CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
We boys used to think the days at old Browne's very long and tedious,and often enough feel a mortal hatred of Euclid as a tyrant who hadinvented geometry for the sake of driving boys mad. What distaste, too,we had for all the old Romans who had bequeathed their language to us;just as if English wasn't ten times better, Mercer used to say.
"Bother their old declensions and conjugations!" he would cry. "What'sthe good of them all? I call it a stupid language to have no properprepositions and articles and the rest of it: tucking i's, a's, and e'sat the end of words instead."
But what days they were after all--days that never more return! TheDoctor was pretty stern at times, and gave us little rest. Mr Rebbleseemed to be always lying in wait to puzzle us with questions, and MrHasnip appeared to think that we never had enough to learn; while theGerman and French masters, who came over twice a week from Hastings,both seemed to have been born with the idea that there was nothing ofthe slightest consequence in the way of our studies but the tongues theytaught. And oh, the scoldings we received for what they called ourneglect and stupidity!
"_Ach, dumkopf_!" the German master would cry wrathfully; while theFrench master had a way of screwing up his eyes, wrinkling his face, andgrinding his teeth at our pronunciation.
I'm afraid we hated them all, in complete ignorance of the other side ofthe case, and the constant unwearying application they gave to a set ofreckless young rascals, who construed Latin with their lips and the gamethat was to be played that afternoon with their brains.
I confess it. I must have been very stupid in some things, sharp as Iwas in others, and I have often thought since that Mr Rebble'sirritability was due to the constant trouble we gave him; that MrHasnip was at heart a thorough gentleman; and as for "Old Browne," as wecalled him, he was a ripe scholar and a genuine loveable old Englishman,with the health and welfare of his boys thoroughly at heart.
We thought nothing of it. A boy's nature does not grasp all thesethings. To us it was a matter of course that, if we were ill, MrsDoctor should have us shut up in another part of the house, and, withher two daughters, risk infection, and nurse us back to health. I couldnot see then, but I can now, what patient devotion was given to us. Ofcourse I could not see it, for I was a happy, thoughtless boy, living mygolden days, when to breathe and move was a genuine pleasure, and theclouds and troubles that shut off a bit of life's sunshine only made thelight the brighter when it came again!
Ah! it's a grand thing to be a boy, with all your life before you, andif any young sceptic who reads these words, and does not skip thembecause he thinks they are prosy preaching, doubts what I say, let himwait. It is the simple truth, and I am satisfied, for I know that hewill alter his tune later on.
In spite, then, of the many troubles I had to go through, with theweariness of much of the learning, it was a delightful life I led, andthough a little dumpy at leaving home after the holidays, I hadforgotten my low spirits long before I got back to the Doctor's, and waslooking forward longingly to seeing old faces, wondering what the newones would be like, and eager to renew my friendly relations with TomMercer, Lomax, Bob Hopley, and Cook, and to give them the littlepresents I was taking back.
These were mere trifles, but they went a long way with the recipients.Tom Mercer declared that the blade of the knife I gave him was the bestbit of steel he ever saw. It wasn't: for, unless the edge wasconstantly renewed, there never was such a knife to cut.
Lomax's gift was more satisfactory, for my uncle got it for me with agrim smile, as he thought, I know, of his old soldiering days. It was aquarter of a pound of very choice Virginia tobacco, and it delighted theold sergeant so, that I thought he would have hugged me. I don't knowhow long that lasted, but I am sure he hoarded some of it up for nearlya year, and he would call my attention to its "glorious scent," as hecalled it, though to me it was very nasty indeed.
Bob Hopley's present was a red and orange silk kerchief, which he woreproudly on Sundays, and Cook's was in a small box prepared by mymother--a cap with wonderful flowers and ribbons, which obtained for TomMercer and me endless little supper snacks as tokens of the woman'sdelight and gratitude.
So, as time sped on, I had grown so accustomed to the life at "OldBrowne's," that I felt little objection, as I have said, to returningafter the Christmas holidays; though the weather was bad and there was along while to wait before there could be much pleasure in out-doorsports. But the spring came at last with its pear and apple blossom,the hops began to run up the poles, May and June succeeded, and glidedon so that I could hardly believe it when the midsummer holidays camewithout my feeling that I had advanced much in the past six months.
I suppose I had, for I had worked hard, and the letter I bore home fromthe Doctor quite satisfied my mother who afterwards informed me inconfidence that my uncle was greatly pleased.
Six weeks' holidays were before me, but, before they were at an end, Iwas beginning to get weary, and longing for the day to come when my newthings were brought home ready to try on, pack up, and return to school.
To my studies and interviews with the masters?
Oh, no! nothing of the kind; but to where there were woods and ponds,and the General's cob for my riding lessons, and the cricket-field.
I'm afraid my mother must have thought me careless and unloving. I hopeI was not, in my eagerness to get back to Tom Mercer, who made my schoollife most interesting by his quaintness. For I was always ready toenter into his projects, some of which were as amusing as they were new.
I had seen little of my uncle when I was home last, but he wrote to metwice--stern, military-toned letters, each of which was quite a despatchin itself. In these he laid down the law to me, giving me the best ofadvice, but it was all very Spartan-like. He insisted above all thingsupon my recollecting that I was to be a soldier, and that a soldier wasalways a gentleman and a man of honour, and each time he finished hisletter in these words,--
"Never tell a lie, Frank; never do a dirty action; keep yourself smartand clean; and, by the way, I send you a sovereign to spend in trash."
"Only wish I had such an uncle," Tom Mercer used to say. "My fatherwould send me money if he could spare it, but he says his patients won'tpay. They're civil enough when they're ill, but when he has wound uptheir clocks, and set them going again, they're as disagreeable as canbe if he wants his bill."
This was after I had gone back from the midsummer holidays.
"Did you ask him for money, then?"
"Yes, and he said that if he wrote at midsummer and asked for payment,the farmers told him they'd pay after harvest, and if he wanted it afterharvest, they said they'd pay at. Christmas, and when Christmas came,they told him to wait till midsummer. Oh, won't I serve 'em out if everI'm a doctor!"
"What would you do?" I said.
"Give 'em such a dose!"
"Not you, Tom."
"Oh, won't I! I don't care, though; father gave me a crown and mammahalf a one."
"And enough too. What a fellow you are to grumble!"
"That I'm not. I wanted 'em to buy me a watch."
"Get out! What a fellow you are! Next time the chaps want a nicknamefor you, I shall call you Watchman."
"All right! I don't mind; but I shan't be happy till I have a watch."
"That's what you used to say about Magglin's take-to-pieces gun, but younever got it, and you've been happy enough without."
"Oh, have I?" said Mercer. "You don't know. I used to long for thatgun."
Two or three days afterwards, in one of our strolls, when we were bothcoming back laden with odds and ends for the museum up in the loft,Mercer proposed that we should cross a field and get into the lowerlane, so as to call at Polly Hopley's to get something to eat.
I was nothing loth, and we struck off across country, got into the laneabout a couple of hundred yards from the keeper's lodge, and thensuddenly stopped short.
"Hush!" I said, as shouts and cries reached our ears.
"There's something the matter," cried Mercer. "Come on."
We set off at a run, and as we passed a bend in the lane, we came fullin sight of the keeper's cottage, and saw him in the middle of the road,holding a rough-looking figure by the collar, keeping it down upon itsknees, while he vigorously used a stick upon the object's back, in spiteof cries and protestations, till there was a sudden wrench, and whoeverit was dragged himself away and ran down the lane, Polly Hopley standingat the cottage door laughing, while her father wiped his brow with thesleeve of his coat.
"Hullo, young gents!" he cried. "You were just too late to see thefun."
"Saw some of it, Bob," I said. "But who was it?"
"Didn't you see, sir?"
"I did," cried Mercer. "It was old Magglin."
"Yes, and I'll Magglin him!" cried Bob wrathfully.
"What's he been doing?" I said. "Poaching?"
"Eh? Yes, sir, poaching, that's what he's been up to," said Bob, with aside glance at Polly, who threw her apron over her face, burst outlaughing, and ran into the cottage. "He've been told over and overagain to keep away, but it's no good, so I've started this here hazelsaplin' for him and I've been beating his carpet for him nicely. Idon't think he'll come any more."
"What does he come poaching after, Bob--the sweets?" said Mercer.
"Um! Yes, the sweets," said Bob drily; "and he ain't going to have 'em.A lazy, poaching, dishonest scoundrel, that's what he is. I did thinkwe'd got rid of him lots o' times, but he's like a bad shilling, healways comes back. Well, never mind him, sir. When are you coming tohave a day's fishing? Sir Orkus told me only t'other day you was to belooked after if you come."
"Oh, some day soon," I said. "We've got a big cricket match coming onfirst."
"Ay? Well, I must come and see that, young gents. I used to be fond ofbowling myself."
We shook hands with the keeper, and then went into the cottage to buy acouple of Polly's turnovers, and found her looking very red-faced andshy, but she was businesslike enough over taking the money, and we wentoff browsing down the lane upon Polly's pastry and blackberry jam.
"Magg wants to marry Polly," I said oracularly. "Don't you rememberthat day when we went round by the back, and heard her ordering himoff?"
"Yes, I remember," said Mercer, with his mouth full. "I was thinkingabout it. I don't wonder at Bob whacking him. Polly's too good forsuch a miserable, shuffling, cheating fellow as he is. I hate him now.I used to like him, though I didn't like him. I liked him because hewas so clever at getting snakes and hedgehogs and weasels. He alwaysknew where to find lizards. But he's a cheat. You pay him, and then hesays you didn't, and keeps on worrying you for more money. I'll neverbuy anything of him again."
"That's what you always say, Tom," I replied, "and next time he has agood bird or anything, you buy it."
"Well, I've done with him this time. Look: there he is."
For about fifty yards away there was Magglin, long-haired anddirty-looking, seated on the bank, with his elbows on his knees and hisface buried in his hands.
But he was so quick of ear, that, though we were walking along thegrassy margin of the road, he heard us coming, and started up fierce andexcited of aspect, but only to soften down and touch his cap, with aservile grin upon his face.
"Hullo, Mr Mercer, sir," he whined; "looking for me?"
"No," said my companion. "Why should I look for you?"
"Thought you wanted to pay me that shilling you owe me, sir."
"I don't owe you a shilling."
"Oh yes, you do, sir. Don't he, Mr Burr junior?"
"No," I said; "and if you ever have the impudence to say so again, I'lltell Bob Hopley to give you another thrashing."
The gipsy-looking fellow's dark eyes flashed.
"He'd better touch me again," he cried fiercely. "He'd better touch meagain. Did you two see?"
"Yes, we saw," said Mercer. "I say, he did make you cry chy-ike."
"He'd better touch me again."
"He will," I said, "if you go hanging about after Polly Hopley."
"What, did he tell you that?"
"No," I said, "we knew well enough. Bob Hopley didn't say a word. Onlycalled it poaching."
Magglin's manner changed directly, and in a snivelling, whining way hebegan,--
"Well, I can't help it, young gen'lemen. I'm 'bliged to go there, andnothing I can do's good enough for her. If I give her anything, shechucks it at me, because it aren't good enough."
"I should think not, indeed," said Mercer. "What decent girl's going tolisten to such a ragged scaramouche as you are?"
"Well, I can't help it, young gen'lemen."
"Yes, you can. Go to work like a man, and grow respectable," I said."I should be ashamed to idle about as you do."
"Why, aren't you two always idling about?"
"No. We do our work first," I said.
"I say, Magg, here comes Bob Hopley!" cried Mercer mischievously.
The poacher gave a quick glance up the lane in the direction from whichwe had come, caught sight of the keeper's velveteen coat, and shot intothe copse and was gone.
"I don't wonder at Bob thrashing him," I said.
"No," replied Mercer, as we went on. "I shall never deal with himagain. If I want a bird or anything, I shall ask Bob Hopley. He's aman, he is. If you give him anything, he says, `Thank-ye,' and if youdon't, he never seems to mind. He knows boys haven't always got anymoney. I wish Magglin would go right away."
The conversation turned then upon the coming cricket match; after whichwe dropped in upon Lomax, and talked to him about boxing, and I pleasedhim very much by telling him how satisfied my uncle had been at the wayI had learned to ride a horse; when, with his eyes twinkling, the oldsoldier took a letter from his chimney-piece, and opened it to show memy uncle's words, thanking him for the way he, an old soldier, hadtrained the son of a soldier, and enclosing a five-pound note.
"For a rainy day, Master Burr," he said. "I've clapped that in thebank."
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