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Glyn Severn's Schooldays, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 8. Doctor Bewley Changes Sides |
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_ CHAPTER EIGHT. DOCTOR BEWLEY CHANGES SIDES As the two lads reached the main street, chatting over their adventure, something occurred which made Glyn turn his head sharply, and as he did so a small boy shouted, "Hooray!" It was the little spark applied to the touch-hole of a cannon, and a loud roar followed. "Here, let's go back," cried Singh. "The Rajah's broken loose again." "No, no," cried Glyn. "They are shouting at us." "What for? What have we done?" "I suppose it's because we rode the elephant. Here, come along; let's turn down here and get round by the fields." The young Indian generally gave way to his English friend; and, obeying directly, they hurried down the first turning, but in vain. A crowd of men and boys were after them, cheering loudly, and this crowd was snowball-like in the way in which the farther it rolled the more it grew. So that in spite of all their efforts they were literally hunted right up to the Doctor's gates, where they arrived hot and breathless to find a larger crowd than before which had gathered to satisfy themselves with the rather empty view of the damaged hedge, the big footmarks, and a wheelwright and some of Ramball's men getting the great bottomless elephant-van into condition for dragging to the show-field. As soon as the two boys came in sight there was a rush made for them, and amidst deafening cheering and vain efforts to hoist them shoulder-high and carry them into the playground, they managed to reach this resort at last, and join their schoolfellows in keeping out the excited mob, some of whom, the youngest of course, began to decorate the brick wall with their persons like so many living statues. And then to the two lads' disgust, the whole school, with the exception of Slegge, and half-a-dozen of his party who wanted to join in the ovation but did not dare in the presence of their tyrant, began to cheer them as loudly as the boys without. Several of the younger juniors began to idolise them in a very juvenile way by hanging on to them, slapping their backs, and shaking hands. Altogether it was a strange mingling of the pleasant and unpleasant, the former predominating with Singh, who for the first time since he had joined the school found himself thoroughly liked. Slegge and his following stood aloof, the latter listening to the former's sneering remarks, some of which reached Glyn and made him feel hot; while just in the midst of the loudest cheering, Wrench the man-servant made his appearance, followed by a big tom-cat which passed most of its time in the pantry rubbing its head against Wrench's legs while he was cleaning the plate or washing tea-cups, probably in gratitude for past favours. When it was a kitten some young Plymborough roughs had hurled it into the little river, and were making of it what they termed a "cockshy," pelting it with stones, fortunately ineffectually, and trying to beat it under water, when the Doctor's footman, who was crossing the bridge, saw what was going on and made an unexpected charge upon the young ruffians, effectually scattering them. One tripped and fell headlong into the river, out of which he crawled as thoroughly wet as the unhappy little kitten, which Wrench received as it swam ashore, rolled up in his handkerchief and took home to his pantry, where it grew rapidly, waxed fat, and was never so happy as when it could find a chance to rub its head against its master. Hard on Wrench's heels came also one Sam Grigg, page-boy, who on particular occasions wore a livery jacket with three rows of plated pill-like buttons, but who was now in the fatigue-dress of rolled-up shirt sleeves and a very dirty apron, while his left-hand was occupied by a boot, the right by a blacking-brush, which seemed to have been applied several times to an itching nose, his chin, and one side of his face, rather accounting for the plural nickname given him by the boys of "Day & Martin." These had come out to join in the ovation, Wrench adding several proud encomiums, one of which was, "My eyes, gentlemen! You did do it fine!" The Doctor's footman had hardly uttered these words when there was the loud ringing of a bell. "The Doctor!" he ejaculated, and he hurried into the house, his exit from the playground being followed by a fresh burst of cheering and a peculiar triumphant dance on the part of the page, accompanied by the waving of boot and blacking-brush, till, in his disgust, Slegge made a rush at him from behind, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and ran him rapidly to the boot-house, sent him flying in with a savage kick, and banged the door after him. "A blackguard!" he cried haughtily. "That's why our boots are not half cleaned. How dare he! The dirty, contemptible scrub! The Doctor ought to be told of this." Slegge stood sniffing and snorting and glaring round fiercely at the worshippers of the two heroes of the hour, who stood flushed and worried, ready to beat a retreat to the dormitory. But an end was put to their reception in a very unexpected way, for Wrench suddenly made his appearance, looking very solemn as he hurried off to the two lads with, "The Doctor wants to see you both, sirs, directly, in the study." Slegge's face lit up with a malicious grin. "Haw, haw!" he laughed. "Three cheers, boys! The Doctor wants to see them both in his study. Impositions! Hooray! Cheer, you little beggars! Why don't you cheer?" The adjuration fell flat, for not a boy uttered a sound, save one who exclaimed, "Oh, what a shame!" and then went off to the cricket-field, trying hard, poor little fellow! to suppress the natural desire to cry out and sob, for Slegge had "fetched him," as he termed it, a sounding slap upon the cheek, which echoed in the silence and cut the boy's lips against a sharp white tooth. "What's the Doctor want?" whispered Singh, as they followed the footman into the house. "A wigging, I'm afraid, gentlemen," said the man who heard his words. "But don't you mind. You write out your lines and do your imposition like men. It was fine! What you did this morning has made every one think no end of you, and it will never be forgotten so long as this 'ere's a school." A tap of the knuckles, which sounded hollow and strange, for they had reached the study-door. "Come in!" in the Doctor's deepest and most severe tones, and the next moment the two boys were standing separated from their preceptor by the large study-table, while he sat back in his revolving chair with his finger-tips joined, frowning at them severely from beneath his up-pushed gold-rimmed spectacles. There was silence for quite a minute, and it was not the Doctor who spoke first, but Glyn, who, under the impression that the Doctor was deep in thought and had forgotten their presence, ventured to say, "I beg your pardon, sir; you sent for us," and put an end to the mental debate as to the form in which the subject should be approached. "Yes, sir," said the Doctor sternly. "I have sent for you both, as it is better that any lapse from the strict rules of my establishment should be dealt with immediately; not that I wish to be too severe, for you are both new pupils and strange to the regulations of a high-class school in England. You gather, of course, that I am alluding to your very undignified conduct in the sight of all your fellow-pupils." "Yes, sir," said Glyn; "about our riding the elephant?" "Of course. It was disgraceful. You, to whom I should have looked for the conduct and demeanour of a gentleman, being the son of an eminent officer in the army, behaving like some little common street-boy, and leading your fellow-pupil, in whom from his ignorance of English customs and etiquette such a lapse might be excused. It was only the other day that your father the Colonel, sir, told me that you would set an example to the young Prince, and here I find you directly snatching at the opportunity to behave as you have done." "I beg your pardon, sir," cried Glyn, in a voice full of protest, "it was--" "Silence, sir!--Yes, what is it?" cried the Doctor angrily, for there was a quick tap at the door, and the footman appeared. "Have I not told you, sir, that when I am engaged like this I am not to be interrupted?-- Eh? Who?" "That showman, sir, wants to see you, sir." "That showman?" cried the Doctor angrily. "What showman? What about?" "Come about the damages, sir; the broken fences. He said he wouldn't keep you a moment, sir, if you would see him." "Oh," said the Doctor, cooling down. "Yes, the damages, the torn-up hedge and the broken fence. A most annoying affair. You can sit down, gentlemen, while I dismiss this man.--Where is he, Wrench?" "In the hall, sir; on the mat." "Ho!" said the Doctor, rising; and he marched slowly out, leaving the boys looking at one another and then at the busts of the great scholars of Greece and Rome ranged at intervals upon the cornices of the bookcases that covered the study-walls. Neither felt disposed to speak, for an inner door stood ajar, and from the other side came the faintly heard scratching noise of a pen. And so in silence some ten minutes or so passed before the Doctor came in, looking very different of aspect and ready to sign to the boys to sit down again as they rose at his entrance. "A most unpleasant business, young gentlemen," he began, as he seated himself; and sinking back he removed his spectacles, folded them, and used them to tap his knee; "but in justice to you I must hasten to say that this man's coming has given a very different complexion to the affair. A very strange, uncultured personage, but most straightforward and honest. I like the way in which he has offered to bear all the expense of repairing the fences. He speaks most highly of your gallantry--er--er--er--pluck, he called it--most objectionable phrase!-- in dealing with this savage beast. H'm, yes, what did he say--tackling it. But I was not aware that you had engaged in roping or harnessing the animal. He, however, talked of your both managing the monster wonderfully, and--er--it had never occurred to me before that you had both had some experience of elephants in India." "Oh yes, sir," cried Glyn eagerly. "Singh has elephants of his own, and we often used to go out together through the forest upon one as big as that." "Ha! Very interesting," cried the Doctor. "I was under the impression that your proceedings this morning were--that is--in fact, that you both did it just for the sake of a ride." "Oh no, sir," cried Glyn. "The men were all afraid of the elephant, and Singh spoke to it in Hindustani, and--" "Yes, yes, exactly," said the Doctor, smiling. "It was very brave, and--really, I cannot conceal the fact that I felt alarmed myself when the great furious beast came charging across the grounds. Yes, he speaks highly in praise of your conduct, and really, young gentlemen, I--I must apologise for having spoken to you as I did while suffering from a misunderstanding. Er--hum!" continued the Doctor didactically, and he rose slowly to stand waving the gold spectacles through the air, "it is the duty of every gentleman when he finds that he is in the wrong to acknowledge the fact with dignity and good grace. My dear young pupils, I hope I have properly expressed myself towards you both; and let me add that this will be a lesson to us, to me, against speaking in undue haste, and to you both as--er-- "Well, gentlemen," he continued with a smile, "I don't think I need detain you longer from your studies--I mean--er--from your pleasurable pursuits, as this is a holiday, and we will consider the incident as closed." Smiling benignantly, the Doctor marched slowly round the end of the table again, shook hands warmly with both his pupils, and then showed them to the door. "Stop! By the way, a little idea has occurred to me. This is a day of relaxation. Mr Singh--er--it is an understood thing, as you know, that your title is to be in abeyance while you are my pupil; for, as I explained to your guardian, Colonel Severn, it would be better that there should be no invidious distinctions during your scholastic career--I should be glad if you and your friend the Colonel's son would dine with me this evening. No dinner-party, but just to meet your three preceptors and a Mr--dear me, what was his name? Really, gentlemen, I am so deeply immersed in my studies that names escape me in a most provoking manner. A gentleman resident in the town here--a Sanskrit scholar, and friend of Mr Morris. Dear me! What was his name? There was something familiar about it, and I made a mental note, _memoria technica_, to be sure, yes--what was it? I remember the word perfectly now. 'Beer.' Dear me, how strange! And it doesn't help me a bit. Really, gentlemen, I am afraid this _memoria technica_ is a mistake. How, by any possibility could the name of the ordinary beverage of the working classes have anything to do with the professor's name? Professor Beer--Professor Ale--Professor Porter--Stout? Dear me, how strange! Ah, of course--the great brewers, Barclay--Professor Barclay! At half-past six." "Thank you, sir. We will come," said Singh, smiling. "Precisely," said the Doctor, and he stood smiling in the doorway as the boys passed out. They were at the end of the hall passage when the door closed, and Wrench shot out from somewhere like a Jack from its box. "Aren't caught it very bad, gentlemen, have you?" he cried eagerly. "Oh no, Wrench," said Glyn, smiling. "Thought not, sir, for the Doctor had got a twinkle in his eye when he'd done with the wild-beast man. It would have been hard if you'd caught it after what you did. Pst! There's the study-bell." And the man hurried away, leaving the culprits to stroll out together into the playground, where they found fully half the boys waiting to hear the result of their interview with the Doctor, Slegge and his courtiers hurrying up first. "Well, beast-tamers," he cried sneeringly, "how many lines of Latin have you got to do?" And he grinned offensively at them both. "When?" said Glyn coolly. "When? Why, now, at once." "We haven't got any lines of Latin to do," said Singh quietly. "To-day is a holiday." "For us," cried Slegge; "but I know the Doctor. You have both got a pretty stiff dose to do, my fine fellows, and I wish you joy." "Thank you," said Glyn; "but you are all in the wrong." "Wrong? Then what did the Doctor say to you?" "Oh," said Glyn, in a most imperturbable manner, fighting hard the while, though, to keep his countenance as he realised the strength of the shot he was about to send at his malicious persecutor, "he asked Singh and me to come and meet the masters and dine with him to-night." _ |
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