The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 27

"Hum! That will do this time. You had better get to bed."

"Oh, sir!" exclaimed Stephen, moved far more by Mr Rastle's kind tone than by his letting him off thirty lines of the Caesar, "I'm so sorry I was rude to you."

"Well, I was sorry, too; so we'll say no more about that. Why, what a crack you must have got on your cheek!"

"Yes, sir; that was the ruler did that."

"The ruler! Then it wasn't a fair fight? Now don't begin telling me all about it. I dare say you were very heroic, and stood up against terrible odds. But you've a very black eye and a very sore cheek now, so you had better get to bed as fast as you can."

And certainly the pale, bruised, upturned face of the boy did not look very bright at that moment.

Stephen Greenfield went off to bed that night in a perturbed state of mind and body. He had stuck loyally to his promise not to f.a.g, and he had earned the universal admiration of his comrades. But, on the other hand, he had been awfully knocked about, and, almost as bad, he had been effectively snubbed by Mr Rastle. He did not exactly know what to think of it all. Had he done a fine deed or a foolish one? and what ought he to do to-morrow?

Like a sensible little man, he went sound asleep over these questions, and forgot all about them till the morrow.

When he woke Stephen was like a giant refreshed. His eye was certainly a rather more brilliant yellow than the day before, and his cheek still wore a dull red flush. But somehow he felt none of the misgivings and dumps that had oppressed him the night before. He was full of hope again and full of courage. The Guinea-pigs should never charge _him_ with treachery and desertion, and what he had gone through already in the "good cause" he would go through again.

With this determination he dressed and went down to school. Loman, whose summons he expected every moment to hear, did not put him to the necessity of a renewed struggle. From all quarters, too, encouraging reports came in from the various insurgents. Paul announced that Greenfield senior took it "like a lamb"; Bramble recounted how his "n.i.g.g.e.r-driver," as he was pleased to call Wren, had chased him twice round the playground and over the top of the cricket-shed without being able to capture him; and most of the others had exploits equally heroic to boast of. Things were looking up in the Fourth Junior.

They spent a merry morning, these young rebels, wondering in whispers over their lessons what this and that Sixth or Fifth Form fellow had done without them. With great glee they imagined Raleigh blacking his own boots and Pembury boiling his own eggs, and the very idea of such wonders quite frightened them. At that rate Saint Dominic's would come to a standstill altogether.

"Serve 'em right!" said Bramble; "they want a lesson. I wish I'd two fellows to strike against instead of one!"

"One's enough if he strikes you back," said Stephen, with a rueful grin.

Master Bramble evinced his sympathy by laughing aloud. "I say, you look just like a clown; doesn't he, Padger, with his eye all sorts of colours and his cheek like a house on fire?"

"All very well," said Stephen; "I wish you'd got my cheek."

"Bramby's got cheek enough of his own, I guess," put in Paul; whereat Master Bramble fired up, and a quarrel became imminent.

However, Stephen prevented it by calling back attention to his own picturesque countenance. "I don't mind the eye, that don't hurt; but I can tell you, you fellows, my cheek's awful!"

"I always said you'd got an awful cheek of your own, young Greenfield,"

said Bramble, laughing, as if _he_ was the inventor of the joke.

Stephen glowered at him.

"Well, you said so yourself," put in Bramble, a little mildly, for since Stephen's exploit yesterday that young hero had advanced a good deal in the respect of his fellows. "But, I say, why don't you stick some lotion or something on it? It'll never get right if you don't, will it, Padger?"

Padger suggested that young Greenfield might possibly have to have his cheek cut off if he didn't look-out, and Paul said the sooner he "stashed his cheek" the better.

The result of this friendly and witty conference was that Stephen took it into his head to cure his cheek, and to that end applied for leave from Mr Rastle to go down that afternoon to Maltby to get something from the chemist.

Mr Rastle gave him leave, and told him the best sort of lotion to ask for, and so, as soon as afternoon school was over, our young champion sallied boldly forth on his errand. He felt very self-satisfied and forgiving to all the world as he walked along. There was no doubt about it, he was a hero. Every one seemed to take an interest in his black eye and sore cheek, from Mr Rastle downwards. Very likely that fight of his with Loman yesterday would be recorded as long as Saint Dominic's remained, as the event which saved the lower school from the tyranny of the upper!

His way to the chemist's lay past the turning up to the c.o.c.kchafer, and the idea occurred to him to turn in on the way back and talk over the event of the hour with Mr Cripps, whom he had not seen since the bagatelle-lesson a week ago. He was sure that good gentleman would sympathise with him, and most likely praise him; and in any case it would be only civil, after promising to come and see him sometimes, to look in.

The only thing was that the c.o.c.kchafer, whatever one might say about it, was a public-house. The private door at the side hardly sufficed to satisfy Stephen that he was not breaking rules by going in. He would not have entered by the public door for worlds, and the thought did occur to him, Was there very much difference after all between one door and the other? However, he had not answered the question before he found himself inside, shaking hands with Mr Cripps.

That gentleman was of course delighted, and profuse in his grat.i.tude to the "young swell" for looking him up. He listened with profound interest and sympathy to his story, and made some very fierce remarks about what he would do to "that there" Loman if he got hold of him.

Then the subject of bagatelle happened to come up, and presently Stephen was again delighting and astonishing the good gentleman by his skill in that game. Then in due time it came out that the boy's mother had bought him a bicycle, and he was going to learn in the holidays, a resolution Mr Cripps highly approved of, and was certain a clever young fellow like him would learn in no time, which greatly pleased Stephen.

Before parting, Mr Cripps insisted on lending his young friend a lantern for his bicycle, when he rode it in the dark. It was a specially good one, he said, and the young gentleman could easily return it to him after the holidays, and so on.

Altogether it was a delightful visit, and Stephen wondered more than ever how some of the fellows could think ill of Mr Cripps.

"Oh, I say," said the boy, at parting; "don't do what you said you would to Loman. I'm not afraid of him, you know."

"I'd like to knock his ugly head off for him!" cried Mr Cripps, indignantly.

"No, don't; please don't! I'd rather not. I dare say he's sorry for it."

"I'll see he is!" growled Mr Cripps.

"Besides, I've forgiven him," said Stephen, "and oughtn't to have told tales of him; so mind you don't do it, Mr Cripps, will you?"

"I'll see," said Mr Cripps. "Good-bye for the present, young gentleman, and come again soon."

And so, at peace with all the world, and particularly with himself, Stephen strolled back to Saint Dominic's, whistling merrily.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE DOCTOR AMONG THE GUINEA-PIGS.

The _Dominican_ appeared once more before the holidays, and, as might have been expected (besides its usual articles at the expense of the Sixth Form), made itself particularly merry over the rebellion of the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles.

Pembury was not the fellow to give quarter in his own particular line of attack; and it must be confessed he had the proud satisfaction of making his unfortunate young victims smart.

The "leading article" of the present number bore the suggestive t.i.tle, "Thank Goodness!" and began as follows:

"Thank goodness, we are at last rid of the pest which has made Saint Dominic's hideous for months past! At a single blow, with a single clap of the hands, we have sent Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles packing, and can now breathe pure air. No longer shall we have to put up with the plague.

We are to be spared the disgust of seeing them, much more of talking to them or hearing their hideous voices. No longer will our morning milk be burned; no longer will our herrings be grilled to cinders; no longer will our jam be purloined; no longer will our books and door-handles be made abominable by contact with their filthy hands! Thank goodness!

The Doctor never did a more patriotic deed than this! The small animals are in future to be kept to their own quarters, and will be forbidden the liberty they have so long abused of mixing with their betters. It is as well for all parties; and if any event could have brightened the last days of this term, it is this--" and so on.

Before this manifesto, a swarm of youngsters puzzled on the day of publication with no little bewilderment and fury. They had refused to allow any of their number to act as policeman, and had secretly been making merry over the embarra.s.sment of their late persecutors, and wondering whatever they would be able to say for their humiliated selves in the _Dominican_--and lo! here was an article which, if it meant anything, meant that the heroic rebellion of the juniors was regarded not with dismay, but with positive triumph, by the very fellows it had been intended to "squash!"

"What does it mean, Padger?" asked Bramble, who, never much of a scholar, was quite unable to master the meaning of this.

"It's all a pack of crams," replied Padger, not quite sure of the sense himself.

"It means," said Stephen, "the fellows say they are jolly glad to get rid of us."

"Eh?" yelled Bramble; "oh, I say, you fellows, come to the meeting!

Jolly glad! They aren't a bit glad."

"They say so," said Paul. "Hold hard, Bramble, let's read the rest."