The Willoughby Captains - Reed Talbot Baines (книги бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

Wyndham would have given much to be free to make a full confession of all his “going wrong” to the sympathetic Riddell, but, heartily weary as he was of Silk and Gilks, he had promised them to keep their secrets, and young Wyndham, whatever his faults, was honest.

Riddell was quick enough to see that there was something of the sort, and did not press to know more. It was too good news to hear from the boy’s own lips that he was determined to break loose from these bad friends, to need to know any more.

“I don’t know how it is,” said Wyndham, after another pause. “It seems so much easier for some fellows to keep square than for others. I’ve made up my mind I’d do right a dozen times this term, but it’s never come off.”

“It’s hard work, I know,” said Riddell, sympathisingly.

“Yet it seems easy enough to you. I say, I wish you’d look sharp after me for a week or so, Riddell, till I get a good start.”

Riddell laughed.

“A lot of good that would do you! The best person to look sharp after young Wyndham is young Wyndham himself.”

“Of course I know,” said the boy, “but I’ve sort of lost confidence in myself.”

“We can’t any of us stand by ourselves,” said the captain. “I know I can’t. But the help is easy to get, isn’t it?”

I need not repeat all the talk that took place that morning between the two boys. What they said was meant for no ears but their own. How one in his quiet manly way tried to help the younger boy, and how the other with all sorts of fears and hopes listened and took courage, was known only to the two friends themselves, and to One other from Whom no secrets — not even the secrets of a schoolboy — are hid.

The bell for call-over put an end to their talk, and with lighter hearts than most in Willoughby they walked across to the Great Hall and heard the doctor’s sentence on the truants of yesterday.

It was not very formidable. No half-holiday next Wednesday, and for the seniors a hundred lines of Greek to write out; for the Limpets a hundred lines of Latin, and for the juniors fifty lines of Latin. The doctor had evidently taken a lenient view of the case, regarding the escapade more as a case of temporary insanity than of determined disobedience. However, he relieved his mind by a good round lecture, to which the school listened most resignedly.

There was, however, one part of the punishment which fell heavily on a few of those present. Among the truants had been no less than five monitors — Game, Tipper, Ashley, Silk, and Tucker.

“It would be a farce,” said the doctor, severely, “after what has happened, to allow you to retain the posts of confidence you have held in the school. Your blame is all the greater in proportion as your influence was greater too. For the remainder of this term you cease to be monitors. It depends entirely on yourselves whether next term you are reinstated.”

Chapter Twenty Two

A Mysterious Letter

It was hardly to be expected that the political excitement of Willoughby would altogether disappear until the result of the election was made known. And for some reason or other a whole day had to elapse before the tidings found their way up to the school.

After what had happened no one had the hardihood to ask leave to go down into the town, and none of the butcher’s or baker’s boys that Parson and Telson intercepted in the grounds could give any information. The hopes of Willoughby centred on Brown, the town boy, whose arrival the next morning was awaited with as much excitement and impatience as if he had been a general returning home from a victorious campaign.

Fully aware of his importance, and feeling popularity to be too unusual a luxury to be lightly given up, he behaved himself at first with aggravating reserve.

“Who’s in!” shouted Parson from the school gate, the moment Brown appeared about a quarter of a mile down the road.

Brown, of course, could not hear.

The question was repeated with greater vehemence as he approached, until at last he had no excuse for not hearing.

“Do you hear, you old badger, who’s in?” yelled Parson and Telson.

“Look here, you kids,” said Brown, loftily, “who are you calling a badger? I’ll knock your cheeky heads together if you don’t look out.”

“Oh I say, who’s in! can’t you speak?” reiterated the youths, who at this moment possessed only one idea between them.

“Who is it? Who’s got in?” repeated some Limpets, who were as eager every bit to hear as the juniors.

“In where?” replied the aggravating Brown, shouldering his way in at the gate and intoxicated with his own importance. “What are you talking about?”

“Why, who’s been elected for Shellport? Is Pony in?” shouted the boys, impatiently.

“Pony!” rejoined Brown, half-contemptuously, “do you suppose they’d have an old stick like him!”

“What,” exclaimed Merrison. “Is Cheeseman in after all, then?”

“Eh?”

“Is Cheeseman in, can’t you hear?”

“I never said he was,” replied Brown, majestically.

This was rather too much, and a simultaneous rush was made for the pompous town boy, and the secret forcibly extracted in double quick time.

“Now,” cried one of the Limpets, giving his arm a premonitory screw, “out with it, or I’m sorry for you.”

“Here, let go my arm, you cad, I say; oh! you hurt! let go, I — oh! oh! Cheeseman’s in!”

The arm was flung away in disgust as a simultaneous groan greeted the announcement.

“How much by?” demanded the inquisitors, once more preparing to apply the screw.

But Brown had had quite enough of it, and answered glibly, “Eight hundred and twenty-five majority!”

This was a terrible blow, and in the general dismay which followed, Brown was temporarily overlooked.

“Eight hundred and twenty-five!” exclaimed Merrison. “Why, it’s an awful licking. Every one was sure Pony would be five hundred ahead.”

“It’s foul play and bribery, depend on it,” said another.

“Or they’ve counted wrong.”

“Or Brown is telling lies!”

Now, if Brown had been a wise boy he would have taken advantage of the excitement which immediately followed his announcement to retreat quietly and rapidly up to the school, and he reproached himself greatly that he had not. For the ill-temper of the assembly was only too ready to fix on some object upon which to vent itself, and this last suggestion, coupled with the suspicion that Brown’s father had been one of the backers of the Radical candidate, brought the town boy once more into most uncomfortable notoriety.

He was hunted almost for his life round the playground and up to the school. It was no use for him to protest that he was out-and-out yellow, that his father had been on Pony’s committee. He was far too valuable a scapegoat to be let off; and when at last he managed to bolt headlong into the school and seek shelter in the master’s cloak-room, it is safe to say that though he himself felt rather the worse for the adventure, Willoughby on the whole felt rather better.

In due time the news was confirmed, and the school settled rather viciously down to its ordinary work. It was almost a relief when first school was over, and all those who had impositions to write were ordered to keep their places and begin their tasks.

What venom of wrath and disappointment could they not put into those unlucky lines! If the paper had only been the skin of the Radical Cheeseman, and the pens needles, how they would have delighted in their penalty!

Scarcely had they begun work, however, when the school messenger came round unexpectedly to summon the whole school to assemble in the Great Hall. What could it be? Was it another lecture? or had the doctor repented of letting them off so easy? Or was there to be another change in the captaincy? or what?

The hall soon filled, and every one waited impatiently for the doctor. He arrived presently, with a letter in his hand and a somewhat important look on his face.