Two Worlds and Their Ways

by Ivy Compton-Burnett

  “There is not time. We go home in two days.”

  “Well, the sooner it comes, the sooner it will be over,” said Sturgeon.

  “True,” said Sefton lightly, unable to imagine the latter stage.

  “We could lend you enough between us,” said Bacon. “That is, if you really think it is a wise course.”

  “No, thank you. I won’t take it. You will need it on the journey. And, after all, I am accustomed to imposing my own ideas at home.”

  “You may find the idea of cheating through a term an exception,” said Bacon.

  “Oh, parents don’t use those words about little, trivial, school affairs.”

  “I wonder what words the report will use.”

  “Two different people will write them, Spode and Bigwell,” said Sefton, on a note of interest. “It will be amusing to see what they make of it.”

  “If amusement is your feeling.”

  “I suppose you began by wanting to be a success?” said Holland, puzzled by ambition in one under so little pressure to realise it.

  “Something of the kind. I really can’t quite explain. The whole thing was a novelty to me. And then the ball gathered force as it rolled. You know how it is.”

  “Yes,” said Holland and Sturgeon.

  “No, we do not know,” said Bacon. “We are not versed in such courses.”

  “What does your brother say about it?” said Holland.

  “Oliver? Oh, I don’t know. I daresay he has not heard anything. What is it to do with him?”

  “Will you go home with him?” said Sturgeon.

  “We shall travel together in the normal way.”

  “Couldn’t you intercept the report and destroy it?” said Holland. “It comes in the first few days. You could watch the posts and get hold of it. Your parents might not think of its coming.”

  “Hardly worth while,” said Sefton, in a considering manner. “It would waste the first days of the holidays. I should have to think of nothing else.”

  “You know you will do that anyhow,” said Bacon. “But it is not worth while to get any deeper in the mire. Your parents might be looking for the report too. It would not do for your all to intercept it together.”

  “They would hardly think so much about it. But my brother would know it would come, wouldn’t he? Why he will have to write reports himself. That might put it into his head.”

  “It is a good thing that parents do not see the people at the school,” said Holland.

  “Or only on festive occasions, when it cannot be called seeing them,” said Sturgeon.

  “Or seeing the parents either,” said Bacon.

  “The Cassidys will come to us for part of the holidays,” said Sefton. “They are related, you know, connections of some kind, really relations of Oliver’s. But they don’t talk about the school when they are with us. Before I came here I hardly knew they kept one.”

  “They must have talked about it, when it was arranged for you to come to it,” said Sturgeon.

  “This time you will know that they keep one, and that you are at it,” said Bacon.

  “Will you come back next term?” said Holland. “Or will you be expelled?”

  “There has not been any talk of it. If I were, my life would be a perpetual holiday. There would be nothing to mind in that.”

  “Make no mistake,” said Sturgeon.

  “Shelley does not make as many as you think,” said Bacon.

  “Wouldn’t you have your tutor again?” said Holland.

  “Oh, yes, I suppose I should. Yes, that was a mistake.”

  “I wonder if the masters are discussing you at this moment,” said Sturgeon. “I believe people are always talking about what we should expect.”

  “They are engaged with their own business,” said Sefton. “I don’t suppose they take so much interest in mine.”

  “Your affairs are interesting enough at the moment,” said Bacon. “And I expect they think so. They would not be so different from other people.”

  It was Bacon who took the correct view, or took it openly. Sefton was the subject of the talk in the common room, where the group had been joined by Lucius and Juliet.

  “Do I understand that the child has cheated through the term?” said Oliver. “For one thing, I should not have thought he had it in him.”

  “I agree that he must have a good deal in him,” said Juliet. “Only a resourceful person could have done it. I do not know why he came to school, when he had progressed so far.”

  “I wonder if we ought to keep him there,” said Lucius.

  “Why should pupils be expelled for wrongdoing? If schools cannot train them, what is their purpose?”

  “We must think of his influence over the other boys.”

  “Well, that seems to be good. He kept all knowledge of evil from them. It is not his fault, if their ears have been sullied by it.”

  “Did you not suspect anything, Spode?” said Oliver.

  “Not at first. I pampered him and spoke him honeyed words. Then I saw the cloud as big as a man’s hand. And when he came down so much in his papers, I went to his desk and examined his work. And what I have told you, was made plain.”

  “How dreadful to be a child!” said Juliet. “Suppose someone went to our desks and examined our private papers! Because it must be said that these were private.”

  “It was leaving him so much to himself, that led to the trouble,” said Lucius. “He should have been treated as a child from the beginning.”

  “So he should, if he was going to be in the end.”

  “And he hoodwinked you too, Bigwell?” said Oliver.

  “Well, I did not think of his having translations,” said Mr. Bigwell, as though this were not a likely line of thought. “He had no opportunity to buy them. He must have had them in his possession.”

  “Well, they are not rare things.”

  “No, I suppose not,” said Mr. Bigwell, accepting light on the subject.

  “I must not say that I wish it had been any other boy,” said Lucius. “But its being the child of relations complicates the issue.”

  “Can’t you wish it had been no boy at all?” said his wife. “And why must there be an issue? When we resent parents’ interference in so many things, ought we to demand it in others?”

  “Perhaps it is inconsistent.”

  “You are clutching at a straw. And when people do that, it does sometimes save them.”

  “But how can we write a report with any meaning, without allusion to the matter? And the boy should be checked in his course for his own sake.”

  “Are you really thinking what is involved for him? He will not see it as arranged for his benefit.”

  “And yet it is, Mrs. Cassidy,” said Mr. Bigwell.

  “The report must be written, including my own, as if for any other boy,” said Lucius. “I cannot see my way to anything else. I should only be saving myself.”

  “And that, of course, you must not do,” said his wife. “Sefton must be sacrificed to prevent it.”

  “The boy looks better for having the strain off his mind,” said Mr. Bigwell, who did not know of the nightly demand on Sefton’s body.

  “Did you notice nothing amiss with him, Oliver?” said Lucius.

  “My dear sir, I hardly ever see him. And relations are known to miss what is clear to other people.”

  “Oliver, remember you are not at home,” said Juliet. “What an honest phrase that is!”

  “I am glad he steered a straight course with me,” said Mr. Dalziel. “I never leave my boys to work without supervision.”

  “You mean you steered his course for him,” said Mr. Spode. “And naturally you steered it straight.”

  “I do not believe in treating boys as natural deceivers,” said Mr. Bigwell. “If you trust people, they become worthy of trust.”

  “So they do. Sefton destroyed his keys,” said Juliet.

  “I know it is the Catholic view that boys should be watched from morning
till night. But there is something repellent to a Protestant in such mistrustfulness.”

  “If I may say so, you know nothing about the Catholic view,” said Mr. Dalziel.

  “May he say so, Mr. Bigwell?” said Juliet.

  “Well, suspicion is the keynote of the system.”

  “You know nothing about the system, as you call it.”

  “Well, what would you call it?”

  “Giving something a name does not put it in its place.”

  “It is because it is in its place, that it has the name.”

  “I can’t help being glad that Sefton only cheated two of you,” said Juliet. “Or would it have been better if he had done the same to you all? It was nice of him not to cheat you, Oliver. People are generally worst to their own families.”

  “He does not learn music. My stepmother likes him to be different from me.”

  “Is your family musical, Mr. Spode?” said Juliet, with no suggestion of a change of subject.

  “My mother is one of those people who do not know one note from another. That means that they do not concern themselves with notes. I do not know about my father. He died when I was born.”

  “What?” said more than one voice.

  “It appears to have been the case. There is a primitive people, whose men take to their beds when their wives have children. It seems that my father followed that course, and never rose again.”

  “So your mother is a widow?” said Mr. Bigwell.

  “That is one of the consequences.”

  “We must remember that Mrs. Cassidy is present.”

  “I did remember it. I was trying to cause her some amusement.”

  “Thank you so much,” said Juliet. “You have quite taken my thoughts off our disgrace.”

  “Oh, the little boy’s lapse hardly comes up to that, Mrs. Cassidy,” said Mr. Bigwell.

  “If lapse is the word,” said Lucius. “It lasted for a term.”

  “It was a sustained one,” said Oliver.

  “It has been kind of you to let us come and discuss it,” said Juliet. “And it was clever to find it out, when it had gone on for so long. It seems it might have gone on for ever. And it was nice not to have discovered it before. It shows so much undestroyed faith in boys. And Sefton must have had a lot of undeserved praise, and that is known to be the hardest thing to bear. And that must have been so salutary.”

  “It is always part of the gentlest method to find the hardest thing,” said Mr. Spode.

  “The praise was not that in this case,” said Mr. Bigwell. “I am afraid we have found it, but what are we to do?”

  “Convention is too strong for you,” said Juliet. “It always is. If it were not, it would be no good. It is unfair to blame us for being the slaves of it. What else can we be?”

  “The boy had given up cheating of his own accord,” said Lucius. “That can be said for him.”

  “And for ourselves as well,” said his wife. “It does show the influence of the school.”

  “I should not talk to the boy of the matter, Oliver. Leave it to his parents. They cannot be spared.”

  “I never talk to children of their failings. It implies that I have none myself, and they know the truth. Children and animals are never wrong.”

  “Neither are the working classes,” said Juliet; “they always know. And women cannot be wrong, with their penetration. And doctor’s and clergymen’s testimony is always accepted. I wonder who is wrong. Perhaps it is only schoolmasters.”

  “Well,” said Lucius, holding out his hand without any indication who was to grasp it, in his usual avoidance of preferential dealing, “we shall reassemble at the beginning of next term.”

  “And now we shall find ourselves outside the door,” said Juliet. “And that will be so useful. It is such an awkward thing to have to happen so often.”

  “Will you and my nephew come with me for a moment, Spode?” said Lucius, in a tone so incidental as to sound like a rejoinder.

  “Two handshakes wasted!” said his wife. “And worse. You will have to shake hands twice as much with some people as with others.”

  “The friendship between you—perhaps it is rather too evident,” said Lucius, with his eyes on the ground.

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “Is this a thing to talk about in the passage?” said Juliet. “Or couldn’t it be talked about anywhere else?”

  “It is not what I looked for,” said Oliver. “I thought I might meet the sort of thing at school, even hoped to do so; but I never thought I should have to bring it with me.”

  “We should know better than to betray it,” said Mr. Spode. “We are congenial to each other. We have much in common. It is a good thing in our lives, and we are lovely and pleasant in them.”

  “I was not suggesting anything else,” said Lucius, faltering as he found himself committed so far.

  “And we have the same Christian name,” said Oliver.

  “Have you?” said Juliet. “Oliver?”

  “Yes. It had to be that, to be the same.”

  “Well, that is a coincidence of a kind,” said Lucius.

  “You should not speak contemptuously of anything,” said Juliet. “And I am sure it is quite a good coincidence. Do they call each other by the name?”

  “No doubt they can tell you?”

  “Perhaps they modify it in one case. But there are no names like Oliver, but Olivia. And that would not do. You need not look at me, Lucius. I said it would not do.”

  “Am I to have no interest in life but what I produce myself?” said Oliver.

  “That note is not in place,” said Lucius. “I am merely suggesting that you should veil your intimacy. You do not misunderstand me.”

  “I wonder if they do,” said Juliet. “I am not sure if I do or not.”

  “Well, that is all,” said Lucius, still looking at the ground. “We have said goodbye.”

  “That may be fortunate,” said Juliet, as they moved away. “It was better to shake hands before they refused to do so.”

  “It escaped me that you were here.”

  “It escaped me, too. But Mr. Bigwell was not here to remind us.”

  “Well, I have met the problems of school,” said Oliver. “Cheating and this. And it has all been provided by my own family. It was not necessary to leave home at all.”

  “If Cassidy meant no more than he said, he would hardly have said it,” said Mr. Spode. “It is a poor return for three terms’ faithful service. We will revenge ourselves by having a lifelong friendship. He will not like us to have what he does not have himself.”

  “I believe he says just what he means. That is probably why he does not have the friendships.”

  The other masters were waiting in suspense, as the boys had done at another moment.

  “Yes, we may turn our eyes to the holidays,” said Mr. Bigwell, as though continuing the talk. “For me, four weeks of home, with a family who see me as a worldly success. And a few days of visiting, of course.”

  “Four weeks of visiting. I have no home,” said Mr. Dalziel.

  “Sad,” said Mr. Spode.

  “Four weeks at home with a family who see me as no success at all,” said Oliver. “And when my uncle comes to stay, some of the school as well.”

  “Four weeks with my mother,” said Mr. Spode. “One with affection and familiar chat; one with less; one with none; one with other things. Sad.”

  “I wonder that the Head wanted you, Shelley, when he was to have the further chance of unburdening himself,” said Mr. Bigwell. “But, of course, he wanted you both.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Mr. Spode. “And Mrs. Cassidy was present.”

  The four boys came along the passage, and Oliver addressed his brother through the open door.

  “Ten o’clock on Thursday, and no doubt about it! I am not to be kept waiting.”

  “No, and neither am I. That is a bargain,” said Sefton, in a distinct tone, glancing at his companions.


  They paid him no attention. Their eyes were on Bacon, who was about to deliver his mind.

  “Ought we to thank Miss James for all she has done for us this term?”

  “Do people generally do it?” said Holland.

  “It would be an awkward thing to do, if it is not done,” said Sturgeon.

  “Perhaps we ought not to think of that,” said Bacon. “I don’t think it can all have been included in her duties. And it would not do to take extra things as a matter of course.”

  “It might hurt her feelings,” said Holland. “She is the sort of person who would notice it.”

  “And then we should suffer remorse,” said Sturgeon, just blinking his eyes.

  “Who would dare to begin?” said Holland.

  “We must draw lots,” said Bacon.

  “No,” said Sturgeon. “Shelley is under a cloud, and Miss James may know about it. I am too awkward and undersized. Holland is too ordinary. Bacon is the one. Miss James will think more of anything that comes from him. And people must fulfil the duties of their place.”

  Bacon turned his steps towards Miss James’s door, his lips firm and his face pale, as he set himself to pay the price of that which was in him.

  “Thank you very much for all you have done for us this term.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Sturgeon and Sefton in one breath.

  “Thank you very much, Miss James,” said Holland.

  “Well, this is nice of you boys,” said Miss James, rising and coming to meet them. “I appreciate it very much. I shall not forget it. I shall think of it afterwards. And you will remember to knock at the door another time. And Holland remembered to say my name. Will you stay behind for a moment, Shelley?”

  The last words just anticipated the closing of the door, and Sefton turned and faced her.

  “Now, Shelley, I keep to my own sphere in the school. But a rumour has reached me, and I want to say one word to you, just as you wanted to say one to me. I am so sure that such a thing can never happen again, that you will rise above it, because you are above it in yourself, that I feel it must be as I say. Just because I feel so sure. Do you not agree with me?”

  “Yes, Miss James,” said Sefton, not questioning Miss James’s part in the matter.

  “Then thank you once more for what you said. And goodbye and happy holidays.”