The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 56

After a long pause, which seemed to drive Loman almost to despair, he said, "You'll wonder what I have come here for. I know we've not been friends. But--but, Greenfield, I'm in awful trouble."

"What is it?" again asked Oliver.

"Why, the fact is," said Loman, gaining courage, as he found neither Oliver nor Wraysford disposed to resent his visit--"the fact is, Greenfield, I'm in debt. I've been very foolish, you know, betting and all that. I say, Greenfield, _could_ you possibly--would you lend me-- eight pounds? I don't know why I ask you, but unless I can pay the money to-day, I shall--"

"What!" exclaimed Oliver, "eight pounds to pay your bets?"

"Oh, no, not all bets. I've been swindled too--by Cripps. You know Cripps."

And here Loman, utterly miserable, threw himself down on a chair and looked beseechingly at the two friends.

"I could pay you back in a month or so," he went on; "or at any rate before Easter. Do lend it me, please, Greenfield. I don't know where else to go and ask, and I shall get into such an awful row if I can't pay. Will you?"

Oliver looked at Wraysford; Wraysford looked at Oliver; and then both looked at Loman. The sight of the wretched boy there entreating money of the very fellow who had least reason in all Saint Dominic's to like him, was strange indeed.

"Wray," said Oliver, abruptly, after another pause, during which he had evidently made up his mind, "have you any money about you?"

"I've three pounds," said Wraysford, taking out his purse.

Oliver went to his desk and took from it a five-pound note which was there, his savings for the last year. This, with Wraysford's three sovereigns, he handed without a word to Loman. Then, not waiting to hear the thanks which the wretched boy tried to utter, he took Wraysford's arm and walked out of the study.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

THE "DOMINICAN" COMES ROUND.

The Fifth were a good while coming round on the question of Greenfield senior. But the delay was more on account of pride than because they still considered their old cla.s.s-fellow a knave. They had taken up such a grand position last term, and talked so magnificently about honour, and morality, and the credit of the school, that it was a sad come-down now to have to admit they had all been wrong, and still more that they had all been fools. And yet, after what had happened, they could no longer retain their suspicions of Oliver Greenfield.

A few of the better sort, like Pembury and Bullinger, had the courage, at whatever cost, to act up to their convictions, and declared at once that they had been wrong, and were ashamed of it.

The next step was to approach Oliver, and that was more difficult, for he was such a queer fellow there was no knowing where to have him.

However, Pembury's wit helped him over the difficulty as usual.

He was hobbling down the pa.s.sage one morning when he suddenly encountered Oliver and Wraysford, arm-in-arm, approaching him. If at any time in his life Pembury did feel uncomfortable and awkward he felt it now. If he let Oliver go by this time without making it up somehow, the chance might never come again; but how to set about it, that was the difficulty, and every half-second brought the two nearer. Twenty different ideas flashed through his mind. He was not the sort of fellow to go to any one and eat humble-pie straight off. That was far too tame a proceeding. No, there was only one way he could think of, and he would chance that.

"Noll, old man," said he, in the old familiar tones, "you've got a spare arm. May I take it?"

Oliver stopped short and looked at him for an instant in astonishment.

Next moment, with a hearty "Rather!" he slipped his arm into that of the happy Pembury, and the three went on their way rejoicing, a sight and a moral for all Saint Dominic's.

That was the whole of Anthony Pembury's making up. As for Bullinger, he wrote his man a letter, worded in beautiful English, in the most elegant handwriting and punctuated to a nicety, setting forth his contrition, and his hope that Greenfield would henceforth reckon him among his friends--"Yours very sincerely, H. Bullinger." This literary effort he carefully dispatched by a Guinea-pig to its destination, and awaited a reply with the utmost impatience. The reply was laconic, but highly satisfactory. It was a verbal one, given by Oliver himself in cla.s.s that afternoon, who volunteered the information to the delighted Bullinger that it was a "jolly day."

It was indeed a jolly day to that contrite youth. He never believed it would all be got over so easily. He had dreaded all sorts of scenes and lectures and humiliations, but here he was, by a single word, pa.s.sed back straight into friendship, and no questions asked.

The sight of Oliver surrounded by these three friends, of whom it would have been hard to say which was the happiest, made a deep impression on the rest of the Fifth, and certainly did not tend to make them feel more comfortable as to what they ought to do in a similar direction.

"It's all very well," said Ricketts, when the question was being canva.s.sed for the hundredth time among his immediate friends. "I dare say they are all right, but it makes it jolly uncomfortable for us."

"They oughtn't to have given in in this way without letting the rest of us know first," said Braddy. "Just see what a corner it puts us in."

"All I can say is," said Tom Senior, "I'll be better satisfied when I know who _did_ collar that paper if Greenfield didn't."

"Oh, but," said Simon, seeing a chance, "I can a.s.sure you I saw him when he took it. I was going--"

"Shut up, you great b.o.o.by!" cried Ricketts; "who asked _you_ anything about it?"

Simon modestly retired hereupon, and Braddy took up the talk.

"Yes, who did take the paper? that's it. Greenfield must have done it.

Why, he as good as admitted it last term."

"Well, then, it's very queer those fellows making up to him," said Ricketts. "It's no use our trying to send the fellow to Coventry when the others don't back us up."

"Wraysford always was daft about Greenfield," said Tom Senior, "but I am astonished at Pembury and Bullinger."

"All I can say is," said Braddy, "Greenfield will have to ask me before I have anything to do with him."

"And do you know," said Ricketts, "I heard to-day he is down to play in the match against the County."

"Is he?" exclaimed Braddy in excitement; "very well, then. _I_ shall not play if he does. That's all about that."

Ricketts laughed.

"Awfully sorry, old man, but you're not in the fifteen this time."

Braddy's face was a picture at this moment--he turned red and blue and white in his astonishment.

"What!" he exclaimed, as soon as he could find words. "I'm not in the team!"

"You'll see the list on the notice board; you'd better go and look."

Off went the wretched Braddy to be convinced of his fate.

"You're in the team, Ricketts, I see," said Tom Senior. "Shall _you_ play if Greenfield does?"

"Don't know," said Ricketts. "A fellow doesn't get a chance to play against the County every day. It's precious awkward."

"So it is; that's just where we began, too," said Tom, philosophically.

And, as a matter of fact, whenever these young gentlemen of the Fifth started the subject of Greenfield senior among themselves, they always found themselves in the end at the identical place from which they had set out.

Nor were they the only boys at Saint Dominic's in this dilemma. The Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles were equally taken aback by the new aspect of affairs. These young gentlemen had looked upon Oliver's "row" with his cla.s.s as a peculiar mercy designed specially for their benefit. They had hardly known such a happy time as that during which the row had lasted. Did they want a pretext for a battle? Greenfield senior was a glorious bone of contention. Did they want an object for an indignation meeting? What better object could they have than Greenfield senior?

Did they want an excuse generally for laziness, disobedience, and tumult? Greenfield senior served for this too. Indeed, the name of the Fifth Form Martyr had pa.s.sed into a household word among the lower school, either of glory or reproach, and round it the small fry rallied, as round an old flag of battle.

But now, both friend and foe were aghast. To the Guinea-pigs half the charm of their position had been that they were Greenfield senior's sole champions in all Saint Dominic's. While every one else avoided him, they stuck to him, week-days and Sundays. Now, however, they discovered, with something like consternation, that they no longer had the field to themselves.

The sight of Greenfield senior walking down the pa.s.sage one day, arm-in-arm with Wraysford, and the next day with one arm in Wraysford's and the other in Pembury's, and the day after between Pembury and Bullinger, with Wraysford and Stephen in the rear, struck bewilderment and bitter jealousy to their hearts.