CHAPTER TEN.
THE FOURTH JUNIOR AT HOME.
Stephen, before he had been a fortnight in the school, found himselfvery much at home at Saint Dominic's. He was not one of thoseexuberant, irrepressible boys who take their class-fellows by storm, andrise to the top of the tree almost as soon as they touch the bottom.Stephen, as the reader knows, was not a very clever boy, or a verydashing boy, and yet he somehow managed to get his footing among hiscomrades in the Fourth Junior, and particularly among his fellowGuinea-pigs.
He had fought Master Bramble six times in three days during his secondweek, and was engaged to fight him again every Tuesday, Thursday, andFriday during the term. He had also taken the chair at one indignationmeeting against the monitors, and spoken in favour of a resolution atanother. He had distributed brandy-balls in a most handsome manner tohis particular adherents, and he had been the means of carrying away noless than two blankets from the next dormitory. This was pretty goodfor a fortnight. Add to this that he had remained steadily at thebottom of his class during the entire period, and that once he hadreceived an "impot" (or imposition) from Mr Rastle, and it will easilybe understood that he soon gained favour among his fellows.
This last cause of celebrity, however, was one which did not pleaseStephen. He had come to Saint Dominic's with a great quantity of goodresolutions, the chief of which was that he would work hard and keep outof mischief, and it grieved him much to find that in neither aim was hesucceeding.
The first evening or two he had worked very diligently at preparation.He had taken pains with his fractions, and looked out every word in hisCaesar. He had got Oliver to look over his French, and Loman hadvolunteered to correct the spelling of his "theme;" and yet he stuck atthe bottom of the class. Other boys went up and down. Some openlyboasted that they had had their lessons done for them, and others thatthey had not done them at all. A merry time they had of it; butStephen, down at the bottom, was in dismal dumps. He could not get up,and he could not get down, and all his honest hard work went fornothing.
And so, not content to give that system a longer trial, he grew more laxin his work. He filched the answers to his sums out of the "Key," andcopied his Caesar out of the "crib." It was much easier, and the resultwas the same. He did not get up, and he could not get down.
Oliver catechised him now and then as to his progress, and receivedvague answers in reply, and Loman never remembered a fag that pesteredhim less with lessons. Stephen was, in fact, settling down into theslough of idleness, and would have become an accomplished dunce in time,had not Mr Rastle come to the rescue. That gentleman caught the newboy in an idle mood, wandering aimlessly down the passage one afternoon.
"Ah, Greenfield, is that you? Nothing to do, eh? Come and have teawith me, will you, in my room?"
Stephen, who had bounded as if shot on hearing the master's unexpectedvoice behind him, turned round and blushed very red, and said "Thankyou," and then looked like a criminal just summoned to the gallows.
"That's right, come along;" and the master took the lad by the arm andmarched him off to his room.
Here the sight of muffins and red-currant jam, in addition to theordinary attractions of a tea-table, somewhat revived Stephen's droopingspirits.
"Make yourself comfortable, my boy, while the tea is brewing," said MrRastle, cheerily. "Have you been playing any cricket since you came?"
"Only a little, sir," said Stephen.
"Well, if you only turn out as good a bat as your brother--how well heplayed in the Alphabet Match!"
Stephen was reviving fast now, and embarked on a lively chat about hisfavourite sport, by the end of which the tea was brewed, and he and MrRastle sitting "cheek by jowl" at the table, with the muffins and jambetween them.
Presently Mr Rastle steered the talk round to Stephen's home, a topiceven more delightful than cricket. The boy launched out into a fullaccount of the old house and his mother, till the tears very nearlystood in his eyes and the muffins very nearly stuck in his throat. MrRastle listened to it all with a sympathetic smile, throwing inquestions now and then which it charmed the boy to answer.
"And how do you like Saint Dominic's?" presently inquired the master."I suppose you've made plenty of friends by this time?"
"Oh yes, sir. It's not as slow as it was at first."
"That's right. You'll soon get to feel at home. And how do you thinkyou are getting on in class?"
Stephen was astonished at this question. If any one knew how he wasgetting on in class Mr Rastle did, and, alas! Mr Rastle must knowwell enough that Stephen was getting on badly.
"Not very well, I'm afraid, sir, thank you," replied the boy, notfeeling exactly comfortable.
"Not? That's a pity. Are the lessons too hard for you?" kindlyinquired Mr Rastle.
"No, I don't think so--that is--no, they're not, sir."
"Ah, your Latin exercise I thought was very fair in parts to-day."
Stephen stared at his master, and the master looked very pleasantly atStephen.
"I copied it off Raddleston," said the boy, in a trembling voice, andmentally resigning himself to his fate.
"Ah!" said Mr Rastle, laughing; "it's a funny thing, now, Greenfield, Iknew that myself. No two boys could possibly have translated `nobody'into `_nullus corpus_' without making common cause!"
Stephen was desperately perplexed. He had expected a regular row on thehead of his confession, and here was his master cracking jokes about theaffair!
"I'm very sorry I did it. I won't do it again," said he. "That'sright, my boy; Raddleston isn't infallible. Much better do it yourself.I venture to say, now, you can tell me what the Latin for `nobody' iswithout a dictionary."
"_Nemo_," promptly replied Stephen.
"Of course! and therefore if you had done the exercise yourself youwouldn't have made that horrid--that fearful mistake!"
Stephen said, "Yes, sir," and meditated.
"Come now," said Mr Rastle, cheerily, "I'm not going to scold you. Butif you take my advice you will try and do the next exercise by yourself.Of course you can't expect to be perfect all at once, but if you alwayscopy off Raddleston, do you see, you'll _never_ get on at all."
"I'll try, sir," said Stephen, meaning what he said.
"I know you will, my boy. It's not easy work to begin with, but it'seasier far in the long run. Try, and if you have difficulties, as youare sure to have, come to me. I'm always here in the evenings, andwe'll hammer it out between us. School will not be without itstemptations, and you will find it hard always to do your duty. Yet youhave, I hope, learnt the power of prayer; and surely the Saviour is ablenot only to forgive us our sins, but also to keep us from falling. Atschool, my boy, as elsewhere, it is a safe rule, whenever one is indoubt, to avoid everything, no matter who may be the tempter, of whichone cannot fearlessly speak to one's father or mother, and above all toour Heavenly Father. Don't be afraid of Him--He will always be ready tohelp you and to guide you with His Holy Spirit. Have another cup oftea?"
This little talk, much as he missed at the time its deeper meaning,saved Stephen from becoming a dunce. He still blundered and boggledover his lessons, and still kept pretty near to the bottom form in hisclass, but he felt that his master had an interest in him, and thatacted like magic to his soul. He declined Master Raddleston'sprofessional assistance for the future, and did the best he could byhimself. He now and then, though hesitatingly, availed himself of MrRastle's offer, and took his difficulties to head-quarters; and healways, when he did so, found the master ready and glad to help, and notonly that, but to explain as he went along, and clear the way of futureobstacles of the same sort.
And so things looked up with Stephen. He wrote jubilant letters home;he experienced all the joys of an easy conscience, and he felt that hehad a friend at court.
But as long as he was a member of the honourable fraternity ofGuinea-pigs, Stephen Greenfield was not likely to be dull at SaintDominic's.
The politics
of the lower school were rather intricate. The Guinea-pigswere not exactly the enemies of the Tadpoles, but the rivals. They werealways jangling among themselves, it was true; and when Stephen, for thesecond time in one week, had hit Bramble in the eye, there was suchjubilation among the Guinea-pigs that any one might have supposed thetwo clans were at daggers drawn. But it was not so--at least, notalways--for though they fell out among themselves, they united theirforces against the common enemy--the monitors!
Monitors, in the opinion of these young republicans, were an inventionof the Evil One, invented for the sole purpose of interfering with them.But for the monitors they could carry out their long-cherished schemeof a pitched battle on the big staircase, for asserting their right togo down the left side, when they chose, and up on the right. As it was,the monitors insisted that they should go up on the left and come downon the right. It was intolerable tyranny! And but for the monitorstheir comb-and-paper musical society might give daily recitals in thetop corridor and so delight all Saint Dominic's. What right had themonitors to forbid the performance and confiscate the combs? Was it tobe endured? And but for the monitors, once more, they might perfectthemselves in the art of pea-shooting. Was such a thing ever heard of,as that fellows should be compelled to shoot peas at the wall in theprivacy of their own studies, instead of at one another in the passages?It was a shame--it was a scandal--it was a crime!
On burning questions such as these, Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles sunk allpetty differences, and thought and felt as one man; and not the leastardent among them was Stephen.
"Come on, quick! Greenfield junior," squeaked the voice of Bramble, oneafternoon, as he and Stephen met on the staircase.
Stephen had fought Bramble yesterday at four o'clock, and was to fighthim again to-morrow at half-past twelve, but at the call of commondanger he forgot the feud and tore up the stairs, two steps at a time,beside his chronic enemy.
"What's the row?" he gasped, as they flew along.
"Row? Why, what do you think? Young Bellerby has been doctored fortying a string across the passage!"
"Had up before the Doctor? My eye, Bramble!"
"It is your eye indeed! One of the monitors tripped over it, and got ina rage, and there's Bellerby now catching it in the Black Hole. Come onto the meeting; quick!"
The two rushed on, joined by one and another of their fellows who hadheard the terrible news. The party rushed pellmell into the FourthJunior class-room, where were already assembled a score or more youths,shouting, and stamping, and howling like madmen. At the sight ofBramble, the acknowledged leader of all malcontents, they quieted downfor a moment to hear what he had to say.
"Here's a go!" classically began that hero.
At this the clamour, swelled twofold by the new additions, rose louderthan ever. It _was_ a go!
"I wish it had been _me_!" again yelled Bramble; "I have let them know."
Once more the shouts rose high and loud in approval of this noblesentiment.
"_I'd_ have kicked their legs!" once more howled Bramble, as soon as hecould make himself heard.
"So would we; kicked their legs!"
"They ought to be hanged!" screamed Bramble.
"_I'll_ not fag any more for Wren!" bellowed Bramble.
"I'll not fag any more for Greenfield senior!" thundered Paul.
"I'll not fag any more for Loman!" shrieked Stephen.
"Why don't some of you put poison in their teas?" cried one.
"Or blow them up when they're in bed with gunpowder?"
"Or flay them alive?"
"Or boil them in tar?"
"Or throw them into the lions' den?"
"Those who say we won't stand it any longer," shouted Bramble, jumpingup on to a form, "hold up your hands!"
A perfect forest of inky hands arose, and a shout with them that almostshook the ceiling.
At that moment the door opened, and Wren appeared. The effect wasmagical; every one became suddenly quiet, and looked another way.
"The next time there's a noise like that," said the monitor, "the wholeclass will be detained one hour," and, so saying, departed.
After that the indignation meeting was kept up in whispers. Now andthen the feelings of the assembly broke out into words, but the noisewas instantly checked.
"If young Bellerby has been flogged," said Bramble, in a most sepulchralundertone, "I've a good mind to fight every one of them!"
"Yes, every one of them," whispered the multitude.
"They're all as bad as each other!" gasped Bramble.
"_We'll_ let them know," muttered the audience.
"I'll tell you what I've a good mind to--to--ur--ur--I've a good mindto--ugh!"
Again the door opened. This time it was Callonby.
"Where's young Raddleston?--What _are_ you young beggars up to?--isRaddleston here?"
"Yes," mildly answered the voice of Master Raddleston, who a moment agohad nearly broken a blood-vessel in his endeavours to scream in awhisper.
"Come here, then."
The fag meekly obeyed.
"Oh, and Greenfield junior," said Callonby, as he was turning to depart,"Loman wants to know when you are going to get his tea; you're to go atonce, he says."
Stephen obeyed, and was very humble in explaining to Loman that he hadforgotten (which was the case) the time. The meeting in the Fourthclass-room lasted most of the afternoon; but as oratory in whispers istedious, and constant repetition of the same sentiments, howeverpatriotic, is monotonous, it flagged considerably in spirit towards theend, and degenerated into one of the usual wrangles between Guinea-pigsand Tadpoles, in the midst of which Master Bramble left the chair, andwent off in the meekest manner possible to get Wren to help him with hissums for next day.
Stephen meanwhile was engaged in doing a little piece of business forLoman, of which more must be said in a following chapter.