The Cock-House at Fellsgarth Part 9

"I believe your f.a.g was one of them."

"Percy Wheatfield? Catch him being shut out of anything. But I'll ask about it. Fancy poor Yorke's feelings if we were to demand a new election!"

"I tell you what," said Dangle, "I don't altogether understand Yorke.

He tries to pa.s.s off as fair, and just, and all that sort of thing; but one can't be sure he's not playing a game of his own."

"We shall easily see that when it comes to choosing the football fifteen against Rendlesham. I mean to send him in a list of fellows on our side. It's only fair we should have half of them our men."

"Half fifteen is seven and a half," said Fullerton, a melancholy senior who had not yet spoken; "how will you manage about that?"

"Shut up, you a.s.s!"

"I only asked," said Fullerton. "It doesn't matter to me, I don't mind going as the half man, if you like. If you send seven names you'll be in a minority in the fifteen, and if you send eight you'll be in a majority. It doesn't matter to me a bit."

"Just like Fullerton. Always asking riddles that haven't got an answer," said Dangle.

"I wonder how Fisher will manage the treasurership," said Brinkman, who was evidently sore at his defeat. "I shouldn't have thought accounts were much in his line."

"He can't have very hard work doing his own," said Clapperton, laughing, "but that's not his fault, poor beggar. Only I think it would be much better to have a fellow for treasurer who wasn't in a chronic state of being hard up."

"I suppose you mean," said Fullerton, who had a most awkwardly blunt way of putting things, "he'd have less temptation to steal. I hope Fisher's not a thief."

"What an idiot you are, Fullerton!" said Clapperton; "whoever said he was?"

"I didn't. I only asked what you thought. It doesn't much matter to me, except that it wouldn't be creditable to the School."

"Of course it wouldn't; it's hardly creditable to our side to have a jacka.s.s in it," said Clapperton.

"Oh, all right--I'll go. I dare say you'll get on as well without me."

The others presently followed his example, and Clapperton, left to himself, proceeded to draw up his list.

"Dear Yorke," he wrote, "You will probably be making up the fifteen for the Rendlesham match shortly. Please put down me, Brinkman, Dangle, Fullerton, West, Harrowby, and Ramshaw major, to play from our side.

This will give your side the odd man.

"Yours truly,--

"Geo. Clapperton."

This important epistle accomplished, he shouted for his f.a.g to come and convey it to its destination.

It was not till after several calls, on an increasing scale of peremptoriness, that Master Percy condescended to appear. When he did, he was covered with dust from head to foot, and his face, what could be seen of it, was visibly lopsided.

"Why don't you come when you're called? Whatever have you been up to-- fighting?"

"Rather not," said Percy, "only boxing. You see, it was this way; Cottle brought a pair of gloves up this term, and young Lickford had an old pair; so we three and Ramshaw have been having an eight-handed mill.

It was rather jolly; only Ramshaw and Lickford had the old gloves on, and they've all the horse-hair out, so Cottle and I got it rather hot on the face. But we took it out of them with our body blows--above the belt, you know--not awfully above. I couldn't come when you called, because we were wrestling out one of the rounds. It's harder work an eight-handed wrestle than four hands. Just when you called first, I nearly had Cottle and Lickford down, but you put me off my trip, and Ramshaw had me over instead."

"All very interesting," said Clapperton, "but you'll have to come sharp next time or I shall trip you up myself. Take this note over to Yorke.

Stop while he reads it, and if there's any answer, bring it; if not, don't wait."

"Can't Cash take it? We're not nearly finished."

"No. Cut off, sharp!"

"Awful shame!" growled the messenger to himself, as he departed. "I hate Clapperton; he always waits till I'm enjoying myself, and then routs me out. I shan't stand it much longer. What does he want with Yorke! Perhaps it's a challenge. Yes, by the way, very good chance!

I'll see what that cad Wally's got to say about those kids I found in his room yesterday. Nice old games he gets up to; Wally's all very well when he's asleep, or grubbing, or doing impositions, but he's a sight too artful out of school, like all those Cla.s.sic kids. One's as bad as another."

As if to emphasise this sentiment, a Cla.s.sic kid at that moment came violently into collision with Master Percy's waistcoat.

It was Fisher minor, who had once more caught sight in the distance of the mysterious borrower of his half-crown, and was giving chase.

"Where are you coming to, you kid. You've nearly smashed a b.u.t.ton.

I'll welt you for that."

"I beg your pardon, Wally, I--"

"Wally--what do you mean by calling me Wally?" exclaimed Percy.

"Well, Wheatfield, I beg your pardon; I was in a hurry to catch a fellow up and I didn't see you."

"Didn't you? Well, you'll feel me. Take that."

Fisher minor meekly accepted the cuff, and, full of his half-crown, essayed to proceed. But Percy stopped him.

"You're that new kid, Fisher's minor, aren't you?"

It astonished Fisher minor, that the speaker, whom he supposed he had seen only ten minutes ago, should so soon have forgotten his name.

"Yes, but I say, Wally, I mean Wheatfield--"

"Humph--I suppose you held up both hands for your precious brother yesterday."

"No, only one. I was nearly late, though. I waited an hour at the gymnasium, you know, and no Modern chaps came out at all."

Percy began to smell rats.

"Waited at the gymnasium, did you? Who told you to do that?"

"Oh, you know--it was part of the canva.s.sing."

"Oh, _you_ were in that job, were you, my boy? All serene, I'll--"

"I say," cried Fisher minor, turning pale, "aren't you Wally Wheatfield?

I thought--"

"Me Wally? what do you take me for? I'll let you know who I am. You're a beauty, you are. Some of our chaps'll tell you who I am, Mr Canva.s.ser. Now, look here, you stop there till I come back from Yorke's. If you move an inch--whew! you'll find the weather pretty warm, I can tell you. Canva.s.sing? You'll get canva.s.sed, I fancy, before you grow much taller."

And off stalked the indignant Percy, promising himself a particularly pleasant afternoon, as soon as his errand to the captain was over.