The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 19

"Nevertherless, we would refer to one or two of these interesting attempts. Take, for example, the essay on the 'Character of Julius Caesar,' by one who signs himself Raleigh. This is very well written.

Pains have been taken about the formation of the letters, and some of the capitals are specially worthy of praise. For one so young, we rarely saw the capital D so well done. Dr Smith, were he alive, would be pleased to see his remarks on Caesar so well and accurately copied out. Master Wren gives us some verse--a translation out of Horace. We wonder if Mr Wren is any relation to the late Jenny Wren who married Mr c.o.c.k Robin. We should imagine from these verses that Mr Wren must be well acquainted with _Robbin_. Take one more, Master Loman's 'A Funny Story.' We are sorry to find Master Loman tells stories. Boys shouldn't tell stories; it's not right. But Master Loman unfortunately does tell stories, and this is one. He calls it 'A Funny Story.' That is a story to begin with, for it is not funny. We don't know what Master Loman thinks funny; perhaps he calls being run out at cricket funny, or hitting another boy in the mouth when he's looking another way. In any case, we can't make out why he calls this story funny. The only funny thing about it is its t.i.tle, and his spelling 'attach'

'attatch.' The last is really funny. It shows how partial Mr Loman is to _tea_. If this funny story is the result of his partiality to tea, we are afraid it was very weak stuff."

Loman, who had already been made dreadfully uncomfortable by Simon's poem, made no secret of his rage over this number of the _Dominican_.

He was one of those vain fellows who cannot see a jest where it is levelled at themselves. The rest of the Sixth had the sense, whatever they felt, to laugh at Anthony's hard hits. But not so Loman; he lost his temper completely. He ordered the _Dominican_ to be taken down; he threatened to report the whole Fifth to the Doctor. He would not allow the junior boys to stand and read it. In short, he made a regular a.s.s of himself.

Undoubtedly Anthony had put a great deal of venom into his pen. Still, by taking all the poison and none of the humour to himself Loman made a great mistake, and displayed a most unfortunate amount of weakness.

He shut himself up in his study in a fume; he boxed Stephen's ears for nothing at all, and would see no one for the rest of the evening. He knew well he could not have given his enemies a greater crow over him than such conduct, and yet he could not command his vanity to act otherwise.

But that evening, just before tea-time, something happened which gave Loman more to think about than the _Dominican_. A letter marked "Immediate" came to him by the post. It was from Cripps, to say that, after all, Sir Patrick _had_ won the Derby!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

COMPANY AT THE c.o.c.kCHAFER.

Cripps's letter was as follows:

"Hon. Sir,--This comes hoping you are well. You may like to know Sir Patrick won. The tip was all out. Honourable Sir,--My friend would like his ten pounds sharp, as he's a poor man. Please call in on Sat.u.r.day afternoon. Your very humble servant, Ben Cripps."

This letter was startling enough to drive fifty _Dominicans_ out of Loman's head, and for a long time he could hardly realise how bad the news it contained was.

He had reckoned to a dead certainty on winning the bet which Cripps had advised him to make with his friend. Not that Loman knew anything about racing matters, but Cripps had been so confident, and it seemed so safe to bet against this one particular horse, that the idea of events turning out otherwise had never once entered his head.

He went to the door and shouted for Stephen, who presently appeared with a paper dart in his hand.

"Greenfield," said Loman, "cut down at once to Maltby and bring me a newspaper."

Stephen stared.

"I've got my lessons to do," he said.

"Leave them here, I'll do them," replied Loman; "look sharp."

Still Stephen hesitated.

"We aren't allowed out after seven without leave," he faltered, longing to get back to the war preparations in the Fourth Junior.

"I know that, and I give you leave--there!" said Loman, with all the monitorial dignity he could a.s.sume. This quite disarmed Stephen. Of course a monitor could do no wrong, and it was no use objecting on that score.

Still he was fain to find some other excuse.

"I say, will it do in the morning?" he began.

Loman's only reply was a book shied at his f.a.g's head--quite explicit enough for all practical purposes. So Stephen hauled down his colours and prepared to start.

"Look sharp back," said Loman, "and don't let any one see you going out.

Look here, you can get yourself some brandy-b.a.l.l.s with this."

Stephen was not philosopher enough to argue with himself why, if he had leave to go out, he ought to avoid being seen going out. He pocketed Loman's extra penny complacently, and giving one last longing look in the direction of the Fourth Junior, slipped quietly out of the school and made the best of his way down to Maltby.

It was not easy at that time of day to get a paper. Stephen tried half a dozen stationers' shops, but they were all sold out. They were evidently more sought after than brandy-b.a.l.l.s, of which he had no difficulty in securing a pennyworth at an early stage of his pilgrimage.

The man in the sweet-shop told him his only chance of getting a paper was at the railway station.

So to the station he strolled, with a brandy-ball in each cheek. Alas!

the stall was closed for the day.

Stephen did not like to be beaten, but there was nothing for it now but to give up this "paper-chase," and return to Loman with a report of his ill-success.

As he trotted back up High Street, looking about everywhere but in the direction in which he was going (as is the habit of small boys), and wondering in his heart whether his funds could possibly stand the strain of another pennyworth of brandy-b.a.l.l.s, he suddenly found himself in sharp collision with a man who expressed himself on the subject of clumsy boys generally in no very measured terms.

Stephen looked up and saw Mr Cripps the younger standing before him.

"Why!" exclaimed that worthy, giving over his irascible expletives, and adopting an air of unfeigned pleasure, "why, if it ain't young Master Greenhorn. Ha, ha! How do, my young bantam? Pretty bobbish, eh?"

Stephen did not know exactly what was meant by "bobbish," but replied that he was quite well, and sorry he had trodden on Mr Cripps's toes.

"Never mind," said Mr Cripps, magnanimously, "you're a light weight.

And so you're taking a dander down town, are you? looking for lollipops, eh?"

Stephen blushed very red at this. However had Mr Cripps guessed about the brandy-b.a.l.l.s?

"I came to get a paper for Loman," he said, "but they're all sold out."

"No, are they? I wonder what Mr Loman wants with a paper, now?"

"He said it was very important, and I was to be sure to get one of to-day's," said Stephen. "Do you know where I can get one?"

"Of course. Come along with me; I've got one at home you can have. And so he said it was very important, did he? That's queer. There's nothing in to-day's paper at all. Only something about a low horse-race. He don't want it for that, I guess; eh?"

"Oh, no, I shouldn't think," said Stephen, trotting along beside his amiable acquaintance.

Mr Cripps was certainly a very friendly man, and as he conducted Stephen to the c.o.c.kchafer, Stephen felt quite a liking for him, and couldn't understand why Oliver and Wraysford both ran him down.

True, Mr Cripps did use some words which didn't seem exactly proper, but that Stephen put down to the habit of men in that part. The man seemed to take such an interest in boys generally, and in Stephen in particular, and was so interested and amused to hear all about the Guinea-pigs, and the _Dominican_, and the Sixth _versus_ School, that Stephen felt quite drawn out to him. And then he told Stephen such a lot of funny stories, and treated him with such evident consideration, that the small boy felt quite flattered and delighted.

So they reached the c.o.c.kchafer. Here Stephen, whose former visits had all been to the lock-house, pulled up.

"I say," said he, "is this a public-house?"

"Getting on that way," said Mr Cripps.

"We aren't allowed to go in public-houses," said Stephen, "it's one of the rules."

"Ah, quite right too; not a good thing for boys at all. We'll go in by the private door into my house," said Mr Cripps.

Stephen was not quite comfortable at this evasion, but followed Mr Cripps by the side door into his bar parlour.