The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 20

"You won't forget the paper," he said, "please. I've got to be back in school directly."

"I'll have a look for it. Now, I guess you like ginger-beer, don't you?"

Stephen was particularly partial to ginger-beer, as it happened, and said so.

"That's the style," said Mr Cripps, producing a bottle. "Walk into that while I go and get the paper."

Stephen did walk into it with great relish, and began to think Mr Cripps quite a gentleman. He was certain, even if that bat had been a poor one, it was quite worth the money paid for it, and Oliver was unjust in calling Cripps hard names.

The landlord very soon returned with the paper.

"Here you are, young governor. Now don't hurry away. It's lonely here all by myself, and I like a young gentleman like you to talk to. I knew a nice little boy once, just your age, that used to come and see me regular once a week and play bagatelle with me. He was a good player at it too!"

"Could he get clear-board twice running with two b.a.l.l.s?" asked Stephen, half jealous of the fame of this unknown rival.

"Eh!--no, scarcely that. He wasn't quite such a dab as that."

"I can do it," said Stephen with a superior smile.

"You? Not a bit of you!" said Mr Cripps, incredulously.

"Yes, I can," reiterated Stephen, delighted to have astonished his host.

"I must see it before I can believe that," said Mr Cripps. "Suppose you show me on my board."

Stephen promptly accepted the challenge, and forgetting in his excitement all about school rules or Loman's orders accompanied Cripps to the bagatelle-room, with its sanded floor, smelling of stale tobacco and beer-dregs. His first attempt, greatly to Mr Cripps's glee, was unsuccessful.

"I knew you couldn't," exclaimed that worthy.

"I know I can do it," said Stephen, excitedly. "Let's try again."

After a few more trials he made the two clear-boards, and Mr Cripps was duly astonished and impressed.

"That's what I call smart play," said he. "Now, if I was a betting man, I'd wager a sixpence you couldn't do it again."

"Yes, I can, but I won't bet," said Stephen. He did do it again, and Mr Cripps said it was a good job for him the young swell didn't bet, or he would have lost his sixpence. Stephen was triumphant.

How long he would have gone on showing off his prowess to the admiring landlord of the c.o.c.kchafer, and how far he might have advanced in the art of public-house bagatelle, I cannot say, but the sudden striking of a clock and the entry of visitors into the room reminded him where he was.

"I must go back now," he said, hurriedly.

"Must you? Well, come again soon. I've a great fancy to learn that there stoke. I'm a born fool at bagatelle. What do you say to another ginger-beer before you go?"

Stephen said "Thank you," and then taking the newspaper in his hand bade Cripps good-bye.

"Good-bye, my fine young fellow. You're one of the right sort, you are.

No stuck-up nonsense about you. That's why I fancy you. Bye-bye. My love to Mr Loman."

Stephen hurried back to Saint Dominic's as fast as his legs would carry him. He was not quite comfortable about his evening's proceedings, although he was not aware of having done anything wicked. Loman, a monitor, had given him leave to go down to Maltby, so that was hardly a crime; and as to the c.o.c.kchafer--well, he had only been in the private part of the house, and not the public bar, and surely there had been no harm in drinking ginger-beer and playing bagatelle, especially when he had distinctly refused to bet on the latter. But, explain it as he would, Stephen felt uncomfortable enough to determine him to say as little as possible about his expedition.

He found Loman impatiently awaiting him.

"Wherever have you been to all this time?" he demanded.

"The papers were all sold out," said Stephen. "I tried seven places."

Loman had eagerly caught up and opened the paper while Stephen nervously made this explanation, and he took no further heed of his f.a.g, who presently, seeing he was no longer wanted, and relieved to get out of reach of questions, prudently retired.

A glance sufficed to confirm the bad news about the Derby. Sir Patrick had won, and it was a fact therefore that Loman owed Cripps and his friend between them thirty pounds, without the least possibility of paying them.

One thing was certain. He must see Cripps on Sat.u.r.day, and trust to his luck (though that of late had not been very trustworthy) to pull him through, somehow.

Alas! what a spirit this, in which to meet difficulties! Loman had yet to learn that it is one thing to regret, and another thing to repent; that it is one thing to call one's self a fool, and another thing, quite, to cease to be one.

But, as he said to himself, he must go through with it now, and the first step took him deeper than ever into the mire.

For the coming Sat.u.r.day was the day of the great cricket match, Sixth versus School, from which a Dominican would as soon think of deserting as of emigrating.

But Loman must desert if he was to keep his appointment, and he managed the proceeding with his now characteristic untruthfulness; a practice he would have scorned only a few months ago. How easy the first wrong step! What a long weary road when one, with aching heart, attempts to retrace the way! And at present Loman had made no serious effort in that direction.

On the Friday morning, greatly to the astonishment of all his cla.s.s-fellows, he appeared in his place with his arm in a sling.

"Hullo, Loman!" said Wren, the first whom he encountered, "what's the row with you?"

"Sprained my wrist," said Loman, to whom, alas!--so easy is the downward path when once entered on--a lie had become an easy thing to utter.

"How did you manage that?" exclaimed Callonby. "Mind you get it right by to-morrow, or we _shall_ be in a fix."

This little piece of flattery pleased Loman, who said, "I'm afraid I shan't be able to play."

"What! Who's that won't be able to play?" said Raleigh, coming up in unwonted excitement.

"Loman; he's sprained his wrist."

"Have you shown it to Dr Splints?" said Raleigh.

"No," said Loman, beginning to feel uncomfortable. "It's hardly bad enough for that."

"Then it's hardly bad enough to prevent your playing," said Raleigh, drily.

Loman did not like this. He and Raleigh never got on well together, and it was evident the captain was more angry than sympathetic now.

"Whatever shall we do for bowlers?" said some one.

"I'm awfully sorry," said Loman, wishing he was anywhere but where he was; "but how am I to help?"

"Whatever induced you to sprain your wrist?" said Wren. "You might just as well have put it off till Monday."