Trevanock was "the right sort," and as a further mark of hisfavour presented the new-comer with a moleskin of his own curing, whichlooked very nice, but, as "Rats" put it, "smelt rather fruity."
But it was not in the Third Form only that Diggory began to findfriends; for by a lucky chance he was fortunate enough to make a goodimpression on the minds of the great men, who, as a rule, took nofurther notice of the small fry than to exact from them a certain amountof obedience, or in default a certain number of lines or other "impots."
One morning, soon after breakfast, a little group was gathered roundCarton's desk in the big school-room, discussing the value of someforeign stamps, when a small boy came up to them, saying,--
"Is Trevanock here? Well, Acton wants you now at once in his study."
"Hullo," said Carton, looking up from the sheet of specimens in front ofhim--"hullo, Diggy! What have you been up to?"
"I haven't been doing anything," answered the other. "What do you thinkhe wants me for?"
"I don't know, but it sounds rather like getting a licking. At allevents, you'd better hurry up; prefects don't thank you for keeping themwaiting. His is the third door on the right as you go down thepassage."
Diggory hastened to obey the summons, wondering what it could mean.He found the door, and in answer to the loud "Come in!" which greetedhis knock turned the handle, and found himself for the first time insideone of the Sixth Form studies.
It was a small, square room, and looked very cosy and comfortable withits red window-curtains, well-filled bookshelf, and many littleknick-knacks that adorned the walls and mantelpiece. An array of silvercups, several photographs of cricket and football teams, and amiscellaneous pile of bats, fencing-sticks, Indian clubs, etc., standingin one corner, all spoke of the athlete; while carelessly thrown downon the top of a cupboard was an article for the possession of which manya, boy would have bartered the whole of his worldly wealth--a bit ofworn blue velvet and the tarnished remnant of what had once been a goldtassel--the "footer cap" of Ronleigh College.
But it was not so much the furniture as the occupants of the study thatattracted Diggory's attention. John Acton, a tall, wiry fellow, wholooked as though his whole body was as hard and tough as whip-cord, wasstanding leaning on the end of the mantelpiece talking to another of theseniors, who sat sprawling in a folding-chair on the other side of thefire; while seated at the table, turning over the leaves of whatappeared to be a big manuscript book, was no less a personage thanAllingford, the school captain.
"I don't understand a bit what's coming to 'Thirsty,'" the footballleader was saying. "I was rather chummy with him when we were in theFifth, and he was all right then, but now he seems to be running to seedas fast as he can; and I believe it's a great deal that fellowFletcher.--Hullo, youngster! what d'you want?"
"I was told you wanted to see me," said Diggory nervously.
"Oh yes. You were at The Birches, that school near Chatford, weren'tyou? Well, I want to hear about that love affair my young brother hadwith the old chap's daughter.--It was an awful joke," added the speaker,addressing his companions. "He was about fourteen, and she's a grown-upwoman; and he was awfully gone, I can tell you.--How did he pop thequestion?"
"He wrote," answered Diggory. "We tossed up whether he should do thator speak."
There was a burst of laughter.
"Did you see the letter?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why not? don't you remember?"
"Yes; but he only showed me the letter on condition I wouldn't ever tellany one what was in it."
"Oh, that's all rot! you can tell me; I'm his brother. Come, out withit."
It was an awful thing to beard the lion in his den--for a new boy toface so great a personage as the football captain, and refusepoint-blank to do as he was told. Diggory shifted uneasily from onefoot to another, and then glancing up he became aware of the fact thatAllingford was gazing at him across the table with a curious expression,which somehow gave him fresh encouragement to persist in his refusal todisclose the contents of his former friend's love-letter.
"I can't tell you," he repeated; "it was a promise, you know."
The Ronleigh captain laughed. "Well done," he said. "I wish some otherfellows were a bit more careful to keep their promises.--Acton, youbeggar, you swore you'd keep up this register for me, and there'snothing entered for last term."
"Oh, bother you, Ally!" exclaimed the other; "what a nigger-driver youare!--Hullo, there's the bell!--Here, kid, stick those two oranges inyour pocket; go 'long!"
Diggory left the room, having gained something else besides the twooranges; for as he closed the door Allingford laughed again, and risingfrom his chair said, "He's a stanch little beggar; I think I'll keepan eye on him."
The subject of this remark hurried away, and had just joined the crowdof boys who were thronging into the big school for assembly, when someone took hold of his arm, and glancing round he was startled to see JackVance, looking very excited and dishevelled, and mopping his mouth witha blood-stained handkerchief.
"I say," exclaimed the latter, "have you seen Mugford?"
"No. What's the matter? what have you done to your mouth?"
"Why, I've had a beastly row with Noaks. I'll 'tell you after school."
"No, tell me now," cried Diggory, pulling his companion aside into acorner by the door. "Quick--what was it?"
"Why, he pounced down on Mugford, out there by the fives-court, andbegan twisting his arm and saying he'd pay him out for that paint-potbusiness. I went to the rescue, and the beast hit me with theback of his hand here on the mouth. I told him he was a cad, and saidsomething about his father being only a man-servant, and having stolenour things. I'm sorry now, for it was rather a low thing to do, but Iwas in such a wax I didn't think what I was saying. Mouler was standingby, and he heard it, and laughed; and Noaks looked as if he'd havekilled me. I believe he would have knocked me down, only Rowlands, theprefect, came up and stopped the row."
There was no time for any further details, and the two boys had to rushaway to their seats in order to escape being marked as late.
One thing was certain--that the Triple Alliance were once more embroiledin a quarrel with their ancient foe the former leader of thePhilistines, and they knew enough of their adversary's character tofeel sure that he would not pass over an event of this kind without someattempt at revenge.
It is probable that, if this had happened at Horace House, Jack Vancewould have received a good licking as soon as the classes weredismissed; but a few very plain and forcible words spoken by Rowlandson the subject of knocking small boys about caused Noaks to postpone hisretaliation.
"Look here," he said, meeting Jack Vance in the quadrangle during theinterval: "just you keep your mouth shut about me and my father.I've got two or three accounts to settle with you chaps already; justmind what you're up to." He clinched his fist as though about tostrike, then, with an ugly scowl, turned on his heel and walked away.
It must have been about three days after this encounter with Noaks thatour three friends were called upon to attend a mass meeting of the ThirdForm, to consider the advisability of starting a periodical inopposition to the school magazine. Important events connected with al
ater period of their life at Ronleigh render it necessary that weshould not linger too long over the account of their first term; butsome mention, however brief, should certainly be made of the memorablegathering to which we have referred. A notice pinned on to theblack-board, and pulled down as soon as Mr. Watford entered theclassroom, announced the project in the following words:--
"NOTICE." "A meeting will be held in the 'old lab' directly after dinner to-day, to make plans for starting a magazine in opposition to _The Ronleian_. All members of the Third Form are specially requested to attend."
"FLETCHER II." "J. A. BIBBS."
"You must come," said "Rats" to Diggory; "it'll be an awful lark."
"But what's it all about?"
"Oh, you'll hear when you get there. It's Fletcher's idea; he wants tostart a new magazine. Eastfield, who edits _The Ronleian_, is Maxton'scousin; so Maxton's going to interrupt and get some other fellows to dothe same. I'm going to be part of the opposition," added the youthful"Rats," beaming with delight, "and I have got a whole heap of paper bagsI'm going to burst while Fletcher's speaking."
The "old lab," as it was called, was a small brick building which stoodon one side of the asphalt playground. A new laboratory having recentlybeen fitted up elsewhere, the former one was, for the time being,unused. It was not more than about fifteen feet long by seven or eightfeet wide; and as "The Happy Family" mustered in force, the place wascrowded to overflowing. The door having been closed, Fletcher Twomounted a low stone sink which ran along the end wall, and from thisready-made platform commenced to address the assembly :--
"Gentlemen,--We've met here, as you know, to talk over starting a freshmagazine. _The Ronleian_ is a beastly swindle, and it's high time wehad something different." (A voice, "No, 'tisn't," and the bursting ofa paper bag.) "You shut up there! I say it is a swindle: they didn'tgive any account of that fourth eleven match against Robertson's second,and they made fun of us in the 'Quad Gossip,' and said that in'The Happy Family' there was a preponderance of monkey." ("So there is,and you're it!" Laughter and another explosion.)
"What I propose is that we start a manuscript magazine for the ThirdForm, and that every fellow promise to take that, and never to buy acopy of the other. We might pass it round, and charge a penny each tolook at it. Will you all subscribe?"
No one spoke, the silence only being broken by the sound of "Rats"blowing up another bag, which caused a fresh burst of laughter.
"Will you all subscribe?" once more demanded the speaker.
There were mingled cries of "Yes!" and "No!" and a stentorian yell of"No, you cuckoo! of course we won't," from Maxton, and anotherexplosion.
"Look here, young 'Rats,' if you burst any more of those bags I'll comedown and burst your head.--I forgot to say, gentlemen, that Mr. Bibbshas promised to assist in editing the paper; and I will now call uponhim to give you an account of what it will contain."
Bibbs, the Third Form genius, was regarded by every one as a huge joke,and the very mention of his name caused a fresh burst of merriment.He was a sad-faced, untidy-looking boy, quick and clever enough in somethings, and equally dull and stupid in others. The announcement that hewould address the meeting had no sooner been made than half a dozenwilling pairs of hands seized and hoisted him on to the platform; thoughno sooner had he attained this exalted position than two or three voicesordered him in a peremptory manner to "Come down!"
The greater part of the audience not caring the toss of a button whetherFletcher started his magazine or not, but thinking that it was rathergood fun to interrupt the proceedings, now joined the opposition, andthe unfortunate Bibbs was subjected to a brisk fire of chaff.One facetious class-mate, standing close to the sink, offered to sellhim by auction; and hammering on the stones with the fragment of a bathandle, knocked him down for threepence to another joker, who said he'ddo for a pen-wiper.
"Sing a song, Bibbs!" cried one voice; "Where's your neck-tie?" askedanother; "What are you grinning at?" demanded a third; while the objectof these pleasantries stood, with a vacant smile upon his face,nervously fumbling with his watch-chain.
"Go on!" cried Fletcher, who had descended from the platform to makeroom for his colleague; "say something, you fool!"
"The magazine is to be written on exercise-book paper," began Bibbs, andhad only got thus far when he was interrupted by a perfect salvo ofpaper bags which little "Rats" discharged in quick succession.
With an exclamation of wrath Fletcher made a dive in the direction ofthe offender, and in a moment the whole gathering was in a state ofconfusion. The majority of those present siding with "Rats," began tohustle Fletcher, while two gentlemen having dragged Bibbs from hisperch, jumped up in his stead, and began to execute a clog-dance.
In the midst of this commotion Maxton elbowed his way through the crush,and having pushed the two boys off the sink, mounted it himself,crying,--
"Look here, I'm going to speak; just you listen a minute. The reasonwhy Bibbs wants to start a new magazine is because he wrote a novelonce, and sent it to _The Ronleian_ to come out so much each month,and they wouldn't have it."
"Shut up, Maxton!" cried Fletcher, rushing to the spot; "you've onlycome here on purpose to interrupt. Let's turn him out!"
"Yes, turn him out!" echoed the audience, who by this time were just inthe spirit for "ragging," and would have ejected friend or foe alike forthe sport of the thing--"turn him out!"
The two clog-dancers being quite ready to avenge the interruption oftheir performance, formed themselves into a storming-party, and carriedthe platform by assault. Maxton, struggling all the way, was dragged tothe door, and cast out into the playground. Most of the restlessspirits in the audience requiring a short breathing-space to recovertheir wind after the tussle, there followed a few moments' quiet, whichFletcher immediately took advantage of to mount the sink and resume thebusiness of the meeting.
"The magazine," he began, "is going to be written on exercise-bookpaper. Any one who likes can contribute, and it's going to be moreespecially a paper for the Third Form."
The speaker went on to show that the periodical was destined to supply along-felt want. _The Ronleian_ ignored the doings of boys in the lowerhalf of the school, and returned their contributions with insultingsuggestions, pencilled on the margins, that the authors should devotesome of their spare time and energy to the study of their Englishgrammars and spelling-books. _The Third Form Chronicle_, as it was tobe called, would recognize the fact that junior boys had as much rightto be heard as seniors, and would afford them the opportunity of airingtheir views on any subject they chose to bring forward.
Fletcher had barely time to proceed thus far with his speech when analarming interruption occurred, which put an immediate stop to hisfurther utterance. Nearly at the top of the end wall there had formerlybeen a ventilator; this, for one reason or another, had been removed,and in the brickwork an open space about a foot square had been left.A hissing noise was suddenly heard outside, and the next moment a streamof water shot through the aperture, and descended in a perfect deluge onthe heads of the company.
The fact was that Maxton, ever a reckless young villain, had discovereda hose fixed to one of the mains close to the building, and hadimmediately seized upon it as an instrument wherewith to wreak vengeanceon his companions for having turned him out of the meeting.
Words cannot describe the uproar and confusion which followed. As oneman the whole assembly made for the door, but only to find it fastenedon the outside. The water flew all over the small building, drenchingevery one in turn. Some howled, some laughed, and only Bibbs hadsufficient presence of mind to creep under the sink, which afforded acertain amount of shelter from the falling flood.
The deluge ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and an instant later thedoor was flung open, and the figure of a Sixth Form boy was seen barringthe exit.
"Now, then," he demanded, "what are you youngsters making this awfulrow for? I've a jolly good mind to take all your names."
There was a moment's silence. Then Fletcher's voice was heardexclaiming,--
"Oh! it's only old 'Thirsty;' he's all right."
"Here, not so fast," answered the prefect, blocking up the doorway assome boys tried to escape; "what are you chaps doing in here? I thoughtyou'd been told to keep out."
The originator of the meeting pushed his way through the crowd, andtaking hold of the big fellow's arm in a familiar manner, said,--
"Oh, it's all right, 'Thirsty,' old chap. We just came inside, and someone squirted water all over us, and that's why we shouted. But we won'tdo it again."
"Oh, but it isn't all right," returned the other. "If I find any of youin here again, I'll help you out with the toe of my boot. Go on! I'lllet you off this once."
The crowd rushed forth and quickly dispersed.
"That Thurston seems an awful decent chap," said Diggory; "I didn'tthink he'd let us off so easily."
"He's all right as long as you don't cross him," answered Carton."He used to be pretty strict, but he doesn't seem to care now whatfellows do. He's very thick with Fletcher's brother--that's one reasonwhy he didn't do anything just now; but I can tell you he's a nasty chapto deal with when he's in a wax."
The prefect locked the empty building, and turning on his heel caughtsight of our three friends, who were standing close by waiting for"Rats."
"Hullo, you new kids! what are you called?"
The usual answer was given, and Thurston passed on, little thinking whatgood cause he would have before the end of the year for remembering thenames of the trio, and altogether unaware of the prominent part whichthe Triple Alliance was destined to play in his own private affairs aswell as in the fortunes of Ronleigh College.