St. Winifred's Part 6

And Walter, flinging into the schoolroom, found several spirits seven times more wicked than himself, and fed the fire of his wrath with the fuel of unbounded abuse, mockery, and scorn of Mr Paton, in which he was heartily abetted by the others, who hailed all indications that Walter was likely to become one of themselves. And that evening, instead of attempting to get up any of his work, Walter wasted the whole time of preparation in noise, folly, and turbulence; for which he was duly punished by the master on duty.

He got up next morning breathing, with a sense of defiance and enjoyment, his new atmosphere of self-will. He, of course, broke down utterly, more utterly than ever, in his morning lessons, and got a proportionately longer imposition. Going back to his place, he purposely flung down his books on the desk, one after another with a bang; and for each book which he had flung down, Mr Paton gave him a hundred lines, whereupon he laughed sarcastically, and got two hundred more. Conscious that the boys were watching with some amus.e.m.e.nt this little exhibition of temper and trial of wills, he then took out a sheet of paper, wrote on it, in large letters, the words Two Hundred Lines for Mr Paton, and, amid the t.i.ttering of the form, carried it up to Mr Paton's desk.

This was the most astoundingly impudent and insubordinate act which had ever been done to Mr Paton for years, and it was now his turn to be angry. But mastering his anger with admirable determination, he merely said, "Evson, you must be beside yourself this morning; it is very rarely, indeed, that a new boy is so far gone in disobedience as this.

I have no hesitation in saying that you are the most audacious and impertinent new boy with whom I have ever had to deal. I must cane you in my room after detention, to which you will of course go."

"Thank you, sir," said Walter, with a smile of impudent _sang froid_; and the form t.i.ttered again as he walked noisily to his seat. But Mr Paton, allowing for his violent frame of mind, took no notice of this last affront.

Whereupon Walter, taking another large piece of paper, and a spluttering quill pen, wrote on it, with a great deal of scratching--

Due from Evson to Mr Paton.

For missing lesson... 100 lines.

For laying down books... 300 lines.

For laughing... 200 lines.

For writing 200 lines... A caning.

Detention, of course. Thank you for nothing.

And on the other side of the sheet he wrote in large letters--"No Go!"

Which, being done, he pa.s.sed the sheet along the form _pour encourager les autres_.

"Evson," said Mr Paton, quietly, "bring me that paper."

Walter took it up--looking rather alarmed this time--but with the side "_No go_!" uppermost.

"What is this, Evson?"

"Number ninety, sir," said Walter, amid the now unconcealed laughter of the rest, who knew very well that he had intended it for "No go."

Mr Paton looked curiously at Walter for a minute, and then said, "Evson, Evson, I could not have thought you so utterly foolish. Well, you know that each fresh act _must_ have its fresh punishment. You must leave the room now, and _besides all your other punishments_ I must also report you to the headmaster. You can best judge with what result."

This was a mistake of Mr Paton's--a mistake of judgment only--for which he cannot be blamed. But it was a disastrous mistake. Had he been at all a delicate judge or reader of the phenomena of character, he would have observed at once that at that moment there was a wild spirit of anger, a rankling sense of injustice and persecution in Walter's heart, which no amount of punishment could have cowed. Walter just then might without the least difficulty have been goaded into some act of violence which would have rendered expulsion from the school an unavoidable consequence. So easy is it to petrify the will, to make a boy bad in spite of himself, and to spoil, with no intentions but those of kindliness and justice, the promise of a fair young life. For when the will has once been suffered to grow rigid by obstinacy--a result which is very easy to avoid--no power on earth can bend it _at the time_. Had Mr Paton sent Walter out of the room before; had he at the end said, "Evson, you are not yourself to-day, and I forgive you," Walter would have been in a moment as docile and as humble as a child. But as it was, he left the room quite coolly, with a sneer on his lips, and banged the door; yet the next moment, when he found himself in the court alone, unsupported by the countenance of those who enjoyed his rebelliousness, he seated himself on a bench in the courtyard, hung his head on his breast, and burst into a flood of tears. If any friend could have seen him at that moment, or spoken one word in season, how much pain the poor boy might have been saved! Kenrick happened to cross the court; the moment Walter caught sight of him he sat with head erect and arms folded, but Kenrick was not to be deceived. He had caught one glimpse of Walter first; he saw his eyes wet with tears, and knew that he was in trouble. He hung on his foot doubtfully for one moment--but then his pride came in; he remembered the little pettish repulse in the playground the day before; the opportunity was lost, and he walked slowly on. And Walter's heart grew as hard within him as a stone.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

VOGUE LA GALERE.

Ah! Diamond, thou little knowest what mischief thou hast done.

Life of Sir I. Newton.

That afternoon Mr Paton, going into the Combination Room, where the masters often met, threw himself into one of the armchairs with an unwonted expression of vexation and disgust on his usually placid features.

"Why, what's the matter with you, Paton?" asked Mr Robertson. "Is to-day's _Times_ too liberal for your notions, or what?"

"No," said Mr Paton; "but I have just been caning Evson, a new boy, and the fellow's stubborn obstinacy and unaccountable coolness annoy me exceedingly."

"O yes; he's a pupil of mine, I'm sorry to say, and he has never been free from punishment since he came. Even your Procrustean rule seems to fail with him, Paton. What have you been obliged to cane him for?"

Mr Paton related Walter's escapade.

"Well, of course you had no choice but to cane him," replied his colleague, "for such disobedience; but how did he take it?"

"In the oddest way possible. He came in with punctilious politeness, obviously a.s.sumed, with sarcastic intentions. When I took up the cane he stood with arms folded, and a singularly dogged look; in fact, his manner disarmed me. You know I detest caning, and I really could not do it, never having had occasion for it for months together. I gave him two cuts, and then left off. 'May I go, sir?' he asked. 'Yes,' I said, and he left the room with a bow and a 'Thank you, sir.' I am really sorry for the boy; for as I was obliged to send him to Dr Lane, he will probably get another flogging from him."

"What a worthless boy he must be," answered Mr Robertson.

"No, not exactly worthless; there's something about him I can't help liking; but most impudent and stubborn."

"Excuse me," said Mr Percival, another of the masters, who had been listening attentively to the conversation; "I humbly venture to think that you're both mistaken in that boy. I like him exceedingly, and think him as promising a lad as any in the school. I never knew any boy behave more modestly and respectfully."

"Why, how do you know anything of him?" asked Mr Robertson in surprise.

"Only by accident. I had once or twice noticed him among the _detenus_, and being sorry to think that a new boy should be an _habitue_ of the extra schoolroom, I asked him one day why he was sent. He told me that it was for failing in a lesson, and when I asked why he hadn't learnt it, he said, very simply and respectfully, 'I really did my very best, sir; but it's all new work to me.' Look at the boy's innocent, engaging face, and you will be sure that he was telling me the truth.

"I'm afraid," continued Mr Percival, "you'll think this very slight ground for setting my opinion against yours; but I was pleased with Evson's manner, and asked him to come and take a stroll on the sh.o.r.e, that I might know something more of him. Do you know, I never found a more intelligent companion. He was all life and vivacity; it was quite a pleasure to be with him. Being new to the sea, he didn't know the names of the commonest things on the sh.o.r.e, and if you had seen his face light up as he kept picking up whelk's eggs, and mermaid's purses, and zoophytes, and hermit-crabs, and bits of plocamium or coralline, and asking me all I could tell him about them, you would not have thought him a stupid or worthless boy."

"I don't know, Percival; _you_ are a regular conjuror. All sorts of ne'er-do-wells succeed under your manipulation. You're a first-rate hand at gathering grapes from thorns, and figs from thistles. Why, even out of that Caliban, old Woods, you used to extract a gleam of human intelligence."

"He wasn't a Caliban at all. I found him an excellent fellow at heart; but what could you expect of a boy who, because he was big, awkward, and stupid, was always getting flouted on all sides? Sir Hugh Evans is not the only person who disliked being made a 'vlouting-stog.'"

"You must have some talisman for trans.m.u.ting boys if you consider old Woods an excellent fellow, Percival. I found him a ma.s.s of laziness and brute strength. Do give me your secret."

"Try a little kindness and sympathy. I have no other secret."

"I'm not conscious of failing in kindness," said Mr Robertson drily.

"My fault, I think, is being too kind."

"To clever, promising, bright boys--yes; to unthankful and evil boys (excuse me for saying so)--no. You don't try to descend to their dull level, and so understand their difficulties. You don't suffer fools gladly, as we masters ought to do. But, Paton," he said, turning the conversation, which seemed distasteful to Mr Robertson, "will you try how it succeeds to lay the yoke a little less heavily on Evson?"

"Well, Percival, I don't think that I've consciously bullied him. I can't make my system different to him and other boys."

"My dear Paton, forgive my saying that I don't think that a rigid system is the fairest; _summa lex summa crux_. Fish of very different sorts and sizes come to our nets, and you can't shove a turbot through the same mesh that barely admits a sprat."

"I'll think of what you say; but I must leave him in Dr Lane's hands now," said Mr Paton.

"Who, I heartily hope, won't flog him," said Mr Percival.

"Why? I don't see how he can do otherwise."

"Because it will simply drive him to despair; because, if I know anything of his character, it will have upon him an effect incalculably bad."

"I hope not," said Mr Paton.

The conversation dropped, and Mr Percival resumed his newspaper.