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

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

  LOMAN IN LUCK AGAIN.

  It certainly did look as if Loman was going to the dogs. And any oneable to see and know all that was going on in his mind would have foundout that he was a good deal nearer "the dogs" even than he seemed.

  On the evening after the examination he received a note from Cripps--brought up in a most barefaced way by one of the potboys at theCockchafer--requesting the pleasure of Mr Loman's company at thatpleasant spot _immediately_, to talk over business!

  "Why didn't he send it by post?" demanded Loman, angrily, of thedisreputable messenger. "Don't you know if you were seen up herethere'd be a row?"

  "Dunno so much about that, but the governor, he says he's dead on thejob this time, he says, and if you don't show up sharp with the stumpy,he says he'll give you a call himself and wake you up, he says--"

  "Tell him I'll come, and go off quick," said Loman, hurriedly.

  "Beg pardon, mister," said the potboy, with a leer, and touching hiscap, "anything allowed for this here little job--carrying up theletter?"

  "I'll allow you a kick if you don't go!" exclaimed the wretched Loman,furiously.

  "Oh, very good," said the boy, making a long nose. "Wait till thegovernor walks up. We'll see who'll kick then!"

  And so saying the amiable and respectable youth departed.

  "Hullo!" said Wren, coming up just at this moment, "who's your friend,Loman? He looks a nice sort of boy!"

  Wren was now captain and head monitor at Saint Dominic's--far too bluntand honest ever to be an object of anything but dislike and uneasinessto Loman. Now the uneasiness was the more prominent of the two. Lomanreplied, confused and reddening, "Oh, that boy? Why--oh, he's ashop-boy from the town, come up about an order--you know--for ahat-box."

  "I don't know. Do you mean Morris's boy?"

  "Ye--yes. A new boy of Morris's."

  "Well, whoever he is, he's a precious cheeky specimen. Why didn't youkick him?"

  "Eh? Kick him? Yes, I was just going to," began Loman, scarcelyknowing what he said, "when--"

  "When I turned up? Well, I shouldn't have interfered. By the way,Loman, I suppose you've given up going to that public now? What's thefellow's name?"

  "Cripps," said Loman. "Oh, I never go near the place now."

  "That's a good job. It was awkward enough his turning up as he did lastterm, and all a chance the Doctor didn't hear of it, I can tell you.Anyhow, now I'm captain, that sort of thing will have to drop, mind."

  "Oh, I assure you I've never been near the place since," said Loman,meekly, anxious if possible to keep the new captain in humour, much ashe disliked him.

  "I'm glad of it," said Wren, coldly.

  Just at that moment a third personage arrived on the scene. This wasSimon, who approached, not noticing Wren, and crying out with his usualgush, "Hullo, Loman, I say. I saw Cripps to-day. He was asking afteryou. He says you've not been down since last Sat--Hullo, Wren!"

  And here the poet caught sight of the captain.

  "So _you've_ been down to the Cockchafer, have you?" inquired Wren.

  "Well. Oh, don't tell, Wren, I say. I don't often go. Ask Loman if Ido. He's always there, and could easily tell if I went. Do I go often,Loman? Besides, I've given it up now!"

  "Quick work," observed Wren, drily, "if you were down there thismorning."

  "Well," said Simon, shifting his ground slightly, "I didn't think therecould be any harm, as Loman goes. _He's_ a monitor. And then I don'towe Cripps money, do I, Loman? Or play cards and bet, like you, do I?Oh, look here, Wren, do let us off this time. Don't report me, there'sa good fellow. I promise I won't do it again! Oh, I say, Loman, beg usoff. I never let out on you--not even when you got--"

  Wren, who had allowed this burst of eloquence to proceed thus far, hereturned sharply on his heel, and left the two companions in wrong inpossession of the field.

  Next morning, when Loman got up, he found the following note on histable:

  "Wraysford takes your place as monitor. The Doctor will be told youhave `resigned.'--C.W."

  Loman crushed the paper angrily in his hand, and muttered a curse as heflung it into the fire. He felt little enough gratitude to Wren fordescribing him merely as resigned, and not, as was actually the case,dismissed. Yet, even in his wretchedness, there was an atom of reliefin knowing that at least a shred of his good old name remained.

  Poor shred indeed! but better than nothing.

  Every one treated him as usual--except Wren, who cut him contemptuously.The Sixth, ever since the exposure at the football match last term, hadlost any respect they ever had for their comrade, and many had wonderedhow it was he was still allowed to remain a monitor. Every one nowsupposed he had taken "the better part of valour" in resigning, and, asit mattered very little to any one what he did, and still less what hethought, they witnessed his deposition from the post of honour withprofound indifference.

  Poor Loman! Some righteous reader will be shocked at my pitying such afoolish, miserable failure of a fellow as this Edward Loman; and yet hewas to be pitied, wasn't he? He hadn't been naturally a vicious boy, ora cowardly boy, or a stupid boy, but he had become all three; and as hesat and brooded over his hard luck, as he called it, that morning, hismind was filled with mingled misery and fear and malice towards everyone and everything, and he felt well-nigh desperate.

  His interview with Cripps came off that afternoon. The landlord of theCockchafer, as the reader may have gathered, had changed his tone prettyconsiderably the last few days, and Loman found it out now.

  "Well?" said he, gloomily, as the boy entered.

  "Well?" said Loman, not knowing how to begin.

  "I suppose you've got my money?" said Cripps.

  "No, Cripps, I haven't," said the boy.

  "All right," said Cripps; "that's quite enough for me;" and, to Loman'sastonishment and terror, he walked away without another word, and leftthe unhappy boy to stay or go as he pleased.

  Loman could not go, leaving things thus. He must see Cripps again, ifit was only to know the worst. So he stayed in the bar for thelandlord's return. Cripps took no notice of him, but went on with hisordinary pursuits, smiling to himself in a way which perfectly terrifiedhis victim. Loman had never seen Cripps like this before.

  "Cripps," he said, after half an hour's waiting--"Cripps, I want tospeak to you."

  "You may want," was the surly reply. "I've done with you, younggentleman."

  "Oh, Cripps, don't talk like that! I do mean to pay you, everyfarthing, but--"

  "Yes, you're very good at meaning, you are," said the other. "Anyhow,it don't much matter to me _now_."

  "What _do_ you mean, Cripps? Oh, do give me a little more time! Aweek--only a week longer."

  "Aren't you done?" was the only reply; "aren't you going home?"

  "Will you, Cripps? Have pity on me! I'm so miserable!"

  Cripps only whistled pleasantly to himself.

  Loman, almost frantic, made one last effort.

  "Give us just a week more," he entreated.

  No answer.

  "Do speak, Cripps; say you will; please do!"

  Cripps only laughed and went on whistling.

  "Oh, what shall I do, what _shall_ I do?" cried the wretched boy. "Ishall be ruined if you don't have some pity--"

  "Look here," said Cripps, curtly, "you'd better stop that noise here, mylad. You can go; do you hear? Look alive."

  It was no use staying further. Loman went What anguish he endured forthe next twenty-four hours no one knows. What plans he turned in hishead, what wild schemes, what despair, what terrors filled him, only hehimself could tell. Every moment he expected the fatal vision of Crippsat Saint Dominic's, and with it his own certain disgrace and ruin, and,as time went on, his perturbation became so great that he really feltill with it.

  But Cripps did not come that day or the next. The next day was one ofmighty excitement in Saint Dominic's. The result of th
e examination forthe Waterston Exhibition was announced.

  Had any other three boys but those actually taking part been thecompetitors, few outsiders would have felt much interest in the resultof an ordinary examination confined to Sixth Form boys. But on thisoccasion, as we have seen, the general curiosity was aroused. No oneexpected much of Loman. The school had discovered pretty well by thistime that he was an impostor, and their chief surprise had been that heshould venture into the list against two such good men as Oliver andWraysford.

  But which of those two was to win? That was the question. Every onebut a few had been positive it would be Wraysford, whom they looked uponas the lawful winner of the Nightingale last term, and whom, they wereconvinced, Oliver was unable to beat by fair means. And yet to these ithad been a great astonishment to hear that Oliver had entered for theexamination. Unless he was certain of winning he would only do himselfharm by it, and confirm the suspicions against him. And yet, if heshould win after all--if he was able fairly to beat Wraysford--whyshould he have gone to the trouble last term of stealing the examinationpaper and making himself the most unpopular boy in all Saint Dominic's?

  These questions sorely exercised the school, and made them await eagerlythe announcement of the result.

  The news came at last.

  "I have just received," said Mr Jellicott that morning, when the Fifthand Sixth were assembled together in the lecture-theatre--"I have justreceived from the examiners the report on the Waterston examination.The result is as follows: First--Greenfield, 108 marks; second--Wraysford, 96 marks; third--Loman, 20 marks."

  Here Mr Jellicott was interrupted by a laugh and a muttered "Bravo,Loman! very good!" in what sounded to the knowing something likePembury's voice. The master looked up and frowned angrily, and thenproceeded: "The examiners add an expression of their very high approvalof Greenfield's answers. The highest marks obtainable were 120, and,considering he left the last question untouched--doubtless for want oftime--they feel that he has passed with very great distinction, andfully in accordance with their expectations of the winner of theNightingale Scholarship last term. We will now proceed to the usuallessons."

  This announcement made the strangest impression on all present. No oneattempted any demonstration, but while Mr Jellicott was speaking manyperplexed and troubled faces turned to where Oliver, by the side of hisfriend Wraysford, was sitting. Wraysford's face was beaming as heclapped his friend on the back. Oliver looked as unconcerned andindifferent as ever. The fellow _was_ a puzzle, certainly.

  As soon as lesson was over, the Fifth retired to its own quarters in aperturbed state of mind, there to ponder over what had happened. Oliverspared them the embarrassment of his society as usual, and Wraysford wasnot there either. So the Fifth were left pretty much to their owndevices and the guidance of some lesser lights.

  "Isn't it queer?" said Ricketts. "Whoever would have thought of itturning out like this?"

  "One could understand it," said Braddy, "if there had been any chance ofhis repeating the dodge of last term. But he couldn't have done that."

  "I don't know," said another; "he may have been up to some other dodge.Perhaps he copied off Wraysford."

  "Hardly likely," said Bullinger, "up on the front desk just underJellicott's nose."

  "Well, I can't make it out at all," said Ricketts.

  "Nor can I," said Bullinger.

  All this while Pembury had not spoken, but he now turned to Simon, andsaid, "What do _you_ think, Simon? Did you see Greenfield stealing theexamination paper this time, eh?"

  "Oh, no, not this time," promptly replied the poet; "last term it was,you know. I didn't see him this time."

  "Oh, you didn't even see him with it in his pocket? Now, be verycareful. Are you sure he didn't have it in his pocket a day before theexam?"

  "Why," said Simon, laughing at Pembury's innocence, "how could I seewhat was in a fellow's pocket, Pembury, you silly! I can't tell what'sin your pocket."

  "Oh, can't you? I thought you could, upon my honour. I thought you sawthe paper in Greenfield's pocket last term."

  "So I did. That is--"

  Here the wretched poet was interrupted by a general laugh, in the midstof which he modestly retired to the background, and left the Fifth tosolve the riddle in hand by themselves.

  "Suppose," began Pembury, after a pause--"suppose, when Braddy's doneplaying the fool, if such a time ever comes--"

  Here Braddy collapsed entirely. He would sooner be sat upon by DrSenior himself than by Pembury.

  "Suppose," once more began Pembury, amid dead silence--"suppose, insteadof Greenfield senior being a thief and liar, I and all of you have beenfools and worse for the last six months? Wouldn't that be funny, youfellows?"

  "Why, whatever do you mean?" demanded Tom Senior.

  "Why, you don't suppose I mean anything, do you?" retorted thecross-grained Tony. "What's the use of saying what you mean--"

  "But do you really--" began Bullinger.

  "I say, suppose I and you, Bullinger, and one or two others here whoought to have known better, have been making fools of ourselves,wouldn't that be funny?"

  There was a pause, till Simon, plucking up heart, replied, "Very funny!"

  The gravity even of Pembury broke down at this, and the presentconference of the Fifth ended without arriving at any nearer conclusionon the question which was perplexing it.

  Meanwhile, Oliver and Wraysford were in their study, talking over theevent of the day.

  "I was certain how it would be, old boy," said Wraysford, genuinelydelighted. "I wonder what the Fifth will say now? Bah! it doesn'tbecome me to say too much, though, for I was as bad as any of themmyself."

  "No, you weren't, old boy; you never really believed it. But I say,Wray, I don't intend to take this exhibition. You must have it."

  "I!" exclaimed Wraysford. "Not a bit of me. You won it."

  "But I never meant to go in for it, and wouldn't have if it had not beenfor the Fifth. After all, it's only twenty pounds. Do take it, oldman. I've got the Nightingale, you know."

  "What does that matter? I wouldn't have this for anything. The fellowstried to make me think _I_ was the real winner of the Nightingale, and Iwas idiot enough half to believe it. But I think I've had a lesson."

  "But, Wray--"

  "Not a word, my dear fellow; I won't hear of it."

  "Very well, then; I shall shy the money when I get it into the nearestfish-pond."

  "All serene," said Wraysford, laughing; "I hope the fish will relishit."

  At that moment there was a knock at the door.

  "Come in," said Oliver.

  The door opened, and, to the astonishment of the two boys, Lomanentered.

  Was it peace, or war, or what? Loman's miserable face and strangemanner quickly answered the question.

  "Oh, Greenfield," he said, "excuse me. I want to speak to you;" andhere he glanced at Wraysford, who rose to go.

  "Stay where you are, Wray," said Oliver. "What is it, Loman?"

  Loman, quite cowed, hardly knew how to go on.

  "I was glad to hear you got the Waterston," he said. "I--I thought youwould."

  What was the fellow at?

  After a long pause, which seemed to drive Loman almost to despair, hesaid, "You'll wonder what I have come here for. I know we've not beenfriends. But--but, Greenfield, I'm in awful trouble."

  "What is it?" again asked Oliver.

  "Why, the fact is," said Loman, gaining courage, as he found neitherOliver nor Wraysford disposed to resent his visit--"the fact is,Greenfield, I'm in debt. I've been very foolish, you know, betting andall that. I say, Greenfield, _could_ you possibly--would you lend me--eight pounds? I don't know why I ask you, but unless I can pay themoney to-day, I shall--"

  "What!" exclaimed Oliver, "eight pounds to pay your bets?"

  "Oh, no, not all bets. I've been swindled too--by Cripps. You knowCripps."

  And here Loman, utterly miserable, threw h
imself down on a chair andlooked beseechingly at the two friends.

  "I could pay you back in a month or so," he went on; "or at any ratebefore Easter. Do lend it me, please, Greenfield. I don't know whereelse to go and ask, and I shall get into such an awful row if I can'tpay. Will you?"

  Oliver looked at Wraysford; Wraysford looked at Oliver; and then bothlooked at Loman. The sight of the wretched boy there entreating moneyof the very fellow who had least reason in all Saint Dominic's to likehim, was strange indeed.

  "Wray," said Oliver, abruptly, after another pause, during which he hadevidently made up his mind, "have you any money about you?"

  "I've three pounds," said Wraysford, taking out his purse.

  Oliver went to his desk and took from it a five-pound note which wasthere, his savings for the last year. This, with Wraysford's threesovereigns, he handed without a word to Loman. Then, not waiting tohear the thanks which the wretched boy tried to utter, he tookWraysford's arm and walked out of the study.