The Loom of Youth Part 23

"Oh, well, never mind," said Mansell; "he is a good chap, really, only he can't keep his temper. He'll probably apologise to you both before the end of the day. I remember Ferguson said once: 'All men are fools and half of them are b.l.o.o.d.y fools.' Not so bad for Ferguson that! Cheer up!"

"Yes; but, d.a.m.n it all, it is a bit thick," said Lovelace. "And a tick like Burgoyne to boot."

As they were changing, a f.a.g from Buller's made a nervous entry; he looked very lost, but finally summoned up enough courage to ask Davenport if he knew where Caruthers was.

"Yonder, sirrah, lurking behind the piano."

The f.a.g came up.

"Oh--I say--er--Caruthers. 'The Bull'--er, I mean Mr Buller wants to see you as soon as you are changed."

"Right," said Gordon.

"I said so," said Mansell; "he will weep over you and shake your hand like a long-lost brother; and after you will follow Lovelace, who will once more lead the lads with white jerseys and red dragons to victory against Osborne. Good-bye; you needn't stop, you know," he informed the f.a.g, who was giving a stork-like performance, by gyrating first on one foot then on another.

"That means I shall miss my tea," said Gordon.

"I fear so," answered Mansell. "I don't really think you can expect 'the Bull' to receive you with crumpets and m.u.f.fins and other goodly delights. Of course to-morrow is Sunday; you might manage to work a supper-party, but don't rely on it. Come and tell me the result of your chat; you will find me in my study; don't knock; just walk in; you are always welcome."

As Gordon walked across the courts to Buller's study he had not the slightest doubt as to how the interview would end. "The Bull" was often like this. Only yesterday Foster had told him some long yarn of how he had beaten a lad in Christy's and had hit his hand by mistake; and to kick a person was, after all, a far more undignified method of a.s.sault.

It was almost actionable. Quite contentedly he knocked on the door and went in. He was not, however, welcomed with open arms. "The Bull" stood with his back to the door, facing the fireplace, his hands behind his back. He did not speak for a minute or so. Gordon wondered if it would be correct to take a chair. "The Bull" broke the silence.

"Well, Caruthers, are you sorry for what happened this afternoon?"

This took Gordon by surprise: it was hardly the interview he had been led to expect. He murmured "Yes, sir" rather indistinctly.

"Are you, though? Because if you are going to come in here and say you are sorry, when you are not, simply to smooth things over, you would be a pretty rotten sort of fellow."

"Yes, sir." Gordon had recovered his self-control and was ready for a fight.

"Well, this is the way I look at things. I am here to coach Fernhurst sides; it is my life's work. I love Fernhurst, and I have devoted all my energy and care to help my old school, and it seems to me that you are trying--you and Lovelace between you--to ruin my work and stand in my light. Both of you as individuals are well worth your places in both under-sixteen sides, football and cricket. As individuals, I say; and you think you are indispensable to the side, and that we can't do without you. You can afford to laugh when you miss catches, and not pay attention to me when I am trying to give you the benefits of my experience."

"I heard every word----"

"Will you kindly wait till I have finished. Fernhurst has done very well in the past without you and Lovelace, and five years hence it will have to do without you, and I am not going to have you interfere with the present. You hate me, I dare say; from all I hear of you, you hate my house; and you stir up sedition against me. You show the others how much you care for me. And you are both people who have some influence in your house, and wherever you are, for that matter. And are you using it for the good of Fernhurst? You ruined all my pleasure in the cricket Colts; but I don't care about myself. All I care for is Fernhurst. Why did I stop Lovelace being captain? Because I want a man who is going to back me up, who is going to play for the side and not for himself. And I tell you I am going to drop Lovelace; he plays for himself; he gives rotten pa.s.ses; he upsets combination; and I won't have him on my side."

Gordon could stand it no longer.

"Sir, I am not going to hold a brief for myself. But you have not treated Lovelace fairly. Last year on a trial game you kicked him out of the side, only to find in a week that you could not do without him. And to-day, sir, on a trial game you deposed him from the captaincy."

"Do you mean to say that after playing Rugby football for twenty-five years I don't know what I am talking about?"

Gordon saw he had said too much.

"And I am not talking about his play, I am talking about his general att.i.tude. Now, didn't you two rag about a good deal at the nets last term?"

"Well, sir, it was hardly ragging, sir----"

"Oh, hardly ragging.... There must be no ragging.... If we are going to turn out good sides we must be in dead earnest the whole time. You imagine you are loyal to Fernhurst. My old sides followed me implicitly.

I loved them, and they loved me. We worked together for Fernhurst; now, are you doing your best for Fernhurst?"

Gordon was overwhelmed. He wanted to tell "the Bull" how mistaken he was; that he and Lovelace did not hate him at all; that they were doing their best; but that their sense of humour was at times too strong. But it was useless. "The Bull" would not give him a chance. And he had learnt from Mansell and Tester that "the Bull" could only see one point of view at a time. And yet he was filled with an immense admiration for this man who thought only of Fernhurst, who had worked for Fernhurst all his life, who made Fernhurst's interests the standard for every judgment and action. There was something essentially n.o.ble in so unswerving a devotion. If only his love of Fernhurst had not made him so complete an egoist.

"Well, what is it to be, Caruthers?" Buller went on. "Are you going to work with me or against me? When you first came you were keen and willing. You are still keen, but you think too much of yourself now; you imagine you know more than I do. Is all this going to stop? Are we going to work together?"

There was nothing to be gained by arguing.

"Sir, I shall do my best to."

"Well, I hope so, Caruthers. It is not for my own sake I mind; you see that, don't you? It is Fernhurst that matters. We must all do our best for Fernhurst. I hope we sha'n't have any more trouble, you will be a power in the school some day, we must work together--for Fernhurst."

"Yes, sir."

Gordon walked to the door; as he put his hand on the k.n.o.b he paused for a second, then turned round.

"Good-night, sir."

"Good-night, Caruthers."

He was out in the street again. There was a tremendous noise going on in one of the Buller's studies. From the courts came sounds of barge football. He did not feel as if he wanted to go and discuss everything with Mansell for a minute or so. Slowly he wandered round the shrubbery, past the big school, past the new buildings into the Abbey courtyard. He sat down on a seat and tried to think. A girl came and sat beside him and smiled at him invitingly. He took no notice. She sat there a minute or so, then got up and walked off stiffly. The Abbey clock boomed out the quarter to six. In a minute or so he would have to go back to tea.

He was worried. He liked "the Bull," admired him intensely; and yet "the Bull" thought he hated him, thought him disloyal. Why could not Buller keep his temper? Why must he rush to conclusions without weighing the evidence? And "the Bull" was such a splendid man; he was one of the very few masters Gordon respected in the least. He wanted "the Bull" to like him. And then there was Lovelace. Why couldn't "the Bull" try to see life as Lovelace saw it? Why must he want everyone to share the same views as he, look at everything through the same spectacles? It wouldn't have mattered if he was merely an insignificant busybody like Christy.

He was such a splendid fellow, such a man. It was all such a pity. And yet he realised that he would have to try and bend his will to that of Buller; he must endeavour to work side by side with him. It would not do to have Fernhurst split up into two camps. In the past he had thought he was doing his best; but "the Bull" wanted absolute subservience. And what "the Bull" wanted he usually got.

Lovelace, however, took quite a different view. He was mad with Buller.

"d.a.m.n it all, it is not the first time the swine has done the dirty on me. Look at the way he kicked me out of the side last year."

"I know, that's what I told him. And he owned that both of us as individuals were worth our places, but that we upset the side and rotted about, and were always up against him."

"Silly a.s.s the man must be. We are keen enough, aren't we? But I d.a.m.ned well don't see why we should treat footer and cricket like a chapel service. We can laugh in form if anything funny happens; then why the h.e.l.l shouldn't we laugh on the field? And, my G.o.d, Caruthers, you did look an a.s.s when you missed that catch." Lovelace roared with laughter at the thought of it. "The way you juggled with it, and old Bull tearing his hair, oh, it was d.a.m.ned funny."

"But, you see, 'the Bull' thinks games are everything, and, d.a.m.n it all, they are the things that really matter. We each may have our own private interests. But games are the thing. Only personally I don't see why we should not see the funny side of them. To 'the Bull' a dropped catch is an everlasting disgrace."

"Oh, let 'the Bull' go to blazes, I am sick of him. If he wants to kid me out of the Colts, he can; and I'll go and enjoy myself on House games. But look here, there is a Stoics debate to-night and it's nearly roll-time. You had better go down and bag two seats."

The Stoics society was of elastic proportions, including everyone above IV. A, for a life subscription of sixpence, and during the winter term it held meetings every other week in the School House reading-room. The actual membership was over a hundred, but rarely more than fifty attended, and of those who went only fifty per cent. paid any attention to the proceedings. The rest looked on it as a good excuse for getting off work. Three quarters of the society were from the School House, and these arrived with deck chairs, cushions and a novel, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Christy was the president, and this was to a great extent the reason for so general an atmosphere of boredom and indifference. For Christy was the typical product of conventionality and pharisaism. He was so thoroughly contented with anything he superintended that he refused to believe any improvement was possible.

But this year Betteridge was honorary secretary and had tried to infuse a little life into the society. The subject for the first debate of the term was "Cla.s.sical and Modern Education," and Ferrers was going to speak for the modern side. Ferrers was always writing to the papers, and was already well known in the common room as a feverish orator. A good deal had been rumoured about him, and the school were rather anxious to hear him. There was quite a large audience. At about twenty past seven Christy came in, and everyone stood up till he had sat down. Burgess was to open the debate for the cla.s.sics, and Christy was to second him.

Ferrers and Pothering, the head of Claremont's, were for the moderns.

The debate was supposed to open at twenty past the hour. But Ferrers had not arrived. There was an awkward pause. At last Christy got up.

"I really think it is useless to wait any longer for Mr Ferrers. We will proceed. The motion before the House is: That in the opinion of this House a cla.s.sical education is more efficacious than a modern one. I will call on Mr Burgess to open the motion."

There was a little clapping as Burgess got up with a customary display of conceit. He ran his hand through his hair and took a glance at his notes, and then began with the blase air of Mercury addressing a Salvation Army meeting.

"Of course those in favour of modern education will defend themselves on the grounds of general utility. They will point out the uselessness of Greek in business; all I can say to that is that the Public School man should be too much of a gentleman to wish to succeed in business. He should aim higher; he should follow the ideals set before him by the cla.s.sics. Nearly all the poets and politicians of to-day are Public School men; nearly all ..."

He went on rolling off absurdly dogmatic statements that were based solely on ignorance and arrogance. He was of the Rogers' school of oratory. He believed that a sufficient amount of conceit and self-possession would carry anyone through. About half-way through his speech he was interrupted by the approach of a whirlwind. There was a sound of feet on the stone pa.s.sage, something crashed against the door, and in rolled Ferrers in a most untidy blue suit, a soft collar, an immense woollen waistcoat, and three books under his arm. These he slammed on the table, in company with his cap.