The Hero of Garside School

by J. Harwood Panting

  CHAPTER IX

  GOOD ADVICE

  Instantly Paul crept under the bed, while Stanley as quickly crept in.Not an instant too soon, for the next moment the door opened and Mr.Weevil, candle in hand, entered. He held the light up, and glanced roundthe room; then came softly to the bed, and glanced down at Stanley.

  Stanley feigned sleep, but directly the light fell on his face hestarted up as though suddenly wakened, and, staring at the master withbewildered eyes, cried:

  "Where--where am I? What--what's the matter? Oh, it's Mr. Weevil. I begyour pardon, sir; but you so startled me. Is anything wrong?"

  "No; nothing wrong." Then the master added with a grim smile: "I onlywanted to see if you were quite--comfortable."

  "As comfortable as one can be in a place like this, sir."

  "It was your own fault you came here, remember, and it is an easy matterfor you to come out. I hope you've decided to give me an explanationto-morrow of that disgraceful scene I witnessed in the grounds."

  Stanley did not answer; and Mr. Weevil went out, locking the door oncemore behind him. It was not till he had gained his room that Paul creptfrom under the bed.

  "I put him off the scent, didn't I?" whispered Stanley. "If I hadn'tstarted up like I did, he would have looked under the bed. I'm certainhe would."

  "Very likely. The fat would have been in the fire then, with avengeance. But how about the explanation he asks for? Why not? A fewwords will do it."

  "It's not coming from me, if I stick here the term through," came thedogged answer. "Let Newall speak first; I'll follow."

  Paul knew that it was extremely difficult to move Stanley from hispurpose, when once he had decided on it. So he did not press the matterfurther just then, hoping that the morning would bring some change inthe situation. His mind went back to the scene in the next room, andStanley's went in the same direction, for the next moment he changed thesubject by asking:

  "How did Weevil get to know that man Zuker, I wonder?"

  "That's what puzzles me. The only explanation I can see is that Weevilcame across him in his travels, and is rubbing up his German by talkingwith him. Or perhaps they're interested in the same branch of science."

  "It's rather a late hour to patter German or science, isn't it?"

  The same thing occurred to Paul, but he could think of no otherexplanation of the mystery.

  "I wonder if the light's out now?"

  Paul climbed to the dormer, and, gently opening the window, looked alongto that of the next room. It was now in darkness.

  "Well, now you had better get back to your own bed," said Stanley, whenPaul had communicated to him the news.

  "I've come here for a night's lodging, and you're not going to be sohard-hearted as to turn me out."

  Stanley did not speak--in fact, he would have found it difficult at thatmoment. The fidelity of his friend appealed to him as few things couldhave done. It made him feel awfully soft, like a big girl or one of thekids in the junior forms. A senior schoolboy has always a great aversionto the display of emotion. He has a notion that it's unmanly and weak;so that when Stanley did speak he assumed a gruffness he was far fromfeeling.

  "Well, you're a muff--that's all I've got to say. I kick in my sleepsometimes--fearfully; so if you should find yourself on the floor in thenight time, don't say that I haven't warned you."

  Paul smiled as he coiled himself up by the side of his chum; and soonthey were fast asleep. Paul woke up at daybreak, and having expressed ahope that he would see Stanley back in his place that day, returnedwithout mishap to his dormitory. The light was only just stealing intothe room as he entered. His three companions seemed to be sleeping asplacidly as they had done when he left them.

  "I wonder if I've been missed?" he asked himself, as he looked at thesleepers. "I don't think so."

  Had he seen the figure in the end bed--the same that had watched him thenight before--open his eyes cautiously, and watch him curiously when hisback was turned, he would have come to a different conclusion. However,he was just as unconscious that Parfitt was watching him as he had beenthe night before. He lay down for another hour, then rose before firstbell had sounded, washed, dressed, and went out into the grounds.

  Early as it was he found Harry Moncrief there before him. He wore rathera dejected appearance.

  "I've had a beastly night, Paul," he said, coming forward to greet him."I couldn't sleep thinking of Stan. It's the longest night I've everhad, and all the other fellows were snoring like steam-engines, exceptthat new chap, Hibbert. I rather fancy Plunger had been playing prankswith his bed, but he didn't shout out or take on; so he was pluckierthan I was. Do you think the fellows here will look down on me forsnivelling?"

  "I cannot say. I hope so. Is young Hibbert out?"

  "He's somewhere about the ground, I think."

  Paul searched about the ground, but could see nothing of him. He turnedinto the field adjoining, and there he found him, sitting on the trunkof a tree, quite apart from the other boys, with his face resting on hishands.

  "He's just as soft as young Moncrief, but he's too proud to show it.He's been crying, I know."

  If the boy had been, he brushed away all sign of it when he heard Paul'sfootsteps, and started quickly to his feet. The frightened look in hiseyes disappeared when he saw who it was. They grew quite bright in aninstant.

  "What are you doing here, youngster?" said Paul kindly, placing a handupon the boy's shoulder. "You're not going to be a moper, are you? Thatwill never do."

  "A moper? No; but I'm different, I think, from most other boys. God hasmade me different, you see"--with a feeble attempt at a smile, as heglanced at his shoulder, "I don't care for the games most boys care for,and--and I like quiet places like this, away from the crowd."

  Paul could not help a feeling of pity as he followed the boy's glance tohis deformed shoulder. He was acutely sensitive to his deformity, andthat, perhaps, was the main reason why he shrank from the society ofother boys--why he preferred solitude.

  "Have the youngsters in your dormitory been ill-treating you?" he asked,regarding Hibbert closely as he put the question.

  "Oh, no!" came the quick answer. "They've had their fun, of course,which I enjoyed as much as any of them. I never mind a joke--indeed Idon't; so don't think they put upon me."

  Paul did not inquire what the jokes were. It was not well to inquire toocuriously into the jokes of the juniors. He had been through that millhimself. Besides, though he pitied Hibbert, he didn't want to encouragehim to tell tales out of school, especially as the boy seemed averse tothe practice.

  "You're a plucky little chap and as good as you're plucky, I'llwarrant."

  "Good--good? No, don't say that!" cried Hibbert, so earnestly that Paulcould not help regarding him in wonder.

  He stood with his thin hands pressed tightly into each other, so thatthe nails seemed piercing into his flesh; and the eyes that looked intoPaul's were quite wild and restless. In that moment it flashed intoPaul's mind that he had seen eyes like Hibbert's before, but where hecould not for the life of him make out.

  "Well, I won't say it if you don't like it," he laughed; "but you're thefirst one I've ever met with who objected to being thought good. I won'truffle your feathers again. Come, let's get back to the ground!"

  On entering the ground one of the first they came across was Newall,along with his crony, Parfitt. Remembering the cruel jibe Newall hadflung at Hibbert on the previous day, and what had afterwards happenedbetween him and Stanley, Paul tried to avoid him. He felt as though hecould hardly trust himself in his presence. But Newall would not beavoided. He came straight to them, and great was Paul's surprise when hesaid:

  "I think the advice you gave me yesterday was right enough, Percival. Iought to have spoken when the master asked for an explanation of theshindy between Moncrief and me. It might have saved him a night in thatsolitary hole--Dormitory X. But I mean speaking up this morning."

  "I'm very glad to hear it. I'm sure it's the righ
t thing. Moncrief willbe as pleased as I am."

  "Do you think so? Well, I'm glad of that; and I'm glad you think it'sthe right thing. I've slept on it, and that's what it's come to. Do youknow, Percival, I'm beginning to think you an authority on the rightthing to do? Parfitt is of the same mind. We were talking it over as youcame up, so your ears must have been burning."

  Paul regarded him quickly. Was he in jest or earnest? His face wasperfectly grave; so was the face of Parfitt.

  "Thanks for your flattering opinion. I shall know exactly how much totake to myself after you've spoken to Mr. Weevil."

  In spite of the apparent frankness of his manner and sincerity of tone,Paul could not help thinking that Newall was quietly mocking him--thathe had no intention whatever of speaking to the master.

  "That's the boy who called me a dromedary," said Hibbert, as they turnedaway. "I shan't forget him. He has a cruel face."

  Hibbert spoke with more bitterness than Paul had yet heard from him, andthere was a sparkle in his eyes, which sometimes had so much pain inthem, that Paul had never seen in them before.

  "Now, look here, youngster, if you're going to remember every rough wordyou hear at Garside, you'll have to have a very good memory. So take myadvice, forget all the things that aren't worth remembering, andremember only those that are. The jibe that fell from Newall isn't worthremembering. It's one of the things to forget. Promise me that you'llforget it?"

  "I'll try, as you ask me," said the boy sincerely, "though it'll bejolly hard. Things worth remembering! Yes, I know of one--your kindness.I shall always remember that."

  And before Paul could answer him he was gone.

  "A queer little beggar!" thought Paul. "He's got a good heart, though,in spite of the queer outside of him. Poor little chap, how lonely heseems!"

  Paul was more anxious than he had been for a long time for school tobegin that day. It seemed for the sole purpose of thwarting him that itcommenced later instead of earlier. Instead of commencing at the usualhour only one of the masters out of the six entered as the clock strucknine. Ten minutes elapsed, and still no masters. The boys commencedtalking in whispers. What had happened? Something was wrong. An accidentmust have happened. Or could it be that the illness of the Head hadtaken a turn for the worse?

  Paul feared that the absence of the masters must be in some way due toStanley. Perhaps they had discovered the visit he--Paul--had paid him inthe night. Perhaps they were discussing what was to be done with him.These and a hundred other suspicions flashed through his mind as hewaited the entrance of the masters.

  The hubbub in the school had grown louder. The boys no longer talked inwhispers; their tongues were wagging loudly. Mr. Travers, the master incharge, made no effort to restrain them. He was himself talking to oneof the Sixth Form boys.

  Suddenly, however, he broke off, and pressed the bell.

  "Silence!" he cried.

  In an instant the hubbub of voices ceased, as the door opened and themasters, headed by Mr. Weevil, entered the room.