Acton's Feud: A Public School Story
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CHAPTER XXVII
CONCERNING TODD AND COTTON
Knowing Acton's pride--his overwhelming pride--I never expected to seehim back at St. Amory's. I expected that he would almost have movedheaven and earth and got himself taken off the school books and gone tocomplete his education somewhere else rather than come back to the oldplace where he had had such a signal thrashing. But, of course, he knewjolly well that we four had our tongues tied, and that the knowledge ofhis defeat was, so to speak, strictly private property; and that is why,I am pretty sure, he turned up again.
He strolled up and down the High, arm-in-arm with Worcester, in highgood humour, on the day we returned; but when I turned the corner andcame upon him _vis-a-vis_ he gave me a long, level, steady look ofhatred, which told me that he had nursed his wrath to keep it warm. Hislook made me thoughtful. Young Jack Bourne, too, came sailing along--abreezy miniature copy of Phil, his brother--but when he caught sight ofhis former patron he blushed like a girl and scuttled into the firstavailable yard.
HE GAVE ME A LONG, STEADY LOOK OF HATRED.]
He was not particularly anxious to meet Acton, for Phil, in theholidays, had given Jack a pretty correct inkling of Acton's character,and he began to see--in fact, he did see--that Raffles and the shootingand the billiards, and the hocus pocus of "hedging on Grape Shot," andthe trip to London, etc., was only one involved, elaborate plot tostrike at Phil. Jack now fully realized that he had played a veryinnocent fly to Acton's consummate spider, and he now, when there wasn'tany very pressing necessity, determined to give the spider's parlour avery wide berth indeed. Acton saw Jack's little manoeuvre, and smiledgently. He was genuinely fond of Jack, but young Bourne had served hispurpose; and now, thought Acton, philosophically, "Jack looks upon me asa monster of iniquity, and he won't cultivate my acquaintance." AndPhil? Well, Phil regarded the incident as "closed," and paid no heed tohis enemy's bitter looks, but divided his attention between his booksand cricket, keeping, perhaps unnecessarily, a bright outlook uponMaster Jack.
Todd had come back to St. Amory's in a very different frame of mind fromthat in which he had returned after the Perry fiasco. His three weeks'holiday had been no end enjoyable; and now, besides a coin or two in hispocket, he had a clean, crisp note in his purse. As he stepped out ofthe train at the station, the burly figure of Jim Cotton hove in sight,and an eleven-inch palm clapped Gus on the back.
"Hallo! old man. How goes it?"
"Oh!" said Gus, coughing; "I'm all right, Jim, and your biceps seem intheir usual working order."
"They are, Gus. I've got a cab out here; we'll go on together."
"Rather! I must find some one to see to the traps, though."
"I've commandeered young Grim," said Jim, "and he'll see to them."
"Provident beggar! Here you are, Grim. Put mine into Taylor's cart, andhere's a shilling for you."
Grim, who felt rather injured at being lagged by Cotton so early in theterm, just at the moment, too, when he had caught sight of Wilsonstaggering along with a heavy hat-box, etc., seized Jim's and Gus'seffects. Todd's modest _douceur_, however, took off the rough edge ofhis displeasure.
After tea, Cotton and Todd strolled about, and finally came to anchorbehind the nets, where some of the Sixth were already at practice.
"Phil Bourne's good for a hundred at Lord's," said Jim, critically,watching Phil's clean, crisp cutting with interest.
"There's Acton out, too."
"Raw," said Jim. "Biffen's beauty has never been taught to hold his bat,that is evident. Footer is more his line, I take it."
"Are you going to have a try for the eleven, Jim, this year?"
"I'll see how things shape. If Phil Bourne gives me the hint that I havea chance, I'll take it, of course."
"Will he give Acton the hint, think you?"
"I shouldn't say so," said Jim, as Acton's stumps waltzed out of theground for the fourth time. "He can't play slows for toffee."
"Rum affair about the footer cap," said Gus.
"Rather so. But I believe Phil Bourne is as straight as a die. I'm notso sure of Acton, though. I fancy there's something to be explainedabout the cap. By the way, Gus, are you going to loaf about this term asusual? Taylor's house side really does want bigger fellows than it'sgot."
"No!" said Gus. "I'm no good at cricket, nor croquet, nor any othergame; nor do I really care a song about them. All the same, I'm notgoing to loaf."
"What is the idea?" said Jim, curiously.
"I'm going to have a shot for the history medal, and I mean to crawl upinto the first three in the Fifth."
"And you'll do 'em, Toddy," said Jim, admiringly. "You're not quite suchan ass as you once were."
"Well, I'll work evenly and regularly, and, perhaps, pull off one orother of them."
"I go, you know, at midsummer. Then I'm to cram somewhere for the Army.Taylor's been advising a treble dose of mathematics, and I think I'lloblige him this time."
"Taylor's not half a bad fellow," said Gus.
"Oh, you're a monomaniac on that subject, Gus! Once you felt ill if youmet Taylor or Corker on your pavement."
Jim Cotton was right. Gus was now a vastly different fellow from theshiftless, lazy, elusive Gus of old; he worked evenly and steadilyonward, and, in consequence, his name danced delightfully near the topof the weekly form-lists of the Fifth Form. He, however, did not sapeverlastingly, but on half holidays lounged luxuriantly on the schoolbenches, watching the cricket going on in the bright sunshine, or hewould take his rod and have an afternoon among the perch in theLodestone, that apology for a stream. Fishing was Gus's ideal ofathleticism; the exercise was gentle, and you sometimes had half a dozenperch for your trouble. Gus argued there was nothing to show for aneight hours' fag at cricket in a broiling sun.