The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's: A School Story

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

  A QUEER PRIZE-DAY.

  The long Christmas term crawled slowly on unsatisfactorily to everybody.It was unsatisfactory to Loman, who, after the football match,discovered that what little popularity or influence he ever had wasfinally gone. It was unsatisfactory to Wraysford, who, not knowingwhether to be ashamed of himself or wroth with his old friend, settleddown to be miserable for the rest of the term. It was unsatisfactory tothe Fifth, who felt the luck was against them, and that the cloudoverhead seemed to have stuck there for good. It was unsatisfactory toStephen, who raged and fretted twenty times a day on his brother'sbehalf, and got no nearer putting him right than when he began. Andundoubtedly it must have been unsatisfactory to Oliver, a banished man,forgetting almost the use of tongue and ears, and, except his brother,not being able to reckon on a single friend at Saint Dominic's outsidethe glorious community of the Guinea-pigs.

  In fact, the only section in the school to whom the term wassatisfactory, was these last-named young gentlemen and their sworn foes,the Tadpoles.

  Now, at last, they had a clear issue before them--Greenfield senior, washe a hero or was he a blackguard? There was no mistaking sides there.There was no unpleasant possibility of having to make common cause andproclaim an armistice. No! on the question of Greenfield senior,Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles had something to fight about from morning tillnight, and therefore _they_, at any rate, were happy!

  "Jellicott," said Dr Senior one day, as the masters met for fiveminutes' talk in the head master's study, "Greenfield in the Fifth isnot well, I'm afraid. I never see him out in the playground."

  "Really?" said Mr Jellicott. "I'm so rarely out there that I haven'tnoticed. I believe, however, he is quite well."

  "I hope he is not overworking," said the Doctor. "He has done so verywell this term that it would be a pity if he spoiled his chance byknocking himself up."

  "Greenfield senior," put in Mr Rastle, "appears to be unpopular just atpresent; at least, so I gather from what I have heard. I don't knowwhat crime he has committed, but the tribunal of his class have beenvery severe on him, I fancy."

  The Doctor laughed.

  "Boys will be boys! Well, it's a relief if that's the solution of themystery, for I was afraid he was ill. We have no right to interferewith these boyish freaks, as long as they are not mischievous. But youmight keep your eye on the little comedy, Jellicott. It would be a pityfor it to go too far."

  Mr Jellicott did keep his eye on the little comedy, and came to theconclusion that, whatever Greenfield had done, he was being prettyseverely paid out. He reported as much to the Doctor, who, however,still deprecated interference.

  "We might only make things worse," said he, "by meddling. Things likethis always right themselves far better than an outsider can right them.Besides, as Greenfield will get his move up after Christmas, he will beless dependent on the good graces of his present class-fellows."

  And so the matter ended for the present, as far as the masters wereconcerned. The reader will, perhaps, feel very indignant, and declarethe Doctor was neglecting his duty in treating so serious a matter solightly. He ought (some one says) to have investigated the whole affairfrom beginning to end, and made sure what was the reason of the Fifth'sdispleasure and of Oliver's disgrace. In fact, when one comes to thinkof it, it is a marvel how the Doctor had not long ago guessed who tookthe lost examination paper, and treated the criminal accordingly.

  Christmas prize-day was always a great event at Saint Dominic's. For,as all the examinations had been held at the beginning of the term, allthe rewards were naturally distributed at the end of it.

  Fellows who were leaving made on these occasions their last appearancebefore their old companions. Fellows who had earned their removesfigured now for the last time as members of their old classes; andfellows who had distinguished themselves during the last year generallywere patted on the back by the masters and cheered by theirschoolfellows, and made much of by their sisters, and cousins, andaunts.

  For ladies turned up at the Christmas prize-day at Saint Dominic's;ladies, and big brothers, and old boys, and the school governors, withthe noble Earl at their head to give away the prizes. It was a greatoccasion. The school was decorated with flags and evergreens; Sundaytogs were the order of the day; the Doctor wore his scarlet hood, andthe masters their best gowns. The lecture-theatre was quite gay withred-baize carpet and unwonted cushions, and the pyramid ofgorgeously-bound books awaiting the hour of distribution on the centretable.

  Prize-day, too, was the object of all sorts of preparations long beforethe eventful date came round. Ten days at least before it arrived theGuinea-pigs and Tadpoles were wont secretly to buy pumice-stone fortheir finger ends, and used one by one to disappear casually into Maltbyand come back with their hair cut. Then the Fourth Senior, who were forever getting up testimonials to their master (they gave him atestimonial on an average twice every term), were very busy collectingcontributions and discussing whether Mr Brand would prefer an ormolumustard-pot, or a steel watch-chain, or an antimacassar. The musicalset at the school, too, were busy rehearsing part songs for theevening's festivities, and the dramatic set were terribly immersed for afortnight beforehand in the preparations for a grand charade.

  Altogether the end of the Christmas term at Saint Dominic's was a busytime, and the present year was certainly no exception to the rule.Greatly to the relief of Stephen and Oliver, Mrs Greenfield foundherself unable at the last moment to come down and take part in theproceedings of the eventful day. As long as the boys had expected herto come they had looked forward to prize-day with something like horror,but now that that danger was passed, Oliver recovered his old unconcern,and Stephen relapsed once more into his attitude of terror-in-chief tohis big brother, snapping and snarling at any one who dared so much asto mention the name of Greenfield senior in his hearing.

  Well, the day came at last, fully as grand an occasion as any oneexpected. The noble Earl turned up half an hour early, and spent theinterval in patting the greasy heads of all the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoleshe came across. The mothers and sisters swarmed up and down thestaircases and in and out the studies, escorted proudly by their dearJohnnys and precious Bobs. The red robes of the Doctor flashed down thecorridor, and in the lecture-theatre there was such a rustling of silkgowns and waving of feather bonnets, and gleaming of white collars andsparkling patent-leather boots, as must have fairly astonished thatsombre place. Every one was there--every fellow nearly had got a motheror somebody to show off to. Even Bramble turned up with a magnificentgrandmother, greatly to the envy of friend and foe, and would have beenthe proudest Tadpole alive if the dear good old lady had not insisted ontaking her descendant's _hand_ instead of his arm, and trotting himabout instead of letting him trot her. Oliver and Stephen alone had nokith and kin to see them on this proud day.

  In due time the lecture-theatre filled up, crowded from floor toceiling. The noble Earl walked in amid terrific cheers and took hisseat. The Doctor walked in after him, amid cheers almost as terrific,and after him the ordinary procession of governors, masters, andexaminers; and when they were all seated prize-day had begun.

  For up steps Mr Raleigh, the captain of the school, on to the raiseddais, whence, after bowing profoundly to the noble Earl and everybody,he delivers a neat speech in honour of a good old soul who lived threeor four centuries ago, and left behind him the parcel of ground on whichSaint Dominic's now stands, and a hatful of money besides, to found theschool. Raleigh having said his say (and how proud the smallest boysare of the captain's whiskers as they listen!), up steps Wren andcommences a similar harangue in Greek. The small boys, of course, cheerthis even more than the English. Then up gets Mr Winter and spins offa Latin speech, but this does not go down so well, for the juniors knowa _little_ Latin, and so are a good deal more critical over that thanover the Greek. The French and German speeches however, restore them togood humour, and then the speeches are done.

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p; Then comes the noble Earl. He is an old, old man, and his voice is weakand wavering, and scarcely any one hears a word he says. Yet how theycheer him, those youngsters! They watch the back of his head, and whenit bobs then they know the end of a sentence has come, and they let outaccordingly.

  "My dearie," says Bramble's grandmother, "don't stamp so. The poor oldgentleman can't hear his own voice."

  "That's no matter," says "my dearie," pounding away with his feet. "Ifwe keep it up the old boy may give us an extra week's holiday."

  The old lady subsided at this, in a resigned way; and certainly when thegood old nobleman did reach his final bob, his merry, jovial face lookedparticularly promising for the extra week. And now the Doctor advancesto the table with the prize list in his hand. The prize boys aremarshalled in the background, in the order in which their names appear,and Bramble tries hard to look as if nothing but his duty to hisgrandmother would have kept him from forming one of that favoured bandhimself.

  The prize list is arranged backwards way; that is, the small boys comeon first and the great events last.

  It is a treat to see the little mites of the First, Second, and ThirdJunior trot up to get their prizes. They look so pleased, and theyblush so, and look so wistfully up to where their relatives are sitting,that it is quite pathetic, and the good old Earl has a vigorous wipe ofhis spectacles before he calls up the Fourth Junior.

  "General proficiency," reads the Doctor from his list--"Watson." No oneknows Watson; he is quite an obscure member of the glorious community,and so he trots in and out again without much excitement. In fact, allthe best prizes of the Form go without much applause, but when theDoctor summons "Paul" to advance and receive "the second arithmeticprize," there rises a shout enough to bring down the house.

  "Bravo, Guinea-pigs!" shouts one small voice up somewhere near theceiling, whereat there is a mighty laugh and cheer, and Bramble turnscrimson in the face, and tells his grandmother gloomily, "That fellowPaul is a beast!"

  But the youth's face brightens when the next name is called: "Thirdarithmetic--Padger."

  Then doth Bramble the Tadpole stand in his seat and cheer till he ishoarse, and till his grandmother pulleth him by the tail of his jacket.The hero Padger, perspiring very much in the face, but otherwisecomposed, takes the homage of his chief and the third arithmetic prizewith becoming humility, and clears off the arena as fast as heconveniently can.

  Surely the Fourth Junior have come to an end now! No! there is one moreprize.

  "First Latin--Greenfield junior."

  This time there was a louder cheer than ever, for Stephen is a popularboy outside his own class. Oliver joins in the cheer, and Pembury andWraysford and one or two others, and of course the Guinea-pigs, go in alump for him. It is quite a minute before the noble Earl can get holdof the words of presentation; and when at last Stephen is dispatched,the Doctor turns round and says, "If you boys will make a _little_ lessnoise I dare say we shall get through the list quite as satisfactorily,and possibly a little more quickly."

  "Hear, hear!" says one of the governors, and nod, nod goes the nobleEarl's head.

  The consequence of this is that the prizes to the First, Second, Third,and Fourth Senior are presented amid something very much like silence,which, however, grows less and less solemn as the proceedings go on.The last Fourth Senior boy to be called is the hero Forrester, who isnow fully constituted a member of the first football fifteen. He gets avehement cheer at all costs, mingled with shouts of "Well kicked, sir!"

  "Hack it through!" and the like, which clearly show that the sympathy ofSaint Dominic's is quite as much with the exploits accomplished by theyoung hero's feet as by those of his head.

  Now for the Fifth! If the Doctor expects the company is to remainsolemn during the next quarter of an hour he knows nothing at all aboutthe school over which he presides.

  "Fifth Form--(cheers)--French--(cheers)--Pembury--(terrific applause,during which Tony walks in demurely on his crutches and receives hiswell-merited award). English history--(applause)--Pembury."

  Once more enter Tony on his crutches to receive another prize.

  "Bravo, Tony!"

  "Hurrah for the _Dominican_!"

  "Well done, Editor!" rise from various parts of the hall, in the midstof which Pembury retires positively for the last time.

  "First Greek prize--Wraysford."

  Wraysford advances gravely and slowly. The instant he appears therearises a cheer--the mightiest of any yet. Everybody cheers, and whenthey have done cheering they stamp, and when they have done stampingthey clap. Wraysford stands disconcerted and flushed with thedemonstration, at a loss whether to smile or frown. He knows themeaning of that cheer as well as anybody, and it grates on his earunpleasantly as he listens. What ages it seems before it is done, andthe noble Earl at last holds out the book and says, "I have greatpleasure, Wraysford, in handing you this prize. Your schoolfellows areall proud of you; I feel sure you deserve their good opinion. I wishyou success, Wraysford;" and so saying, the good old gentleman bobsaffably, and Wraysford, amid another tempest of applause, bows too, andtakes off his prize.

  "The next name," says the Doctor, referring to his list, "is that of thewinner of the Nightingale Scholarship--(sensation)--and I may tell yourlordship that the boy is, in the opinion of his examiners and myself,one of the most promising boys for his age that Saint Dominic's hasknown. The examiners report that his answers to the questions on thepaper deserve the greatest credit. I will say only this before hisface: Nightingale Scholarship--Greenfield senior."

  A solemn silence marks the close of the Doctor's speech, in the midst ofwhich Oliver, with pale face, but otherwise unmoved, advances to wherethe noble Earl stands. A few of the strangers greet his appearance witha clapping of hands, but the sound falls strangely on the silence allround.

  The noble Earl, who is evidently ready with a neat little speech whichshall sum the applause that never comes, is disconcerted at thisunwonted stillness. You might hear a pin fall as the old gentleman, indumb show, places the certificate into the boy's hand and tries to getat the words which the silence has scared away.

  Oliver waits no longer than he can help. With a bow, he takes theparchment and turns to quit the scene.

  It is at this moment, that somewhere or other in the hall, there rises afaint, almost whispered, hiss. Slight as it is, it falls with startlingeffect upon the dead silence which reigns. Then, like the first whisperof a storm, it suddenly grows and swells and rushes, angrily andwitheringly, about the head of the wretched Oliver. Then as suddenly itdies away into silence, and the presentation of the NightingaleScholarship is at an end.

  The visitors, the committee, the ladies, the noble Earl, look about themin blank astonishment and misery. The Doctor's face flushes up mightilyas he glares for one instant around him, and then drops his head overthe prize list.

  The only thing there is for him to do he does. He calls on the nextname as composedly as he can, and proceeds with the business of the day.

  But the magic has suddenly gone out of prize-day, and no coaxing canbring it back. The Fifth, and after them the Sixth, advance and receivetheir rewards amidst the listless indifference of the audience, anduncheered by the faintest spark of enthusiasm. No one takes the troubleto cheer anybody. Even Raleigh, the captain, comes in and out almostunheeded; and when at last the final name is reached, it is a relief toevery one.

  The rest of the day drags heavily--it is no use trying to get up thesteam. The visitors are out of humour, and the noble Earl leaves early.The musical feast provided by the glee club is a failure altogether. Afew only come to it, and nothing interferes with music like a pooraudience.

  As to the charade, it is abandoned at the last moment.

  Then a great many mothers and aunts make the discovery that there is anevening train from Maltby; and having made it, act upon it; and the tideof emigration sets out forthwith.

  Among the first to depart is Wraysford.

>   As he appears at the school door, trunk in hand, waiting for the schoolomnibus (which vehicle, by the way, is having a busy time of it),Pembury hobbles up, similarly equipped for the road.

  "You off by this train?" says the latter to Wraysford.

  "Yes; are you?"

  "I may as well. I can get home by nine; and my people won't be in agreat rage if I turn up earlier than they expect."

  "Well, we may as well get a fly as wait for the wretched omnibus," saysWraysford. "Come along; there are flies at the corner of Hall Street."

  Out walked the two, saying good-bye to one or two on the road. At thedrive gate two boys are standing waiting for the omnibus. Wraysford andPembury are upon them before they observe that these are Oliver and hisbrother.

  What is to be done? There is no escaping them--they must pass; yet bothof them, somehow, would at that moment--they couldn't tell why--havedropped into the earth.

  Oliver looks up as they approach.

  Now or never! Wraysford feels he must say something!

  "Good-bye, Greenfield," he says. "I hope--"

  Oliver quietly takes Stephen's arm and turns on his heel.

  Wraysford stares after him for a moment, and then slowly goes on hisway, breathing hard.

  "I wonder," said Pembury, after a long silence--"I wonder, Wray, if it'spossible we are wrong about that fellow?"

  Wraysford says nothing.

  "He doesn't act like a guilty person. Just fancy, Wray,"--and here Tonypulls up short, in a state of perturbation--"just fancy if you and I andthe rest have been making fools of ourselves all the term!"

  Ah! my Fifth Form heroes, just fancy!