Tales of St. Austin's

by P. G. Wodehouse

  _Chapter 3_

  The Easter term was nearing its end. Football, with the exception ofthe final House-match, which had still to come off, was over, and lifewas in consequence a trifle less exhilarating than it might have been.In some ways the last few weeks before the Easter holidays are quitepleasant. You can put on running shorts and a blazer and potter aboutthe grounds, feeling strong and athletic, and delude yourself into thenotion that you are training for the sports. Ten minutes at the broadjump, five with the weight, a few sprints on the track--it is all veryamusing and harmless, but it is apt to become monotonous after a time.And if the weather is at all inclined to be chilly, such an occupationbecomes impossible.

  Charteris found things particularly dull. He was a fair average runner,but there were others far better at every distance, so that he saw nouse in mortifying the flesh with strict training. On the other hand, inview of the fact that the final House-match had yet to be played, andthat Merevale's was one of the two teams that were going to play it, itbehoved him to keep himself at least moderately fit. The genial muffinand the cheery crumpet were still things to be avoided. He thus foundhimself in a position where, apparently, the few things which it waspossible for him to do were barred, and the net result was that he feltslightly dull.

  To make matters worse, all the rest of his set were working full timeat their various employments, and had no leisure for amusing him. Welchpractised hundred-yard sprints daily, and imagined that it would bequite a treat for Charteris to be allowed to time him. So he gave himthe stopwatch, saw him safely to the end of the track, and at a givensignal dashed off in the approved American style. By the time hereached the tape, dutifully held by two sporting Merevalian juniors,Charteris's attention had generally been attracted elsewhere. 'Whattime?' Welch would pant. 'By Jove,' Charteris would observe blandly, 'Iforgot to look. About a minute and a quarter, I fancy.' At which Welch,who always had a notion that he had done it in ten and a fifth_that_ time, at any rate, would dissemble his joy, and mildlysuggest that somebody else should hold the watch. Then there was JimThomson, generally a perfect mine of elevating conversation. He was infor the mile and also the half, and refused to talk about anythingexcept those distances, and the best methods for running them in theminimum of time. Charteris began to feel a blue melancholy stealingover him. The Babe, again. He might have helped to while away the longhours, but unfortunately the Babe had been taken very bad with a notionthat he was going to win the 'cross-country run, and when, in additionto this, he was seized with a panic with regard to the prospects of theHouse team in the final, and began to throw out hints concerning stricttraining, Charteris regarded him as a person to be avoided. If he fledto the Babe for sympathy now, the Babe would be just as likely as notto suggest that he should come for a ten-mile spin with him, to get himinto condition for the final Houser. The very thought of a ten-milespin made Charteris feel faint. Lastly, there was Tony. But Tony'scompany was worse than none at all. He went about with his arm in asling, and declined to be comforted. But for his injury, he would bynow have been training hard for the Aldershot Boxing Competition, andthe fact that he was now definitely out of it had a very depressingeffect upon him. He lounged moodily about the gymnasium, watchingMenzies, who was to take his place, sparring with the instructor, andrefused consolation. Altogether, Charteris found life a distinct bore.

  He was reduced to such straits for amusement, that one Wednesdayafternoon, finding himself with nothing else to do, he was working at aburlesque and remarkably scurrilous article on 'The Staff, by one whohas suffered', which he was going to insert in _The Glow Worm_, anunofficial periodical which he had started for the amusement of theSchool and his own and his contributors' profit. He was just warming tohis work, and beginning to enjoy himself, when the door opened withouta preliminary knock. Charteris deftly slid a piece of blotting-paperover his MS., for Merevale occasionally entered a study in this manner.And though there was nothing about Merevale himself in the article, itwould be better perhaps, thought Charteris, if he did not see it. Butit was not Merevale. It was somebody far worse. The Babe.

  The Babe was clothed as to his body in football clothes, and as toface, in a look of holy enthusiasm. Charteris knew what that lookmeant. It meant that the Babe was going to try and drag him out for arun.

  'Go away, Babe,' he said, 'I'm busy.'

  'Why on earth are you slacking in here on this ripping afternoon?'

  'Slacking!' said Charteris. 'I like that. I'm doing berrain work, Babe.I'm writing an article on masters and their customs, which will cause aprofound sensation in the Common Room. At least it would, if they eversaw it, but they won't. Or I hope they won't for their sake _and_mine. So run away, my precious Babe, and don't disturb your uncle whenhe's busy.'

  'Rot,' said the Babe firmly, 'you haven't taken any exercise for aweek.'

  Charteris replied proudly that he had wound up his watch only lastnight. The Babe refused to accept the remark as relevant to the matterin hand.

  'Look here, Alderman,' he said, sitting down on the table, and gazingsternly at his victim, 'it's all very well, you know, but the finalcomes on in a few days, and you know you aren't in any too goodtraining.'

  'I am,' said Charteris, 'I'm as fit as a prize fighter. Simply full ofbeans. Feel my ribs.'

  The Babe declined the offer.

  'No, but I say,' he said plaintively, 'I wish you'd treat it seriously.It's getting jolly serious, really. If Dacre's win that cup again thisyear, that'll make four years running.'

  'Not so,' said Charteris, like the mariner ofinfinite-resource-and-sagacity; 'not so, but far otherwise. It'll onlymake three.'

  'Well, three's bad enough.'

  'True, oh king, three is quite bad enough.'

  'Well, then, there you are. Now you see.'

  Charteris looked puzzled.

  'Would you mind explaining that remark?' he said. 'Slowly.'

  But the Babe had got off the table, and was prowling round the room,opening cupboards and boxes.

  'What are you playing at?' enquired Charteris.

  'Where do you keep your footer things?'

  'What do you want with my footer things, if you don't mind my asking?'

  'I'm going to help you put them on, and then you're coming for a run.'

  'Ah,' said Charteris.

  'Yes. Just a gentle spin to keep you in training. Hullo, this lookslike them.'

  He plunged both hands into a box near the window and flung out a massof football clothes. It reminded Charteris of a terrier digging at arabbit-hole.

  He protested.

  'Don't, Babe. Treat 'em tenderly. You'll be spoiling the crease inthose bags if you heave 'em about like that. I'm very particular abouthow I look on the football field. _I_ was always taught to dressmyself like a little gentleman, so to speak. Well, now you've seenthem, put 'em away.'

  'Put 'em on,' said the Babe firmly.

  'You are a beast, Babe. I don't want to go for a run. I'm getting tooold for violent exercise.'

  'Buck up,' said the Babe. 'We mustn't chuck any chances away. Now thatTony can't play, we shall have to do all we know if we want to win.'

  'I don't see what need there is to get nervous about it. Consideringwe've got three of the First three-quarter line, and the Second Fifteenback, we ought to do pretty well.'

  'But look at Dacre's scrum. There's Prescott, to start with. He's worthany two of our men put together. Then they've got Carter, Smith, andHemming out of the first, and Reeve-Jones out of the second. And theiroutsides aren't so very bad, if you come to think of it. Bannister's inthe first, and the other three-quarters are all good. And they've gotboth the second halves. You'll have practically to look after both ofthem now that Tony's crocked. And Baddeley has come on a lot thisterm.'

  'Babe,' said Charteris, 'you have reason. I will turn over a new leaf.I _will_ be good. Give me my things and I'll come for a run. Onlyplease don't let it be anything over twenty miles.'

  'Good man,' said the gratified Babe. 'We won't
go far, and will take itquite easy.'

  'I tell you what,' said Charteris. 'Do you know a place called Worbury?I thought you wouldn't, probably. It's only a sort of hamlet, twocottages, three public-houses, and a duck-pond, and that sort of thing.I only know it because Welch and I ran there once last year. It's inthe Badgwick direction, about three miles by road, mostly along thelevel. I vote we muffle up fairly well, blazers and sweaters and so on,run to Worbury, tea at one of the cottages, and back in time forlock-up. How does that strike you?'

  'It sounds all right. How about tea though? Are you certain you can getit?'

  'Rather. The Oldest Inhabitant is quite a pal of mine.'

  Charteris's circle of acquaintances was a standing wonder to the Babeand other Merevalians. He seemed to know everybody in the county.

  When once he was fairly started on any business, physical or mental,Charteris generally shaped well. It was the starting that he found thedifficulty. Now that he was actually in motion, he was enjoying himselfthoroughly. He wondered why on earth he had been so reluctant to comefor this run. The knowledge that there were three miles to go, and thathe was equal to them, made him feel a new man. He felt fit. And thereis nothing like feeling fit for dispelling boredom. He swung along withthe Babe at a steady pace.

  'There's the cottage,' he said, as they turned a bend of the road, andWorbury appeared a couple of hundred yards away. 'Let's sprint.' Theysprinted, and arrived at the door of the cottage with scarcely a yardbetween them, much to the admiration of the Oldest Inhabitant, who wassmoking a thoughtful pipe in his front garden. Mrs Oldest Inhabitantcame out of the cottage at the sound of voices, and Charteris broachedthe subject of tea. The menu was sumptuous and varied, and even theBabe, in spite of his devotion to strict training, could scarce forbearto smile happily at the mention of hot cakes.

  During the _mauvais quart d'heure_ before the meal, Charteris keptup an animated conversation with the Oldest Inhabitant, the Babejoining in from time to time when he could think of anything to say.Charteris appeared to be quite a friend of the family. He enquiredafter the Oldest Inhabitant's rheumatics. It was gratifying to findthat they were distinctly better. How had Mrs O. I. been since his lastvisit? Prarper hearty? Excellent. How was the O. I.'s nevvy?

  At the mention of his nevvy the O. I. became discursive. He told hisaudience everything that had happened in connection with the said nevvyfor years back. After which he started to describe what he wouldprobably do in the future. Amongst other things, there were going to besome sports at Rutton today week, and his nevvy was going to try andwin the cup for what the Oldest Inhabitant vaguely described as 'arace'. He had won it last year. Yes, prarper good runner, his nevvy.Where was Rutton? the Babe wanted to know. About eight miles out ofStapleton, said Charteris, who was well up in local geography. You gotthere by train. It was the next station.

  Mrs O. I. came out to say that tea was ready, and, being drawn into theconversation on the subject of the Rutton sports, produced a programmeof the same, which her nevvy had sent them. From this it seemed thatthe nevvy's 'spot' event was the egg and spoon race. An asteriskagainst his name pointed him out as the last year's winner.

  'Hullo,' said Charteris, 'I see there's a strangers' mile. I'm a demonat the mile when I'm roused. I think I shall go in for it.'

  He handed the programme back and began his tea.

  'You know, Babe,' he said, as they were going back that evening, 'Ireally think I shall go in for that race. It would be a most awful rag.It's the day before the House-match, so it'll just get me fit.'

  'Don't be a fool,' said the Babe. 'There would be a fearful row aboutit if you were found out. You'd get extras for the rest of your life.'

  'Well, the final Houser comes off on a Thursday, so it won't affectthat.'

  'Yes, but still--'

  'I shall think about it,' said Charteris. 'You needn't go tellinganyone.'

  'If you'll take my advice, you'll drop it.'

  'Your suggestion has been noted, and will receive due attention,' saidCharteris. 'Put on the pace a bit.'

  They lengthened their stride, and conversation came to an abrupt end.