Chapter 1

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_ Chapter One

"There'll be such a game directly. Just listen to old Dicksee."

I was very low-spirited, but, as the bright, good-looking lad at my side nudged me with his elbow, I turned from casting my eyes round the great bare oak-panelled room, with its long desks, to the kind of pulpit at the lower end, facing a bigger and more important-looking erection at the upper end, standing upon a broad dais raised a foot above the rest of the room. For this had been the banqueting hall of Meade Place, in the good old times of James the First, when its owner little thought it would ever be the schoolroom of Dr Browne's "Boarding Establishment for Gentlemen's Sons." In fact, there was a broad opening now, with a sliding door, right through the thick wall into the kitchen, so my companion told me, and that I should see the shoulders of mutton slip through there at dinner-time.

So I looked at the lower pulpit, in which sat Mr Rebble, one of the ushers, a lank, pale-faced, haggard man, with a dotting of freckles, light eyebrows, and pale red hair which stood up straight like that upon a clothes-brush.

He was resting his elbows on the desk and wiping his hands one over the other, as if the air was water and he had a piece of soap between his palms. By him was a boy with a book, reading in a highly-pitched voice which did not seem to fit him, being, like his clothes, too small for such a big fellow, with his broad face and forehead all wrinkled up into puckers with the exertion of reading.

"Tchish! tchish! Silence!" said Mr Rebble, giving three stamps on the floor. "Now go on, Dicksee."

"I say, do listen," said the boy by my side. "He isn't well, and I gave him a dose this morning."

"You did?" I said. "You hit him?"

"No, no," said the boy, laughing. "I often do though--a miserable sneak. I gave him a dose of medicine. He had been eating too many of Polly Hopley's cakes. My father is a doctor!" he added importantly.

"Oh!" I said.

"I say, do listen. Did you ever hear such a whine?"

As he spoke, I heard the big, stoutly-built boy give a tremendous sniff, and then go on reading.

"I love Penny Lope--Penny Lope is loved by me."

"Pen-el-o-pe!" cried the usher angrily, as he snatched the book from the boy's hands, closed it, and boxed his ears with it, right and left, over and over again. "You _dumkopf_!" he shouted; "you muddy-brained ass! you'll never learn anything. You're more trouble than all the rest of the boys put together. There, be off to your seat, and write that piece out twenty-five times, and then learn it by heart."

"Ow, ow, ow! sniff, sniff, snork!"

"Silence, sir, or I'll make the imposition fifty times!"

The howl subsided into a series of subdued sniffs as the big fellow went back to his place, amidst the humming noise made by some fifty boys, who, under the pretence of studying their lessons, kept up conversations, played at odd or even for marbles, or flicked peas at each other across the school.

"Old Reb wouldn't dare to hit him like that if the Doctor was here."

"Your father?" I said.

"No, no--old Swish! Doctor Browne."

_Flick-tip_.

A pea struck my companion on the ear, and dropped on the floor.

"All right, Burr," said my neighbour; "did that with a pea-shooter. I owe you one."

"I didn't do it!" I whispered eagerly.

"Of course you didn't. It was that long, thin boy yonder. His name's Burr too. He'll be Burr major now, and you'll be Burr junior."

"Oh!" I said, feeling much relieved.

"You'll have to lick him. Regular old bully. Your name's Frank, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"His name's Eliezer. We call him Eely, because he's such a lanky, thin, snaky chap. I say, his father's a tailor in Cork Street, he's got such lots of clothes in his box. He has a bob-tail coat and black kersey sit-upon-'ems, and a vesky with glass buttons, and all covered with embroidery. Such a dandy!--What's your father?"

I did not answer for a few moments, and he looked at me sharply.

"Dead," I said in a low voice.

"Oh!" said my companion softly too. "I didn't know."

"He was shot--out in India--Chillianwallah," I said.--"Died of his wounds."

"Oh, I am sorry! I wish my father had been there."

"Why?"

"He'd have cured him. There's nobody like him for wounds. But, I say, Chillian what's its name?"

"Chillianwallah," I said.

"Why, what a game! That's where old Lomax was. I remember now."

"Is Lomax one of the boys," I asked wonderingly.

"Yah! no. You saw him last night, when you came in the fly. That big chap who lives at the lodge, and helped lift down your box. He had a shot through him, and nearly had his head cut off with a tully something. He'll tell you. He has a pension, and is our drill-master, and teaches boys riding."

This was interesting, and I felt a desire to know old Lomax.

"What's your mother?" said my companion, breaking in upon my musing.

"A lady," I said proudly.

"So's mine. She's the nicest and best and--" At that moment I heard a loud, deep-throated cough, which was followed by a shuffling and stamping, as I saw all the boys rise in their places.

"Get up--get up," whispered my neighbour. "The Doctor."

I rose in my place, and saw the tall, stout, clerical-looking gentleman I had seen when I reached Meade Place on the previous night, enter by the middle door, and look gravely and smilingly round.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "Good morning, Mr Rebble;" and then he marched solemnly to the pulpit on the dais, took his place, waved his hand, there was a repetition of the rustling and shuffling as the boys reseated themselves, and then the humming murmur of the school recommenced.

"I say, how old are you?" whispered my companion.

"Sixteen--nearly," I replied.

"Well, that is rum. So am I. So's lots of fellows here. Where did you go to school before?"

"Nowhere. Had a private tutor at home."

"Well, you must be a muff."

"Why?"

"To give up a private tutor all to yourself to come to school here."

"Obliged to. Uncle said I should grow into a--"

I stopped short.

"Well, what?"

"Less talking there," said Mr Rebble.

"Mind your own business," muttered my neighbour. "What did he say you'd grow into?"

"A milksop; and that I must come and rough it among other boys."

"Ha! ha! what a game! You will have to rough it too, here. I say, who's uncle?"

"My uncle, Colonel Seaborough."

"What's he?--a soldier too?"

"Yes; and I'm going to be a soldier by and by."

"Well, you are a lucky one! Wish I had an uncle who said I should be a soldier. I shall have to be a doctor, I suppose."

Just then, the tall, thin boy pointed out to me a few minutes before as Burr major, came across in a bending, undulating way, with an open book in his hand, glanced up and down to see that the Doctor and his lieutenant were both occupied, and then slipped into the seat at our long desk on the other side of my neighbour, who did not give him time to speak, but began rapidly,--

"I say, this new chap says he'll give you such a leathering if you shoot peas at him."

"Eh? Like to see him begin," said the fresh comer, with a contemptuous look at me. "I say, Senna T, you're in for it."

"What for?"

"Old Dicksee says you gave him some stuff last night, and it's made him so bad he can't learn his lessons. He's going to tell the Doctor."

"Gammon! What do you want?"

"Less talking there," said Mr Rebble sharply.

"Hark at old Reb!" whispered the new-comer. "I say, we're going to have a holiday to-day, ain't we?"

"No such luck."

"Oh, but we must! I've written this out. You'll sign, won't you?"

My neighbour snatched a document consisting of about half a dozen lines, and pushed it back.

"He'll keep us in if we do."

"Not he. I know he wants to drive over to Hastings with the girls. Sign, there's a good chap."

"But you haven't signed."

"No. I shall put my name last."

"Yah! Can't catch old birds with chaff, Eely."

"If you call me Eely again, I'll punch your head."

"You sign first, and I'll put my name next."

"Shan't! and if you don't put your name at once, I'll tear up the paper. I don't want a holiday; it was all for you boys."

"Thank-ye," said my neighbour derisively.

"Just you wait till we're out in the field, Jalap, and I'll serve you out for this."

"Burr junior," said a rich, deep, unctuous voice, which seemed to roll through the school, and there was a dead silence.

"Here, you!--get up. Go on."

"Burr junior!" came in a louder, deeper voice.

"He means you," whispered my neighbour.

"Say _Adsum_," whispered the tall, thin boy, and, on the impulse given, I repeated the Latin word feebly.

"Go up to him," whispered my neighbour, and, pulling my legs out from between the form and the desk, I walked up through the centre opening between the two rows of desks, conscious of tittering and whispering, two or three words reaching my ears, such as "cane," "pickle," "catch it certain."

Then, feeling hot and confused, I found myself on the dais in front of the desk, where the Doctor was looking searchingly at me through his gold-rimmed spectacles. Then, turning himself round, he slowly and ponderously crossed one leg over the other, and waved his hand.

"Come to the side," he said, and feeling more conscious up there on the dais, I moved round, and he took my hand.

"I am glad to welcome you among us, Frank, to join in our curriculum of study, and I hope you will do us all credit. Er--rum! Let me see. Burr--Frank Burr. We have another Burr here, who has stuck among us for some years."

The Doctor paused and looked round with a very fat smile, in the midst of a peculiar silence, till Mr Rebble at the other end said loudly,--

"Ha! ha! Excellent!" and there was now a loud burst of laughter.

I thought that I should not like Mr Rebble, but I saw that the Doctor liked his appreciation of his joke, for he smiled pleasantly, and continued,--

"Let me see. I think we have a pleasant little custom here, not more honoured in the breach than in the observance. Eh, Mr Rebble?"

"Certainly, sir, certainly," said that gentleman, and the Doctor frowned at his leg, as he smoothed it down. But his face cleared directly.

"Er--rum!" he continued, clearing his voice. "Of having a brief cessation from our studies upon the advent of a new boy. Young gentlemen, you may close your books for to-day."

There was a hearty cheer at this, and the Doctor rose, thrust his hand into his breast beside his white shirt-frill, then, waving the other majestically, he turned to me as the cheering ceased.

"Burr junior," he said, "you can return to your seat."

I stepped back, forgetting all about the dais, and fell rather heavily, but sprang up again, scarlet with mortification.

"Not hurt? No? That's right," said the Doctor; and amid a chorus of "Thank you, sir! thank you, sir!" he marched slowly out of the great room, closely followed by Mr Rebble, while I stood, shaken by my fall, and half dazed by the uproar. _

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