CHAPTER THREE.
A MORNING WITH A TADPOLE.
It so happened that on the day following Stephen Greenfield's arrival atSaint Dominic's, the head master, Dr Senior, was absent.
This circumstance gave great satisfaction to the new boy when hisbrother told him of it, as it put off for another twenty-four hours theawful moment when he would be forced to expose his ignorance before thatterrible personage.
"You'd better stick about in my room while I'm in school," said Oliver,"and then you can come down to the cricket-field and see the practice.By the way, some of the fellows may be in to bag my ink; they always runshort on Friday; but don't let them take it, for I shall want itto-night. Ta, ta; give my love to the _mater_ if you're writing home.I'll be back for you after the twelve bell."
And off he went, leaving Stephen to follow his own sweet devices forthree hours.
That young gentleman was at no loss how to occupy part of the time. Hemust write home. So after much searching he unearthed a crumpled sheetof note-paper from one of the drawers, and set himself to his task. Ashe wrote, and his thoughts flew back to the home and the mother he hadleft only yesterday, his spirits fell, and the home-sickness came overhim worse than ever. What would he not give to change places with thisvery letter, and go back home!
Here, no one cared for him, every one seemed to despise him. He wasn'tused to those rough public schools, and would never get on at SaintDominic's. Ah! that wretched Tenth Fiji War. What _would_ become ofhim to-morrow when the Doctor would be back? There was no one to helphim. Even Oliver seemed determined to let him fight his own battles.
Poor boy! He sat back in his chair and let his mind wander once moreback to the snug little home he had left. And, as he did so, his eyesunconsciously filled with tears, and he felt as if he would giveanything to escape from Saint Dominic's.
At this moment the door opened and a small boy entered.
He did not seem to expect to find any one in the room, for he uttered ahurried "Hullo!" as he caught sight of Stephen.
Stephen quickly dashed away a tear and looked up.
"Where's Greenfield?" demanded the small boy.
"He's in school," replied Stephen.
"Hullo! what are you blubbering at?" cried the small boy, growing verybold and patronising all of a sudden, "eh?"
Stephen did not answer this home question.
"I suppose you are a new kid, just left your mammy?" observed the other,with the air of a man of forty; "what's your name, young 'un?"
"Stephen Greenfield."
"Oh, my! is it? What form are you in?"
"I don't know yet."
"Haven't you been examined?"
"No, not yet."
"Oh, of course; old Senior's away. Never mind, you'll catch itto-morrow, blub-baby!"
This last epithet was thrown in in such a very gratuitous and offensiveway, that Stephen did not exactly like it.
The small youth, however, finding himself in a bantering mood, pursuedhis questions with increasing venom.
"I suppose they call you Steenie at home?" he observed, with a sneerthat was meant to be quite annihilating.
"No, they don't," replied Stephen; "mother calls me Steevie."
"Oh, Steevie, does she? Well, Steevie, were you ever licked over theknuckles with a ruler?"
"No," replied Stephen; "why?"
"Because you will be--I know who'll do it, too, and kick you on theshins, too, if you're cheeky!"
Stephen was quite at a loss whether to receive this piece of news in thelight of information or a threat. He was inclined to believe it thelatter; and as he was a rash youth, he somewhat tartly replied, "_You_won't!"
The small boy looked astounded--not that he ever contemplated attemptingthe chastisement about which he had talked; but the idea of a new boydefying _him_, one of the chosen leaders of the Tadpoles, who had beenat Saint Dominic's two years, was amazing. He glared at the rashStephen for half a minute, and then broke out, "Won't I? that's all! yousee, you pretty little blubber boy! Yow-ow-ow! little sneak! why don'tyou cut behind your mammy's skirt, if you're afraid? I would cry if Iwere you. Where's his bottle? Poor infant! Yow-ow-boo-boo!"
This tornado, delivered with increasing vehemence and offensiveness,quite overpowered Stephen, who stared at the boy as if he had been atalking frog.
That youth evidently seemed to expect that his speech would produce afar deeper impression than it did, for he looked quite angry whenStephen made no reply.
"Wretched little sneak!" the amiable one continued; "I suppose he'll gopeaching to his big brother. Never mind, _we'll_ pay you out, see if wedon't! Go and kiss your mammy, and tell your big brother what they didto little duckie Steevie, did they then? they shouldn't! Give him asuck of his bottle! oh, my!" and he finished up with a most witheringlaugh. Then, suddenly remembering his errand, he walked up to thetable, and said, "I want that inkpot!"
Now was Stephen's time. He was just in the humour for an argument withthis young Philistine.
"What for?"
"What's that to you? give it up!"
"I shan't give it up; Oliver said it was not to be taken."
"What do you say?" yelled the small boy, almost beside himself with rageand astonishment. "It's my brother's ink, and I'm not to give it up,"said Stephen, shutting the top and keeping his hand on it.
It was enough! The patriarch of the Tadpoles knew his strong point wasin words rather than action; but this could not be endured. At whateverrisk, the dignity of his order must be maintained, and this insolent,mad new boy must be--kicked.
"I'll kick you on the legs if you don't give it up," said the Tadpole,in a suppressed white heat.
Stephen said nothing, but kept his hand on the pot, and awaited what wasto follow.
The hero stepped back a pace or two, to allow of a run worthy of thecoming kick; and what might have happened no one knows. At that momentthe door opened, and Pembury entered on his crutches.
At sight of this Fifth Form celebrity the Tadpole cringed and cowered,and tried to sneak out of the study unobserved. But Anthony was tooquick for him. Gently hooking him by the coat-collar with the end of acrutch, he brought him back.
"What are you doing here?"
"Nothing."
"Yes, he is," shouted Stephen; "he's been trying to take, away Oliver'sink."
"Silence, young gentleman, pray!" said Pembury, very grandly. Then,turning to the Tadpole, he added, "Oh, so you've been trying to bag someink, have you?"
"Well, I only wanted a little; and this--"
"Silence! how much ink did you want?"
"Only half a potful."
"You shall have half a potful!" said Pembury. "Come here."
The Tadpole obeyed, and glared triumphantly at Stephen.
"Now, Master Greenfield," said Pembury, addressing Stephen; "have thekindness to hand me the ink."
Stephen hesitated; he felt _sure_ Anthony was a master; and yet Oliver'sdirections had been explicit.
"Do you hear?" thundered Anthony.
"Do you hear?" squeaked the Tadpole, delighted to have the tables turnedon his adversary.
"Oliver said I wasn't to let it go," faltered Stephen.
"Do you hear me, sir?" again demanded Anthony.
"Do you hear? give it up!" again squeaked the Tadpole.
Stephen sighed, and surrendered the inkpot. There was an air ofauthority about Pembury which he dared not defy.
"Now, Master Tadpole, here's your ink; half a pot you said? Put yourhands behind you, and stir if you dare!" and Pembury looked so awful ashe spoke that the wretched boy was quite petrified.
The Fifth Form boy then solemnly emptied half the inkpot on to the topof the young gentleman's head, who ventured neither by word nor gestureto protest.
"Now you can go, sir!" and without another word he led the small youth,down whose face trickled a dozen tiny streams of black, making it lookvery like a gridiron, to the door, and there gently but firmly hand
edhim into the passage. The wretched youth flew off to proclaim hissorrows to his confederates, and vow vengeance all over Tadpole andGuinea-pig-land against his tormentor and the new boy, who was theauthor of all his humiliation.
Pembury meanwhile returned to Stephen. That young gentleman had felthis belief in Pembury's authority somewhat shaken by this unusual modeof punishment, but the Fifth Form boy soon reassumed his ascendency. Heproduced from his pocket a paper, and thus addressed Stephen: "DrSenior regrets that he should be absent at such an important time in thehistory of Saint Dominic's as the day of your arrival, MasterGreenfield, but he will be back to-morrow. Meanwhile, you are to occupyyourself with answering the questions on this paper, and take theanswers to the head master's study at ten to-morrow. Of course you willnot be so dishonourable as to show the questions to any one, not evenyour brother, or attempt to get the slightest help in answering them.Good-bye, my boy. Don't trouble to stare at my left leg, if it _is_shorter than the other. Good-bye."
Poor Stephen felt so confused by the whole of this oration, particularlythe last sentence, which made him blush scarlet with shame, that forsome time after the lame boy had hobbled off he could not bring himselfto look at the paper. At last, however, he took it up.
This, then, was the awful examination paper which was to determine hisposition at Saint Dominic's, or else expose his ignorance to the scornof his masters. How he wished he was on the other side of it, and thatthe ordeal was over!
"Question 1. Grammar. Parse the sentence, `Oh, ah!' and state thegender of the following substantives: `and,' `look,' `here.'"
Stephen scratched his head and rubbed his eyes. This was not likeanything he had learned at home. They must learn out of quite differentbooks at Saint Dominic's.
"Question 2. History--"
"Hullo," thought Stephen, "they don't give many questions in grammar;that's a good job."
"Question 2. History. Whose daughter was Stephen the Second, and whywas he nicknamed the `Green?'"
Stephen laughed. He had found out a mistake in his examiners."`Daughter,' the paper said, should be `son' of course. Funny for DrSenior to make such a slip," thought he.
"Question 3. History and Geography. Who built England? and state thelatitude and longitude of Saint Dominic's, and the boundaries of GussetWeir."
"_However_ am I to know?" murmured Stephen, in despair. "I was neverhere before in my life. Oh, dear, I shall _never_ pass!"
"Question 4. Compound Theology. Give a sketch of the rise and historyof the Dominicans from the time of Herod the Conqueror to the death ofTitmus."
"Whew!" was Stephen's despairing ejaculation. "I never heard of Titmus;it sounds like a Latin name."
"Question 5. Pure Theology. Who was Mr Finis? Give a list of theworks bearing his signature, with a short abstract of their contents.What is he particularly celebrated for?"
"Mr Finis?" groaned Stephen. "How can they expect a boy like me toknow who he was? And yet I seem to know the name. Oh dear me!"
"Question 6, and last but one," ("That's a comfort," sighed Stephen)."Mathematics. What is a minus? Describe its shape, and say how manyare left when the whole is divided by seven. Reduce your answer tovulgar decimals."
"I'm certain I can never do that. Minus? Minus? I know the name, too.But here's the last."
"Question 7. Miscellaneous. Give a brief history of your own life fromthe earliest times, being particular to state your vicious deeds inchronological order."
Stephen sighed a sigh of relief. "I can answer that, after a fashion,"he said; "but I can't even then be sure of all the dates. As for theothers--" and he dashed the paper down on the table with an air ofbewildered despair.
"What am I to do? They are all too hard for me. Oh! I wish I mightjust show them to Oliver. If I was only at home, mother could help me.Oh, dear! I wish I had never come here!"
And he gave himself over to the extreme of misery, and sat staring atthe wall until the twelve bell rang, and Oliver and Wraysford broke inon his solitude.
"Hullo, young 'un; in the dumps? Never mind; you'll be used to it in aday or two, won't he, Wray?"
"Of course you will," said Wraysford, cheerily; "it's hard lines atfirst. Keep your pecker up, young 'un."
The young 'un, despite this friendly advice, felt very far from keepingup his pecker. But he did his best, and worked his face into amelancholy sort of a smile.
"Fish us my spike shoes out of that cupboard, Stee, there's a goodfellow," said Oliver, "and come along to the cricket-field. There's abig practice on this afternoon."
Stephen hesitated.
"I've got to do my exam before ten to-morrow. Some one brought me upthe paper and said so. Perhaps I'd better stop here and do it?"
"I thought you weren't to be had up till the Doctor came back. Whobrought you the paper? I suppose it was Jellicott, the second master?"
"I suppose so," said Stephen, who had never heard of Mr Jellicott inhis life before.
"Let's have a look at it," said the elder brother.
"I promised I wouldn't."
"Oh, all serene; I only wanted to see the questions. It's a new dodgegiving papers, isn't it, Wray? We were examined _viva voce_ in theDoctor's study. Well, come on, old man, or we shall be late. You'llhave lots of time for that this evening."
And off they went, the wretched Stephen wrestling mentally with hisproblems all the while.
Of course, profound reader, you have made the brilliant discovery bythis time that Master Stephen Greenfield was a very green boy. So wereyou and I at his age; and so, after all, we are now. For the more wethink we know, the greener we shall find we are; that's a fact!
The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's: A School Story Page 4