Acton's Feud Part 28

"Well," said Philips, "all the other fellows have given in their names, bar you and Todd."

"Oh!" said Jim, with sudden interest, "you've asked Todd, have you?"

"Of course. Gus seemed rather waxy that he should be called upon. One might almost fancy he hadn't got the five shillings."

"Todd evidently is a miserable miser," said Jim, with a bitter smile at the thought of Gus's insolvent condition. "He isn't the same fellow he used to be."

"Jove, no!" said Philips; "he's come on no end this term. He's an improvement on the old Gus."

"Yes," said Jim, angrily; "the beaks have got him into their nets. But he ought to subscribe to the Penfold, when he's the biggest smug in Taylor's."

"And you ought too, Jim, since you've the biggest money-bags."

"All right," said Jim, "I'll subscribe. 'Twill look better if we all subscribe."

"You're a funny a.s.s, Cotton. I thought I was going to draw you blank.

What's the reason for your sudden change of mind?"

"I don't want to be bracketed equal with Toddy."

"That's settled, then," said Philips, who was puzzled at Jim's sudden change of front. "And now let's see to Merishall's work for the morning."

The subscriptions for a tablet in the great Penfold's honour were not hard to obtain, the upper form fellows in Taylor's dunning the rest of the house without mercy, and, to the great wonder of all, the foremost of the duns was James Cotton, Esq. The way he squeezed half-crowns out of the f.a.gs was reckoned little short of marvellous, and before the week was out every Taylor fellow had subscribed bar Gus. Jim's exertions were rewarded by the office of secretary to the Penfold Fund.

"We'll get a house list, Philips, and pin up a proper subscription list on the notice-board. The thing will look more ship-shape then. By the way, what was it the Penfold did? Is he dead?"

"You are a funny fellow, Cotton. Here you are sweating the half-crowns out of the f.a.gs and you don't know why you're doing it."

"That is just what I do know," said Jim, smiling serenely.

When the list was pinned up on the board, and opposite each fellow's name appeared the half-crown or crown he had contributed, it made a brave show. Towards the end of the list opposite the name of Todd, A.V.R., there had occurred a dismal blank thoughtfully filled by secretary Cotton with a couple of beautifully even lines ruled in staring red ink. This vivid dash of colour on the white paper gave poor Gus quite an unsolicited advertis.e.m.e.nt, and since none of the other fellows knew of Gus's circ.u.mstances, it practically put him in the pillory as a tight-fisted old screw. This result was exactly what Jim Cotton had in his mind when he fell in with the tablet scheme so enthusiastically. Pretty mean, wasn't it?

When Gus saw the staring red abomination for the first time it made him feel that he would like to pour a little boiling oil over the secretary of the fund, for to a fellow of Gus's temperament the chaffing remarks of his acquaintances and the knowing looks of the juniors made him shiver with righteous anger. He did not like being pilloried. He had desperate thoughts of going and publicly kicking Cotton, but he remembered, fortunately, that Jim would probably only make one mouthful of him. But he paced his room angrily, and except that he really meant to keep himself to his resolution of honourable poverty to the term's end he would have written home. Not to do so cost him a struggle.

There was some one else who eyed this plain manifesto of Gus's position with anger, and that was the Rev. E. Taylor himself. The house-master had not been a house-master for years for nothing, and he guessed pretty shrewdly that some one was writing off a debt with interest against Gus.

The house-master made a still shrewder guess as to who this might be, for he had watched the dissolution of the partnership of Cotton and Todd with great interest.

Thus it was that Philips was called into Taylor's room for a quiet little chat on house matters. "Your idea of a memento to Penfold was an excellent one, Philips, and the house seems to have taken it up very heartily."

"Oh yes!" said Philips, navely. "The fellows have taken any amount of interest, especially Cotton."

"Cotton's is rather a case of Saul among the prophets, isn't it, Philips?"

"This sort of thing didn't quite seem his line before, sir."

"No; I never thought so myself; but it is very pleasant to make a mistake, too. I see Todd, who is the best chemist in the house, does not subscribe at all."

"Most of the fellows thought it rather strange."

"And said so, no doubt?" said the master, looking abstractedly at his finger-nails.

"H'm!" said Philips, feeling uncomfortable at this thrust. "They may have."

"You see, Philips," said Taylor, gently, "there ought to have been no quizzing of Todd, for a contribution to a matter like this ought to be entirely voluntary--most emphatically so, I think. And if Todd does not see his way to subscribe--and he is the sole judge--there ought to be no remarks whatever."

"I see, sir," said Philips, dubiously.

"I was much annoyed to see that Todd's name has been prominently before the house for the last day or so."

"You mean on the notice-board, sir?"

"Yes; I can quite see why it is. The honorary secretary has not had much experience in this clerical work before, so he has fallen into a great mistake. In fact," said the house-master, bluntly, "the secretary's taste is not to be depended on."

"I don't think Cotton meant anything----" began Philips.

"Well, perhaps not," said the Rev. E. Taylor, doubtfully; "but, in any case, will you take down the present list, and draw up a fresh one--if you think one at all necessary--with only the names of subscribers upon it? A house list should not have been used at all. Please tell Cotton I said so, and I hope he will see the fairness of it."

Philips took down the offending list, and told Cotton the house-master's opinions. Jim Cotton had not very quick feelings, but contempt can pierce the sh.e.l.l of a tortoise, and as Philips innocently retailed the message, the secretary of the Penfold Tablet Fund knew there was one man who held him a cad.

CHAPTER XXIII

BOURNE _v._ ACTON

Jack had gone to London with his patron on Thursday. On Sat.u.r.day morning Acton went to Aldershot, carrying with him the hopes and good wishes of the whole of St. Amory's, and at night the school band had met him at the station. They (the band) struggled bravely--it was very windy--with "See, the Conquering Hero comes!" in front of the returned hero, who was "chaired" by frenzied Biffenites. The expected had happened. Acton had annihilated Rossal, Shrewsbury, and Harrow, and in the final had met the redoubtable Jarvis, from "Henry's holy shade." The delightful news circulated round St. Amory's that Acton had "made mincemeat" of Jarvis.

He had not, but after a close battle had scrambled home first; he had won, and that was the main thing.

As Acton walked into chapel on Sunday morning with Worcester, Corker got scant attention to his sermon; the f.a.gs to a man were thinking of Acton's terrible left. The gladiator lived in an atmosphere of incense for a whole day.

As Phil Bourne was finishing breakfast on Monday morning his f.a.g brought him his letters, and, after reading his usual one from home, he turned his attention to another one, whose envelope was dirty, and whose writing was laboriously and painfully bad amateur work.

"Rotherhithe," said Phil, looking at the post-mark. "Who are my friends from that beauty spot?"

I give the letter in all its fascinating simplicity.

"Rotherhithe, Sunday.

"Dear Sir, "I was sory as how I did not see you on thursday night when you came with Acting to Covent garden to do a small hedging in the linkinsheer handicap. I think since you did a fare settle about the gunn and pade up my little bill like a mann you would deserve the show at the "Kindumm" and the blow out at that swell tuck shop as Mister Acting said he was going to treat you to for coming with him to london.

I hopes you enjoyed em and As how that stiff necked old corker your beak--won't never find out.

"As you gave him the Propper slip and no Errer your beastly Chummy "Daniel Raffles."

The letter had evidently been meant for Jack, but had naturally reached Phil, since the envelope was directed to "Mr. Bourne."

Bourne, when he had struggled to the end of this literary gem, dropped the letter like a red-hot coal. Was it a hoax, or had Jack really gone up to town, as the letter said?

The "Mister Acting" made Phil's heart sink with dire forebodings.