[17]
THE WINTER TERM
It was the first day of the winter term.
The Bishop, as he came back by express, could not help feeling that,after all, life considered as an institution had its points. Things hadmended steadily during the last weeks of the term. He had kept up hisend as head of the House perfectly. The internal affairs of Leicester'swere going as smoothly as oil. And there was the cricket cup to live upto. Nothing pulls a House together more than beating all comers in thefield, especially against odds, as Leicester's had done. And then Monkand Danvers had left. That had set the finishing touch to a good term'swork. The Mob were no longer a power in the land. Waterford remained,but a subdued, benevolent Waterford, with a wonderful respect for lawand order. Yes, as far as the House was concerned, Gethryn felt noapprehensions. As regarded the School at large, things were bound tocome right in time. A school has very little memory. And in the presentcase the Bishop, being second man in the Fifteen, had unusualopportunities of righting himself in the eyes of the multitude. In thewinter term cricket is forgotten. Football is the only game thatcounts.
And to round off the whole thing, when he entered his study he found aletter on the table. It was from Farnie, and revealed two curious andinteresting facts. Firstly he had left, and Beckford was to know him nomore. Secondly--this was even more remarkable--he possessed aconscience.
'Dear Gethryn,' ran the letter, 'I am writing to tell you my father issending me to a school in France, so I shall not come back to Beckford.I am sorry about the M.C.C. match, and I enclose the four pounds youlent me. I utterly bar the idea of going to France. It's beastly, yourstruly, R. Farnie.'
The money mentioned was in the shape of a cheque, signed by Farniesenior.
Gethryn was distinctly surprised. That all this time remorse like aworm i' the bud should have been feeding upon his uncle's damask cheek,as it were, he had never suspected. His relative's demeanour since theM.C.C. match had, it is true, been considerably toned down, but this hehad attributed to natural causes, not unnatural ones like conscience.As for the four pounds, he had set it down as a bad debt. To get itback was like coming suddenly into an unexpected fortune. He began tothink that there must have been some good in Farnie after all, thoughhe was fain to admit that without the aid of a microscope the human eyemight well have been excused for failing to detect it.
His next thought was that there was nothing now to prevent him tellingthe whole story to Reece and Marriott. Reece, if anybody, deserved tohave his curiosity satisfied. The way in which he had abstained fromquestions at the time of the episode had been nothing short ofmagnificent. Reece must certainly be told.
Neither Reece nor Marriott had arrived at the moment. Both were in thehabit of returning at the latest possible hour, except at the beginningof the summer term. The Bishop determined to reserve his story untilthe following evening.
Accordingly, when the study kettle was hissing on the Etna, and Wilsonwas crouching in front of the fire, making toast in his own inimitablestyle, he embarked upon his narrative.
'I say, Marriott.'
'Hullo.'
'Do you notice a subtle change in me this term? Does my expressivepurple eye gleam more brightly than of yore? It does. Exactly so. Ifeel awfully bucked up. You know that kid Farnie has left?'
'I thought I missed his merry prattle. What's happened to him?'
'Gone to a school in France somewhere.'
'Jolly for France.'
'Awfully. But the point is that now he's gone I can tell you about thatM.C.C. match affair. I know you want to hear what really did happenthat afternoon.'
Marriott pointed significantly at Wilson, whose back was turned.
'Oh, that's all right,' said Gethryn. 'Wilson.'
'Yes?'
'You mustn't listen. Try and think you're a piece of furniture. See?And if you do happen to overhear anything, you needn't go gassing aboutit. Follow?'
'All right,' said Wilson, and Gethryn told his tale.
'Jove,' he said, as he finished, 'that's a relief. It's something tohave got that off my chest. I do bar keeping a secret.'
'But, I say,' said Marriott.
'Well?'
'Well, it was beastly good of you to do it, and that sort of thing, Isuppose. I see that all right. But, my dear man, what a rotten thing todo. A kid like that. A little beast who simply cried out for sacking.'
'Well, at any rate, it's over now. You needn't jump on me. I acted fromthe best motives. That's what my grandfather, Farnie's _pater_,you know, always used to say when he got at me for anything in thehappy days of my childhood. Don't sit there looking like a beastlychurchwarden, you ass. Buck up, and take an intelligent interest inthings.'
'No, but really, Bishop,' said Marriott, 'you must treat thisseriously. You'll have to let the other chaps know about it.'
'How? Put it up on the notice-board? This is to certify that Mr AllanGethryn, of Leicester's House, Beckford, is dismissed without a stainon his character. You ass, how can I let them know? I seem to seemyself doing the boy-hero style of things. My friends, you wronged me,you wronged me very grievously. But I forgive you. I put up with yourcruel scorn. I endured it. I steeled myself against it. And now Iforgive you profusely, every one of you. Let us embrace. It wouldn'tdo. You must see that much. Don't be a goat. Is that toast done yet,Wilson?'
Wilson exhibited several pounds of the article in question.
'Good,' said the Bishop. 'You're a great man, Wilson. You can make asmall selection of those biscuits, and if you bag all the sugar onesI'll slay you, and then you can go quietly downstairs, and rejoin yoursorrowing friends. And don't you go telling them what I've beensaying.'
'Rather not,' said Wilson.
He made his small selection, and retired. The Bishop turned to Marriottagain.
'I shall tell Reece, because he deserves it, and I rather think I shalltell Gosling and Pringle. Nobody else, though. What's the good of it?Everybody'll forget the whole thing by next season.'
'How about Norris?' asked Marriott.
'Now there you have touched the spot. I can't possibly tell Norrismyself. My natural pride is too enormous. Descended from a primordialatomic globule, you know, like Pooh Bah. And I shook hands with a dukeonce. The man Norris and I, I regret to say, had something of a row onthe subject last term. We parted with mutual expressions of hate, andhaven't spoken since. What I should like would be for somebody else totell him all about it. Not you. It would look too much like a put-upjob. So don't you go saying anything. Swear.'
'Why not?'
'Because you mustn't. Swear. Let me hear you swear by the bones of yourancestors.'
'All right. I call it awful rot, though.'
'Can't be helped. Painful but necessary. Now I'm going to tell Reece,though I don't expect he'll remember anything about it. Reece neverremembers anything beyond his last meal.'
'Idiot,' said Marriott after him as the door closed. 'I don't know,though,' he added to himself.
And, pouring himself out another cup of tea, he pondered deeply overthe matter.
Reece heard the news without emotion.
'You're a good sort, Bishop,' he said, 'I knew something of the kindmust have happened. It reminds me of a thing that happened to--'
'Yes, it is rather like it, isn't it?' said the Bishop. 'By the way,talking about stories, a chap I met in the holidays told me a ripper.You see, this chap and his brother--'
He discoursed fluently for some twenty minutes. Reece sighed softly,but made no attempt to resume his broken narrative. He was used to thissort of thing.
It was a fortnight later, and Marriott and the Bishop were once moreseated in their study waiting for Wilson to get tea ready. Wilson madetoast in the foreground. Marriott was in football clothes, rubbing hisshin gently where somebody had kicked it in the scratch game thatafternoon. After rubbing for a few moments in silence, he spokesuddenly.
'You must tell Norris,' he said. 'It's all rot.'
'I can't.'
'Then I shall.'
'No, don't. You swore you wouldn't.'
'Well, but look here. I just want to ask you one question. What sort ofa time did you have in that scratch game tonight?'
'Beastly. I touched the ball exactly four times. If I wasn't so awfullyornamental, I don't see what would be the use of my turning out at all.I'm no practical good to the team.'
'Exactly. That's just what I wanted to get at. I don't mean your remarkabout your being ornamental, but about your never touching the ball.Until you explain matters to Norris, you never will get a decent pass.Norris and you are a rattling good pair of centre threes, but if henever gives you a pass, I don't see how we can expect to have anycombination in the First. It's no good my slinging out the ball if thecentres stick to it like glue directly they get it, and refuse to giveit up. It's simply sickening.'
Marriott played half for the First Fifteen, and his soul was in thebusiness.
'But, my dear chap,' said Gethryn, 'you don't mean to tell me that aman like Norris would purposely rot up the First's combination becausehe happened to have had a row with the other centre. He's much toodecent a fellow.'
'No. I don't mean that exactly. What he does is this. I've watched him.He gets the ball. He runs with it till his man is on him, and then hethinks of passing. You're backing him up. He sees you, and says tohimself, "I can't pass to that cad"--'
'Meaning me?'
'Meaning you.'
'Thanks awfully.'
'Don't mention it. I'm merely quoting his thoughts, as deduced by me.He says, "I can't pass to that--well, individual, if you prefer it.Where's somebody else?" So he hesitates, and gets tackled, or elseslings the ball wildly out to somebody who can't possibly get to it.It's simply infernal. And we play the Nomads tomorrow, too. Somethingmust be done.'
'Somebody ought to tell him. Why doesn't our genial skipper assert hisauthority?'
'Hill's a forward, you see, and doesn't get an opportunity of noticingit. I can't tell him, of course. I've not got my colours--'
'You're a cert. for them.'
'Hope so. Anyway, I've not got them yet, and Norris has, so I can'tvery well go slanging him to Hill. Sort of thing rude people would callside.'
'Well, I'll look out tomorrow, and if it's as bad as you think, I'llspeak to Hill. It's a beastly thing to have to do.'
'Beastly,' agreed Marriott. 'It's got to be done, though. We can't gothrough the season without any combination in the three-quarter line,just to spare Norris's feelings.'
'It's a pity, though,' said the Bishop, 'because Norris is a rippinggood sort of chap, really. I wish we hadn't had that bust-up lastterm.'
[18]
THE BISHOP SCORES
At this point Wilson finished the toast, and went out. As he went hethought over what he had just heard. Marriott and Gethryn frequentlytalked the most important School politics before him, for they haddiscovered at an early date that he was a youth of discretion, whocould be trusted not to reveal state secrets. But matters now seemed todemand such a revelation. It was a serious thing to do, but there wasnobody else to do it, and it obviously must be done, so, by a simpleprocess of reasoning, he ought to do it. Half an hour had to elapsebefore the bell rang for lock-up. There was plenty of time to do thewhole thing and get back to the House before the door was closed. Hetook his cap, and trotted off to Jephson's.
Norris was alone in his study when Wilson knocked at the door. Heseemed surprised to see his visitor. He knew Wilson well by sight, hebeing captain of the First Eleven and Wilson a distinctly promisingjunior bat, but this was the first time he had ever exchanged a word ofconversation with him.
'Hullo,' he said, putting down his book.
'Oh, I say, Norris,' began Wilson nervously, 'can I speak to you for aminute?'
'All right. Go ahead.'
After two false starts, Wilson at last managed to get the thread of hisstory. He did not mention Marriott's remarks on football subjects, butconfined himself to the story of Farnie and the bicycle ride, as he hadheard it from Gethryn on the second evening of the term.
'So that's how it was, you see,' he concluded.
There was a long silence. Wilson sat nervously on the edge of hischair, and Norris stared thoughtfully into the fire.
'So shall I tell him it's all right?' asked Wilson at last.
'Tell who what's all right?' asked Norris politely.
'Oh, er, Gethryn, you know,' replied Wilson, slightly disconcerted. Hehad had a sort of idea that Norris would have rushed out of the room,sprinted over to Leicester's, and flung himself on the Bishop's bosomin an agony of remorse. He appeared to be taking things altogether toocoolly.
'No,' said Norris, 'don't tell him anything. I shall have lots ofchances of speaking to him myself if I want to. It isn't as if we werenever going to meet again. You'd better cut now. There's the bell justgoing. Good night.'
'Good night, Norris.'
'Oh, and, I say,' said Norris, as Wilson opened the door, 'I meant totell you some time ago. If you buck up next cricket season, it's quitepossible that you'll get colours of some sort. You might bear that inmind.'
'I will,' said Wilson fervently. 'Good night, Norris. Thanks awfully.'
The Nomads brought down a reasonably hot team against Beckford as ageneral rule, for the School had a reputation in the football world.They were a big lot this year. Their forwards looked capable, and when,after the School full-back had returned the ball into touch on thehalf-way line, the line-out had resulted in a hand-ball and a scrum,they proved that appearances were not deceptive. They broke through ina solid mass--the Beckford forwards never somehow seemed to gettogether properly in the first scrum of a big match--and rushed theball down the field. Norris fell on it. Another hastily-formed scrum,and the Nomads' front rank was off again. Ten yards nearer the Schoolline there was another halt. Grainger, the Beckford full-back, whosespeciality was the stopping of rushes, had curled himself neatly roundthe ball. Then the School forwards awoke to a sense of theirresponsibilities. It was time they did, for Beckford was now penned upwell within its own twenty-five line, and the Nomad halves wereappealing pathetically to their forwards to let that ball out, forgoodness' _sake_. But the forwards fancied a combined rush was thething to play. For a full minute they pushed the School pack towardstheir line, and then some rash enthusiast kicked a shade too hard. Theball dribbled out of the scrum on the School side, and Marriott puntedinto touch.
'You _must_ let it out, you men,' said the aggrieved half-backs.
Marriott's kick had not brought much relief. The visitors were stillinside the Beckford twenty-five line, and now that their forwards hadrealized the sin and folly of trying to rush the ball through, mattersbecame decidedly warm for the School outsides. Norris and Gethryn inthe centre and Grainger at back performed prodigies of tackling. Thewing three-quarter hovered nervously about, feeling that their timemight come at any moment.
The Nomad attack was concentrated on the extreme right.
Philips, the International, was officiating for them aswing-three-quarters on that side, and they played to him. If he oncegot the ball he would take a considerable amount of stopping. But theball never managed to arrive. Norris and Gethryn stuck to their mencloser than brothers.
A prolonged struggle on the goal-line is a great spectacle. That is why(purely in the opinion of the present scribe) Rugby is such a muchbetter game than Association. You don't get that sort of thing inSoccer. But such struggles generally end in the same way. The Nomadswere now within a couple of yards of the School line. It was a questionof time. In three minutes the whistle would blow for half-time, and theSchool would be saved.
But in those three minutes the thing happened. For the first time inthe match the Nomad forwards heeled absolutely cleanly. Hitherto, theball had always remained long enough in the scrum to give Marriott andWogan, the School halves, time to get round and on to their men beforethey could become dangerous. But this time the ball was in and outagain in a moment. The Nomad half who was
taking the scrum picked itup, and was over the line before Marriott realized that the ball wasout at all. The school lining the ropes along the touch-line applaudedpolitely but feebly, as was their custom when the enemy scored.
The kick was a difficult one--the man had got over in the corner--andfailed. The referee blew his whistle for half-time. The teams suckedlemons, and the Beckford forwards tried to explain to Hill, thecaptain, why they never got that ball in the scrums. Hill havingobserved bitterly, as he did in every match when the School did not getthirty points in the first half, that he 'would chuck the whole lot ofthem out next Saturday', the game recommenced.
Beckford started on the second half with three points against them, butwith both wind, what there was of it, and slope in their favour. Threepoints, especially in a club match, where one's opponents mayreasonably be expected to suffer from lack of training and combination,is not an overwhelming score.
Beckford was hopeful and determined.
To record all the fluctuations of the game for the next thirty-fiveminutes is unnecessary. Copies of _The Beckfordian_ containing afull report, crammed with details, and written in the most polishedEnglish, may still be had from the editor at the modest price ofsixpence. Suffice it to say that two minutes from the kick-off theNomads increased their score with a goal from a mark, and almostimmediately afterwards Marriott gave the School their first score witha neat drop-kick. It was about five minutes from the end of the game,and the Nomads still led, when the event of the afternoon took place.The Nomad forwards had brought the ball down the ground with one oftheir combined dribbles, and a scrum had been formed on the Beckfordtwenty-five line. The visitors heeled as usual. The half who was takingthe scrum whipped the ball out in the direction of his colleague. Butbefore it could reach him, Wogan had intercepted the pass, and was offdown the field, through the enemy's three-quarter line, with only theback in front of him, and with Norris in close attendance, followed byGethryn.
There is nothing like an intercepted pass for adding a dramatic touchto a close game. A second before it had seemed as though the Schoolmust be beaten, for though they would probably have kept the enemy outfor the few minutes that remained, they could never have worked theball down the field by ordinary give-and-take play. And now, unlessWogan shamefully bungled what he had begun so well, victory wascertain.
There was a danger, though. Wogan might in the excitement of the momenttry to get past the back and score himself, instead of waiting untilthe back was on him and then passing to Norris. The School on thetouch-line shrieked their applause, but there was a note of anxiety aswell. A slight reputation which Wogan had earned for playing a selfishgame sprang up before their eyes. Would he pass? Or would he runhimself? If the latter, the odds were anything against his succeeding.
But everything went right. Wogan arrived at the back, drew thatgentleman's undivided attention to himself, and then slung the ball outto Norris, the model of what a pass ought to be. Norris made no mistakeabout it.
Then the remarkable thing happened. The Bishop, having backed Norris upfor fifty yards at full speed, could not stop himself at once. Hisimpetus carried him on when all need for expenditure of energy had cometo an end. He was just slowing down, leaving Norris to complete thething alone, when to his utter amazement he found the ball in hishands. Norris had passed to him. With a clear run in, and the nearestfoeman yards to the rear, Norris had passed. It was certainly weird,but his first duty was to score. There must be no mistake about thescoring. Afterwards he could do any thinking that might be required. Heshot at express speed over the line, and placed the ball in the exactcentre of the white line which joined the posts. Then he walked back towhere Norris was waiting for him.
'Good man,' said Norris, 'that was awfully good.'
His tone was friendly. He spoke as he had been accustomed to speakbefore the M.C.C. match. Gethryn took his cue from him. It was evidentthat, for reasons at present unexplained, Norris wished for peace, andsuch being the case, the Bishop was only too glad to oblige him.
'No,' he said, 'it was jolly good of you to let me in like that. Why,you'd only got to walk over.'
'Oh, I don't know. I might have slipped or something. Anyhow I thoughtI'd better pass. What price Beckford combination? The home-madearticle, eh?'
'Rather,' said the Bishop.
'Oh, by the way,' said Norris, 'I was talking to young Wilson yesterdayevening. Or rather he was talking to me. Decent kid, isn't he? He wastelling me about Farnie. The M.C.C. match, you know, and so on.'
'Oh!' said the Bishop. He began to see how things had happened.
'Yes,' said Norris. 'Hullo, that gives us the game.'
A roar of applause from the touch-line greeted the successful attemptof Hill to convert Gethryn's try into the necessary goal. The refereeperformed a solo on the whistle, and immediately afterwards another, asif as an encore.
'No side,' he said pensively. The School had won by two points.
'That's all right,' said Norris. 'I say, can you come and have tea inmy study when you've changed? Some of the fellows are coming. I'veasked Reece and Marriott, and Pringle said he'd turn up too. It'll berather a tight fit, but we'll manage somehow.'
'Right,' said the Bishop. 'Thanks very much.'
Norris was correct. It was a tight fit. But then a study brew loseshalf its charm if there is room to breathe. It was a most enjoyableceremony in every way. After the serious part of the meal was over, andthe time had arrived when it was found pleasanter to eat wafer biscuitsthan muffins, the Bishop obliged once more with a recital of hisadventures on that distant day in the summer term.
There were several comments when he had finished. The only one worthrecording is Reece's.
Reece said it distinctly reminded him of a thing which had happened toa friend of a chap his brother had known at Sandhurst.
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