by Sophie May
CHAPTER VII
"CAREW-BROWN"
It must be confessed that John Brown--or to be polite andup-to-date--John Carew-Brown surveyed the pupils of Wygate School with afighting eye, which is to say, he considered them carefully withregarded to their pugilistic abilities, and he decided very soon that he"could make them all sing small."
Even upon that first day when he, a new boy, had been standing in viewof the whole school, his mind had chiefly been occupied in running overthe boys' obvious fighting qualities--tall, short, fat, thin, all sortsand conditions of them were there.
The girls he had passed by with but slight notice; to him they wereabsolutely valueless and uninteresting. Betty Bruce had certainly caughthis attention by her public punishment, and he had been taken aback bythat sharp little pinch of hers. Hitherto he had had nothing to do withgirls but he supposed immediately that that was their manner offighting, and he did not admire it.
Not many days later an opportunity occurred for him to defend his newlyadopted name. Truth to tell, he had been longing for such an occasionfrom the day on which old Captain Carew had asked him to fight for hisname too.
He was in the playground, round by the school house, just where thebabies' end of the school room joined the cloak room, and school wasover for the day. Having a piece of chalk in one hand, and nothingparticular to do, he occupied a few minutes by writing upon the weatherboards of the cloak-room--"J. C. Brown, J. C. Brown, John C. Brown, JohnC. Brown," and the hinting C. raised a small dispute in a circle ofonlooking boys and girls.
It was Peter Bailey who said, "John Clara Brown," and it was sillylittle Jack Smith who said "John Codfish Brown."
A burst of laughter followed, and Peter Bailey and Jack Smith chasedeach other down the playground, and in and out among the sapling clumpaway at the end of it, where some shabby scrub and three gum trees grew.
When they came back, John Brown was still silently writing apparentlydeaf to all the surmising going on around him.
Nellie Underwood said it was--"Crabby John Brown," and Arthur Smedley,the school bully, said--"John Brown the clown."
Whereupon Brown sought out a clean weather-board a shade or so above hishead and wrote in bold letters.
"John Carew-Brown, Dene Hall, Willoughby," which made Bailey say--
"Hullo, he's got hold of Bruce's grandfather."
Cyril, who was one of the little circle of jesters, grew pink to thetips of his pretty pink ears, but feeling the majority and the bullywere against Brown, ventured to say--
"He's only running you!"
Nellie Underwood pushed herself into a prominent position in the groupand cried--
"I seen him coming out of Dene Hall gates, and old Mr. Carew was withhim. So there!"
John Brown chose another weather-board and the group closed round him toread--
"John Carew-Brown, only grandson of Captain Carew, of Dene Hall,Willoughby, Sydney, N.S. Wales, Australia, Southern Hemisphere," whichcertainly looked imposing and had the effect of silencing every one foralmost half a minute.
Then the bully's eyes glared into Cyril's pretty blue ones, and he saidangrily--
"You said you were the only grandson."
Cyril did not speak.
"You said," repeated the bully, "you said the Captain was going toadopt you, and give you his collection of guinea pigs."
Cyril hung his crimson face and kicked the ground with the toe of hisboot.
John Brown chose another weather-board and wrote--
"Captain Carew has no guinea pigs," which sent most of the blood awayfrom Cyril's face. The bully was eyeing him angrily, and even went asfar as doubling up one fist.
"You said he was going to give you five shillings a week pocket-money,and let you buy my white mice," he muttered, and Cyril found himselfface to face with the occasion, and with no clever intervening Betty tothrow the right word into the right place, and so save his skin and hishonour.
"So he is," he said, moving away from Brown as far as he dared--"and soI am the only grandson." He looked over his shoulder and beheld Brown'sback, whereupon he felt if Brown could not see he could not hear."_He's_ only the gardener's boy," he said; "ask"--his mind made a swiftexcursion for an authority--"ask my grandfather," he said, "any of youwho like, ask my grandfather."
Brown and his chalk advanced to Cyril.
"Who told you I was the gardener's boy?" he asked. Cyril looked from foeto foe, and the wild thought of denying he had said such words enteredhis mind, only to be followed by a swift remembrance of various daringdeeds of the bully's.
So he went over recklessly to Arthur Smedley's side.
"My grandfather!" he said.
"Are you going to be adopted?" asked the bully.
"Yes," said Cyril in desperation.
"Are you going to have five shillings a week?" demanded the bully.
"No--I'm going to have ten," roared Cyril.
A window belonging to Mr. Sharman's private house, which adjoined theschool, flew open, and John Brown's name was sharply called. It enteredinto Arthur Smedley's mind to see what writing remained upon the wall,and he went across to the cloak-room for that purpose.
Whereupon Cyril looked to the right of him, to the left of him, to theback of him, and beheld neither friend nor foe in his vicinity; and heheaved a sigh of great satisfaction, ran to the fence, squeezed himselfthrough a hole in it, and was upon the road towards home in a trice.
But before he had gone more than a hundred yards he heard quickfootsteps behind him, and looking over his shoulder he saw John C.Brown. Then did a sickening sense of terror sweep over him, and hisheart leapt into his mouth, for had he not said John Carew-Brown was"only the gardener's boy"?